Who doesn't love a good afternoon nap? Well, imagine being able to take afternoon naps--or morning naps if that's your thing--AT WORK anytime you'd like. Yep, that's right. There is a women's lounge here at school, complete with a raised heated floor and pillows and blankets to utilize at one's leisure.
It took me about three months to venture into this room during school and wow, I can't believe I let it go that long. My first nap was AMAZING. I know I have mentioned my love for heated floors before, but OH MY GOD we need to bring them to the States. They seriously make life so much better when it's even moderately cold outside--especially when you've been sick and are tired from the six classes you've taught that day...
So, today my afternoon class is canceled, which means I don't have to teach for the rest of the day (it's now lunch time--and yes, I just returned from the feeding frenzy in the cafeteria jungle). Hmmm, shall I take a nap today? Sounds like a brilliant idea to me!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Welcome to the Jungle
There is one thing that stands out in my memory from my first day of school here. I wasn't teaching, but instead being dragged around to meet this person and say hello to that person. It was all pretty much a blur to me given my exhaustion from traveling and the time difference, but the one thing that momentarily snapped me out of my sleepwalking state of existence was the moment that the lunch bell rang. I happened to be following my coteacher out of the teacher's office at the exact moment the bell rang, and was suddenly overcome with sensory overload as hundreds of teenage boys ran through the halls and tumbled down the stairwells (my school is four stories tall) toward the cafeteria. I was in hysterics on the inside, full of amusement at the sight and sounds around me.
Nothing has changed, even four months later. I am still amused by the lunchtime rituals here at Jinju Jeil Middle School. Allow me to share my take on what is the hour of organized chaos at feeding time:
The bell rings at 12:40 most days. As I close class, I start to hear a low rumble. My class and I say our brief goodbye (which consists of the class leader saying in Korean something along the lines of "Attention. Bow." and having the entire class bow to me and my coteacher). The volume is suddenly excruciatingly loud in class and in the hallways and the rumble becomes as loud as the herd of elk I once ran into unexpectedly in the forest as they ran away from my dad, brother and I. Students are running, shouting, and simultaneously hitting and kicking one another as they make their way to the cafeteria.
On Tuesdays it's even worse, as I teach a first grade (7th grade) class--the youngsters in the school. You see, it's not like back home. Here, students line up by grade outside the cafeteria and wait until it's their turn (namely, when there's enough room for more students in the cafeteria because there are definitely not 1091 seats at the tables). So, getting to the front of the line the fastest means you eat first. Right now, first graders eat first. On Tuesdays, when I walk out into the hall after the bell rings, I must wade my way through a few hundred chest-high, black-haired, screaming and running first-graders as they all run in one direction down the hallway. I usually wait at the door of the classroom until the bulk of students go by, especially after I once saw a kid trip, fall and get trampled by fellow classmates--and because I need to walk against the flow of traffic to get back to the teacher's office. Somebody's gonna get hurt one of these days...
Once I get to the cafeteria, I am allowed to cut in line in front of the students. I grab my metal chopsticks and my metal spoon (for the soup) and my metal tray with six different compartments of varying size. I walk up to the counter and the kitchen ladies plop down the day's food in the corresponding compartment (soup, rice and side dishes all have their own special place, as we always have some type of soup, rice and a few side dishes every day). Then, I stop at a little table and throw on some kimchi or other optional side dishes for good measure.
School lunches in Korea are surprisingly good, at least relative to school lunches back home (unless they've changed). Rice varies from plain white rice, to a mixed variety of rice, to rice with varying types of beans in it. Soups may be anything from a clear salty broth with bean sprouts, to a curry with vegetables, to a darker spicy base with vegetables and meat or fish, to a seafood soup full of types of seafood I've never dreamt of. One time my soup compartment had in it a few crab legs, a large shrinp, a muscle and a few other types of seafood I couldn't name. Pretty fancy, I know. Like they would EVER serve CRAB legs in an American middle school!!! Other foods usually include some type of vegetable dish (often kimchi or picked vegetables, but sometimes we get a salad of sorts, or fresh cut-up peppers), a meat dish (more pork than any other meat, with the exception of fish, which come complete with bones and skin). And then, there is some other random food. It could be dumplings, strawberries, a yogurt, a little chewy gooey rice cake, anything. Sometimes it's really quite boring, or just extra kimchi veggies. Nevertheless, I enjoy the majority of lunches here and usually clear the majority of my plate (although I tend to stay away from the mysterious seafood in my soups or the really fatty pieces of meat).
There are no drinks served with meals. Koreans, in general, don't have a drink with their meals in the same way I would back home--unless it's alcohol (namely, soju or beer). Water is served in restaurants, but it's not consumed in the same way as back home.
So, I sit and eat my lunch. I usually sit with my coteacher and her friend, a younger teacher who teaches Korean and speaks English relatively well. But I more often than not just focus on my food and don't do much talking. You know me. The teachers all sit at one end of the second to last table. I'm not sure why this is the special table, but it is. The noise level in the cafeteria is extreme, as hundreds of boys are chowing down on their food, a few more hundred are lined up along the perimeter inside the cafeteria, and a few hundred more are waiting in line outside. Just imagine the chaos. It's a constant flow of movement and excitement--and noise. Teachers shovel their food into their mouths so they can get out as quickly as they came in, I think.
When I finish eating, I fight my way through tables and teenage boys to the corner of the cafeteria and dump my spoon in one large tub, my chopsticks in another, and all my uneaten food in a large metal bin. Then, if I so choose, I can take a small metal cup and get myself a drink of water. The last stop is the napkin stop. If I feel as though I have red kimchi chili paste or broth from slurping the bean sprouts out of my soup all over my face I can grab a tissue and wipe my face. Sometimes I have to wipe my nose, as food is ALWAYS spicy here.
And that's my lunch everyday I'm at school. Same thing, day in and day out. Quite a sight to see, but it keeps me amused and satiated so I can't complain...
Nothing has changed, even four months later. I am still amused by the lunchtime rituals here at Jinju Jeil Middle School. Allow me to share my take on what is the hour of organized chaos at feeding time:
The bell rings at 12:40 most days. As I close class, I start to hear a low rumble. My class and I say our brief goodbye (which consists of the class leader saying in Korean something along the lines of "Attention. Bow." and having the entire class bow to me and my coteacher). The volume is suddenly excruciatingly loud in class and in the hallways and the rumble becomes as loud as the herd of elk I once ran into unexpectedly in the forest as they ran away from my dad, brother and I. Students are running, shouting, and simultaneously hitting and kicking one another as they make their way to the cafeteria.
On Tuesdays it's even worse, as I teach a first grade (7th grade) class--the youngsters in the school. You see, it's not like back home. Here, students line up by grade outside the cafeteria and wait until it's their turn (namely, when there's enough room for more students in the cafeteria because there are definitely not 1091 seats at the tables). So, getting to the front of the line the fastest means you eat first. Right now, first graders eat first. On Tuesdays, when I walk out into the hall after the bell rings, I must wade my way through a few hundred chest-high, black-haired, screaming and running first-graders as they all run in one direction down the hallway. I usually wait at the door of the classroom until the bulk of students go by, especially after I once saw a kid trip, fall and get trampled by fellow classmates--and because I need to walk against the flow of traffic to get back to the teacher's office. Somebody's gonna get hurt one of these days...
Once I get to the cafeteria, I am allowed to cut in line in front of the students. I grab my metal chopsticks and my metal spoon (for the soup) and my metal tray with six different compartments of varying size. I walk up to the counter and the kitchen ladies plop down the day's food in the corresponding compartment (soup, rice and side dishes all have their own special place, as we always have some type of soup, rice and a few side dishes every day). Then, I stop at a little table and throw on some kimchi or other optional side dishes for good measure.
School lunches in Korea are surprisingly good, at least relative to school lunches back home (unless they've changed). Rice varies from plain white rice, to a mixed variety of rice, to rice with varying types of beans in it. Soups may be anything from a clear salty broth with bean sprouts, to a curry with vegetables, to a darker spicy base with vegetables and meat or fish, to a seafood soup full of types of seafood I've never dreamt of. One time my soup compartment had in it a few crab legs, a large shrinp, a muscle and a few other types of seafood I couldn't name. Pretty fancy, I know. Like they would EVER serve CRAB legs in an American middle school!!! Other foods usually include some type of vegetable dish (often kimchi or picked vegetables, but sometimes we get a salad of sorts, or fresh cut-up peppers), a meat dish (more pork than any other meat, with the exception of fish, which come complete with bones and skin). And then, there is some other random food. It could be dumplings, strawberries, a yogurt, a little chewy gooey rice cake, anything. Sometimes it's really quite boring, or just extra kimchi veggies. Nevertheless, I enjoy the majority of lunches here and usually clear the majority of my plate (although I tend to stay away from the mysterious seafood in my soups or the really fatty pieces of meat).
There are no drinks served with meals. Koreans, in general, don't have a drink with their meals in the same way I would back home--unless it's alcohol (namely, soju or beer). Water is served in restaurants, but it's not consumed in the same way as back home.
So, I sit and eat my lunch. I usually sit with my coteacher and her friend, a younger teacher who teaches Korean and speaks English relatively well. But I more often than not just focus on my food and don't do much talking. You know me. The teachers all sit at one end of the second to last table. I'm not sure why this is the special table, but it is. The noise level in the cafeteria is extreme, as hundreds of boys are chowing down on their food, a few more hundred are lined up along the perimeter inside the cafeteria, and a few hundred more are waiting in line outside. Just imagine the chaos. It's a constant flow of movement and excitement--and noise. Teachers shovel their food into their mouths so they can get out as quickly as they came in, I think.
When I finish eating, I fight my way through tables and teenage boys to the corner of the cafeteria and dump my spoon in one large tub, my chopsticks in another, and all my uneaten food in a large metal bin. Then, if I so choose, I can take a small metal cup and get myself a drink of water. The last stop is the napkin stop. If I feel as though I have red kimchi chili paste or broth from slurping the bean sprouts out of my soup all over my face I can grab a tissue and wipe my face. Sometimes I have to wipe my nose, as food is ALWAYS spicy here.
And that's my lunch everyday I'm at school. Same thing, day in and day out. Quite a sight to see, but it keeps me amused and satiated so I can't complain...
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
한 국 사 랑 해 요!
I can't even begin to explain just how much I am loving my life here in Korea. The teaching part brings some unwanted stress to my life, but only because I allow it and haven't yet figured out how to take the perfectionist out of the girl and harness my terrible procrastination habits.
I've neglected many an opportunity to take a moment to write about my experiences here--large and small--but I assure you, Korea thus far has been good to me. So many moments have passed where I can't help but think to myself (and often times say out loud) "I love my life." It's the small things in life that make it so wonderful though, isn't it? My life in Korea is full of those small things...
Spring has finally arrived after a long, cold winter, which means I am starting to see color, feel warmth, and most significantly of all, see the cherry blossoms in full bloom. As we Oregonians know quite well, few moments are better in life than when the winter (or in our case, rainy) season changes to blue skies and sun, eliciting a heightened sense of happiness and energy.
Ahhh, spring.
My friends and I took advantage of the changing seasons and went for a nice long bike ride along the river a few nights ago (just like back home!). Four foreigners on bikes is quite a site to see in Jinju, so we got plenty of friendly stares and hellos from a number of people, young and old. Near the end of the ride, we happened to pass by a huge fountain along the river just at the right time to catch a colorful display of the evening water show (which was new to all of us) with everything from k-pop to traditional Korean music timed perfectly with the movement of the water. It felt like we could have been in Vegas and we seriuosly stood at the base of the fountain with our necks bent, gawking up at the water show for longer than I'd prefer to admit. It was pretty amazing. Sometimes Koreans really know how to do it... And then naturally, we ended our evening with a bowl of my favorite soup, mandu guk (dumpling soup).
Life is good.
Yesterday one of my favorite students (whom I had in my winter English camp and in my extra conversation classes that I do right now) brought my a chocolate chip cookie. Earlier in the day he gave me a stick of gum.
Today I received an impromptu Buddhist breathing meditation lesson from a fellow English teacher, followed be a long discussion about such things as past lives, hypnosis and the like. He promised to give me a tai chi lesson tomorrow...
Did I mention all 1091 of the boys (well, almost all of them) are on a three-day field trip? Each grade is going somewhere different, but I still couldn't imagine accompanying 340-380 middle school boys for three days and two nights. Me and about ten other teachers are left here at the school, passing the time by eating breakfast and lunch together and doing a lot of sitting around talking. Well, naturally I'm doing more listening than talking... I even watched a movie with the 'leftover' kids today.
한 국 사 랑 해 요!!!
(I love Korea!)
I've neglected many an opportunity to take a moment to write about my experiences here--large and small--but I assure you, Korea thus far has been good to me. So many moments have passed where I can't help but think to myself (and often times say out loud) "I love my life." It's the small things in life that make it so wonderful though, isn't it? My life in Korea is full of those small things...
Spring has finally arrived after a long, cold winter, which means I am starting to see color, feel warmth, and most significantly of all, see the cherry blossoms in full bloom. As we Oregonians know quite well, few moments are better in life than when the winter (or in our case, rainy) season changes to blue skies and sun, eliciting a heightened sense of happiness and energy.
Ahhh, spring.
My friends and I took advantage of the changing seasons and went for a nice long bike ride along the river a few nights ago (just like back home!). Four foreigners on bikes is quite a site to see in Jinju, so we got plenty of friendly stares and hellos from a number of people, young and old. Near the end of the ride, we happened to pass by a huge fountain along the river just at the right time to catch a colorful display of the evening water show (which was new to all of us) with everything from k-pop to traditional Korean music timed perfectly with the movement of the water. It felt like we could have been in Vegas and we seriuosly stood at the base of the fountain with our necks bent, gawking up at the water show for longer than I'd prefer to admit. It was pretty amazing. Sometimes Koreans really know how to do it... And then naturally, we ended our evening with a bowl of my favorite soup, mandu guk (dumpling soup).
Life is good.
Yesterday one of my favorite students (whom I had in my winter English camp and in my extra conversation classes that I do right now) brought my a chocolate chip cookie. Earlier in the day he gave me a stick of gum.
Today I received an impromptu Buddhist breathing meditation lesson from a fellow English teacher, followed be a long discussion about such things as past lives, hypnosis and the like. He promised to give me a tai chi lesson tomorrow...
Did I mention all 1091 of the boys (well, almost all of them) are on a three-day field trip? Each grade is going somewhere different, but I still couldn't imagine accompanying 340-380 middle school boys for three days and two nights. Me and about ten other teachers are left here at the school, passing the time by eating breakfast and lunch together and doing a lot of sitting around talking. Well, naturally I'm doing more listening than talking... I even watched a movie with the 'leftover' kids today.
한 국 사 랑 해 요!!!
(I love Korea!)
Saturday, February 27, 2010
When Life Hands You Lemons...
... they say "make lemonade."
But, if you've just spent two weeks in the Philippines, you might instead say "When life hands you calamansi, make calamansi juice!"
Coming back to Korea late last night from an epic 12 day adventure in the warm and beautiful country known as Philippines, two friends and I were greeted by Seoul in the most appropriate way I could imagine--cold crisp air, the sweet smell of soju wafting off the suits of wobbly drunken men in the subway station, and K-pop blaring from unknown corners of the city. Welcome home, said Korea.
To truly solidify the fact that we were indeed back in Korea, we were faced with a calamansi juice moment. All three of us very eager to return to Jinju immediately on the ever-so convenient 'midnight bus' back to Jinju, we raced across multiple subway lines in Seoul to the bus station only to find out that all the seats were taken and no more tickets were available. We were thoroughly disappointed, but even our short 12 days in relaxed and seemingly eternally happy Philippines was enough to give us no option but to roll with it. In fact, it took all of about two minutes before we were really quite happy with our situation. Just down the road was a chicken restaurant--very common here--where we indulged in a plate of finger-lickin' good fried chicken and a pitcher of good old Korean beer. Then we made our way down the road to a jjim jil bang (Korean-style sauna) for a solid night's rest before our 6am bus back to Jinju.
*Sparing you from as many unnecessary details as possible (though I tend to have an unusually difficult time doing so), the basic approach to a jjim jil bang is as follows: pay the entrance fee of less than US$10; take the key, towels, t-shirt and shorts that are handed to you and enter into the appropriately gender-segregated room; remove your shoes and place them in a small locker; enter a larger room, find your locker, strip your clothes off, grab your shampoo and soap; enter the bathing room through a sliding glass door, scrub yourself clean with a hand-held shower head while sitting on a small plastic stool in front of a mirror; relax and soak in any number of hot pools of varying temperatures; scrub and shower again; dry off; brush your teeth, put on lotion, dry your hair (and do whatever else you feel the need to do); put on the pink (in this case) cotton t-shirt and shorts and head to the sleeping room with (again, in this case) a four-foot ceiling and where there are rows of mats lined up and ready to be slept on; sleep for as long as you'd like among dozens of Korean women also wearing the pink cotton t-shirts and shorts.
This was my first experience sleeping in a jjim jil bang, though I've used the sauna/baths at my local fitness gym a number of times. I can't wait to give it another go--what a brilliant concept!
Admittedly, I'm still on an extreme high from my vacation--and don't expect to come down for at least a week. But, I can say with full confidence that we concocted the best damn calamansi juice ever made. Philippines 2010 rocked my world.
More to come soon.
But, if you've just spent two weeks in the Philippines, you might instead say "When life hands you calamansi, make calamansi juice!"
Coming back to Korea late last night from an epic 12 day adventure in the warm and beautiful country known as Philippines, two friends and I were greeted by Seoul in the most appropriate way I could imagine--cold crisp air, the sweet smell of soju wafting off the suits of wobbly drunken men in the subway station, and K-pop blaring from unknown corners of the city. Welcome home, said Korea.
To truly solidify the fact that we were indeed back in Korea, we were faced with a calamansi juice moment. All three of us very eager to return to Jinju immediately on the ever-so convenient 'midnight bus' back to Jinju, we raced across multiple subway lines in Seoul to the bus station only to find out that all the seats were taken and no more tickets were available. We were thoroughly disappointed, but even our short 12 days in relaxed and seemingly eternally happy Philippines was enough to give us no option but to roll with it. In fact, it took all of about two minutes before we were really quite happy with our situation. Just down the road was a chicken restaurant--very common here--where we indulged in a plate of finger-lickin' good fried chicken and a pitcher of good old Korean beer. Then we made our way down the road to a jjim jil bang (Korean-style sauna) for a solid night's rest before our 6am bus back to Jinju.
*Sparing you from as many unnecessary details as possible (though I tend to have an unusually difficult time doing so), the basic approach to a jjim jil bang is as follows: pay the entrance fee of less than US$10; take the key, towels, t-shirt and shorts that are handed to you and enter into the appropriately gender-segregated room; remove your shoes and place them in a small locker; enter a larger room, find your locker, strip your clothes off, grab your shampoo and soap; enter the bathing room through a sliding glass door, scrub yourself clean with a hand-held shower head while sitting on a small plastic stool in front of a mirror; relax and soak in any number of hot pools of varying temperatures; scrub and shower again; dry off; brush your teeth, put on lotion, dry your hair (and do whatever else you feel the need to do); put on the pink (in this case) cotton t-shirt and shorts and head to the sleeping room with (again, in this case) a four-foot ceiling and where there are rows of mats lined up and ready to be slept on; sleep for as long as you'd like among dozens of Korean women also wearing the pink cotton t-shirts and shorts.
This was my first experience sleeping in a jjim jil bang, though I've used the sauna/baths at my local fitness gym a number of times. I can't wait to give it another go--what a brilliant concept!
Admittedly, I'm still on an extreme high from my vacation--and don't expect to come down for at least a week. But, I can say with full confidence that we concocted the best damn calamansi juice ever made. Philippines 2010 rocked my world.
More to come soon.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The $20 Umbrella and Other Tales
It’s still raining in Jinju.
I broke down Tuesday morning and bought an umbrella at the convenience store on my way to school. I was not in a particularly bright mood, and under normal circumstances my indecisive self would have spent about five minutes on the decision of which umbrella to purchase. Do I want a small, compact umbrella that I can easily stow in my purse on those looks-like-it-might-rain-but-who-really-knows days? Or, do I want a larger umbrella that is sure to protect more of my body from the rain, but is a hassle to store? And then comes the ultimate question—which color do I want? (And the answer would definitely NOT be the pink Hello Kitty umbrella). Lucky for me—since I was already running a little late to school—I wasn’t in the mood to make a decision and just grabbed the first umbrella in line. It was a long, pointed, plain black umbrella with white around the edges. This, I decided on my walk to school, would be my school umbrella, and at some point in the future I would purchase a smaller one for those days that I’m on the move.
Thankful for my new umbrella, I walked to a teacher’s lunch on Wednesday after the graduation ceremony for the 3rd grade middle school boys. The parents of twin boys at the school paid for this lunch for all of the teachers at the school because their sons got into the top high school in Jinju—a VERY big deal. I shared my umbrella with a teacher who didn’t have her own, but we walked in silence the whole way to the restaurant due to our, umm, lack of communication abilities. I tried once to say something, but she just responded with a nervous laugh. I left my umbrella in the umbrella container at the front door with all of the other umbrellas. We ate lunch—an amazing array of all things seafood at a Japanese sushi restaurant. Then, when I put my shoes back on and went to retrieve my umbrella for the walk home, to my dismay, it was gone. Somebody took my brand new, $10 umbrella.
They’ll leave your children and your unlocked bicycles alone here in Korea, but they’ll take your umbrellas. Watch out.
No, I’m sure it was not intentional, but you can imagine my frustration at the situation. The amusing thing was that nobody seemed fazed that my umbrella had been taken. Perhaps either Jinju suffers from extreme umbrella theft, people didn’t understand what had happened, or people were too passive or embarrassed to react (and more than likely it was a combination of the latter two).
So, I walked home in the rain and sprinted to the same convenience store this morning in the pouring rain to purchase another umbrella—this time a small one—from the same lady who sold me the umbrella two days prior. When I set the umbrella down on the counter, she looked at me, said something and laughed. I have no idea what she said, but I didn’t have to know. I already knew. From here forth I shall keep a closer eye on my new ‘$20’ umbrella.
On an unrelated and very random note, I now fully understand why my desk at school is located where it is in the teacher’s office. My desk sits directly under the heater vent, which, in many ways is quite nice and keeps me warm inside this frigid school. However, I constantly feel as though I’ve got a warm, dry wind from the north blowing through my hair. Not to mention the less than desired drying out of my skin and hair.
I would like to take this moment of randomness to also educate you on my experience at my local fitness facility and sauna. The facility is located only about a three minute’s walk from my apartment and is appropriately called “Theme Spa Land.” Makes sense, right?
The first time I went with my friend Megan. We were clueless and, like everything else here, took it one step at a time. We paid to enter and then went up the stairs to the second floor as we were told. We entered a small room lined with shoe lockers. Peering through another door, we saw hanging bras for sale and naked women bustling about a locker room. We weren’t ready for that, so we went up to the third floor and stayed away from the identical looking doors that could only have been the men’s locker room. Imagine everybody’s shock had we gone exploring in there… We found the fitness center on the fourth floor (recall that everything in Korea is built upwards, given the extreme lack of space in this country). We walked through the doors into a room with K-pop blaring through the speakers. If you’ve never given yourself the pleasure of listening to K-pop, you’re missing out. Sometime I’ll post a link to some of the popular songs. Looking around (and simultaneously being gawked at by at least ten Theme Spa Land patrons), the first thing we noticed aside from the inspiring music were the matching workout uniforms. Navy knee-length shorts and a grey t-shirt with red sleeves for the women, navy sleeves for the men. We continued to the treadmills not worrying about whether these uniforms were required, which they’re not, and decided to pull the idiot foreigner card if need be.
Megan and I finished our workout and ventured back toward the room of hanging bras and naked women. We found our assigned lockers and stood there discussing what we thought were ‘appropriate’ procedures for entering the sauna—aka, public baths where everybody’s naked, scrubbing themselves and others raw and relaxing in hot baths together. We tried to observe, without seeming creepy. We stripped down, though quite reluctantly at first, and went through the sliding glass doors. On the left were about six rows of mirrors, stools and hand-held shower heads full of women washing themselves. We set our small orange towels and stepped into the hot bath. It only took about twenty seconds for the other woman in the bath to get out. Coincidence? Perhaps, but we’ve now learned that we are to scrub and shower before we enter the baths. Note taken.
I’ve returned another three or four times and have become quite fond of Theme Spa Land and its blaring K-pop, matching workout uniforms (which I have yet to sport during my own workout) and hot baths—despite that when I went the other night there were three teachers from my school watching my every move in the sauna…
In other random news, the people of this province, Gyeongsangnam Province, have a very thick and different accent from those in the rest of the country. I suppose, then, that my learning to speak Korean in Jinju would be comparable to somebody learning to speak English in the Deep South or something. And on top of the accent, people speak very aggressively here. Somebody may be having a friendly, jovial conversation with a good friend, but to a foreigner it sounds as though they are arguing! Now when I witness two old men yelling at one another on the sidewalk, I just ignore it.
Wednesday was the graduation ceremony for the 3rd grade middle school boys (our equivalent of 9th graders), in which nothing really stood out to be too different than your average American 8th grade graduation—minus the amazing 8th grade dance that always follows in the school gym, boys lining the walls on one side and girls on the other. Today, Thursday, was a half day and I only had to teach one class. We’ve got another teacher’s lunch and then I’m free from school until March 2. To think I’ll have been for two and half months already by the time I really start teaching these crazy, unruly and hormonal boys…
I broke down Tuesday morning and bought an umbrella at the convenience store on my way to school. I was not in a particularly bright mood, and under normal circumstances my indecisive self would have spent about five minutes on the decision of which umbrella to purchase. Do I want a small, compact umbrella that I can easily stow in my purse on those looks-like-it-might-rain-but-who-really-knows days? Or, do I want a larger umbrella that is sure to protect more of my body from the rain, but is a hassle to store? And then comes the ultimate question—which color do I want? (And the answer would definitely NOT be the pink Hello Kitty umbrella). Lucky for me—since I was already running a little late to school—I wasn’t in the mood to make a decision and just grabbed the first umbrella in line. It was a long, pointed, plain black umbrella with white around the edges. This, I decided on my walk to school, would be my school umbrella, and at some point in the future I would purchase a smaller one for those days that I’m on the move.
Thankful for my new umbrella, I walked to a teacher’s lunch on Wednesday after the graduation ceremony for the 3rd grade middle school boys. The parents of twin boys at the school paid for this lunch for all of the teachers at the school because their sons got into the top high school in Jinju—a VERY big deal. I shared my umbrella with a teacher who didn’t have her own, but we walked in silence the whole way to the restaurant due to our, umm, lack of communication abilities. I tried once to say something, but she just responded with a nervous laugh. I left my umbrella in the umbrella container at the front door with all of the other umbrellas. We ate lunch—an amazing array of all things seafood at a Japanese sushi restaurant. Then, when I put my shoes back on and went to retrieve my umbrella for the walk home, to my dismay, it was gone. Somebody took my brand new, $10 umbrella.
They’ll leave your children and your unlocked bicycles alone here in Korea, but they’ll take your umbrellas. Watch out.
No, I’m sure it was not intentional, but you can imagine my frustration at the situation. The amusing thing was that nobody seemed fazed that my umbrella had been taken. Perhaps either Jinju suffers from extreme umbrella theft, people didn’t understand what had happened, or people were too passive or embarrassed to react (and more than likely it was a combination of the latter two).
So, I walked home in the rain and sprinted to the same convenience store this morning in the pouring rain to purchase another umbrella—this time a small one—from the same lady who sold me the umbrella two days prior. When I set the umbrella down on the counter, she looked at me, said something and laughed. I have no idea what she said, but I didn’t have to know. I already knew. From here forth I shall keep a closer eye on my new ‘$20’ umbrella.
On an unrelated and very random note, I now fully understand why my desk at school is located where it is in the teacher’s office. My desk sits directly under the heater vent, which, in many ways is quite nice and keeps me warm inside this frigid school. However, I constantly feel as though I’ve got a warm, dry wind from the north blowing through my hair. Not to mention the less than desired drying out of my skin and hair.
I would like to take this moment of randomness to also educate you on my experience at my local fitness facility and sauna. The facility is located only about a three minute’s walk from my apartment and is appropriately called “Theme Spa Land.” Makes sense, right?
The first time I went with my friend Megan. We were clueless and, like everything else here, took it one step at a time. We paid to enter and then went up the stairs to the second floor as we were told. We entered a small room lined with shoe lockers. Peering through another door, we saw hanging bras for sale and naked women bustling about a locker room. We weren’t ready for that, so we went up to the third floor and stayed away from the identical looking doors that could only have been the men’s locker room. Imagine everybody’s shock had we gone exploring in there… We found the fitness center on the fourth floor (recall that everything in Korea is built upwards, given the extreme lack of space in this country). We walked through the doors into a room with K-pop blaring through the speakers. If you’ve never given yourself the pleasure of listening to K-pop, you’re missing out. Sometime I’ll post a link to some of the popular songs. Looking around (and simultaneously being gawked at by at least ten Theme Spa Land patrons), the first thing we noticed aside from the inspiring music were the matching workout uniforms. Navy knee-length shorts and a grey t-shirt with red sleeves for the women, navy sleeves for the men. We continued to the treadmills not worrying about whether these uniforms were required, which they’re not, and decided to pull the idiot foreigner card if need be.
Megan and I finished our workout and ventured back toward the room of hanging bras and naked women. We found our assigned lockers and stood there discussing what we thought were ‘appropriate’ procedures for entering the sauna—aka, public baths where everybody’s naked, scrubbing themselves and others raw and relaxing in hot baths together. We tried to observe, without seeming creepy. We stripped down, though quite reluctantly at first, and went through the sliding glass doors. On the left were about six rows of mirrors, stools and hand-held shower heads full of women washing themselves. We set our small orange towels and stepped into the hot bath. It only took about twenty seconds for the other woman in the bath to get out. Coincidence? Perhaps, but we’ve now learned that we are to scrub and shower before we enter the baths. Note taken.
I’ve returned another three or four times and have become quite fond of Theme Spa Land and its blaring K-pop, matching workout uniforms (which I have yet to sport during my own workout) and hot baths—despite that when I went the other night there were three teachers from my school watching my every move in the sauna…
In other random news, the people of this province, Gyeongsangnam Province, have a very thick and different accent from those in the rest of the country. I suppose, then, that my learning to speak Korean in Jinju would be comparable to somebody learning to speak English in the Deep South or something. And on top of the accent, people speak very aggressively here. Somebody may be having a friendly, jovial conversation with a good friend, but to a foreigner it sounds as though they are arguing! Now when I witness two old men yelling at one another on the sidewalk, I just ignore it.
Wednesday was the graduation ceremony for the 3rd grade middle school boys (our equivalent of 9th graders), in which nothing really stood out to be too different than your average American 8th grade graduation—minus the amazing 8th grade dance that always follows in the school gym, boys lining the walls on one side and girls on the other. Today, Thursday, was a half day and I only had to teach one class. We’ve got another teacher’s lunch and then I’m free from school until March 2. To think I’ll have been for two and half months already by the time I really start teaching these crazy, unruly and hormonal boys…
Monday, February 8, 2010
Yes, I am Long-Winded (in Writing)...
Jinju is considered a small city by Korean standards, with a population of somewhere around 350,000. It's known as the "Education City" and the only things here that would attract tourists are the huge fortress that sits on the Nam River and survived two large Japanese invasions in the late 16th century, the 10-day lantern festival held every October, and its proximity to other attractions in Korea like Jirisan National Park. Oh yeah, and perhaps the bull-fighting event that is supposedly held every weekend here, though I have yet to witness that myself...
True, Jinju is not necessarily an "exciting" city, but it has it's charm. After all, Jinju's motto is "Jinju Charm"--as proudly displayed all over on random signs throughout the city. Jinju is pretty much all I knew of Korea for my first six weeks here and I've liked it from the beginning. That doesn't mean it's not nice to get of town for a while, however. A few friends and I took advantage of our time off from school during winter vacation and spent about four days in each Busan (Korea's second largest city) and Seoul, and now Korea has stolen my heart even more. (Check out the next post for a photo-recap of my trips to each city).
But first...
You may wonder why, when given over two weeks of vacation time, I would choose to travel within the tiny country of South Korea (which, mind you, one can get just about anywhere in the country within five hours on a bus) when I could instead travel to another country nearby. Another country like China or Japan. Another country like... Thailand. Yes, Thailand, a country that is on the top of my list of places to visit because every person I have ever met who has traveled in Thailand RAVES about it. Well, let me assure you, Thailand was the plan--especially when my friend and I found tickets for $400. But alas, my plan was spoiled.
You see, some Americans get lucky when they obtain their working visa for Korea and are automatically granted a multiple re-entry into Korea. Not me. I was one of the unlucky ones who was given only a single re-entry into the country, thus creating a major problem should I have left Korea and tried to come back in. So, naturally I had to take an extra step--and hand over a hefty amount of extra cash--in order to change this.
Long story... long, I headed over to the office for foreign workers here in Jinju on the first Wednesday that I possibly could (to make things SO easy, one can only take care of such tasks on Wednesdays). They told me I would receive my passport with its updated visa within two weeks. A few of my friends, however, had told me that it only took about four days for theirs to process, so I had high hopes that perhaps mine would also turn over in only a few days and I may have just enough time for a 12 day trip to Thailand. I couldn't have been more excited.
Monday arrives. My friend received his passport and updated visa in the mail and told me to be ready for mine, since he applied on the SAME day. I waited longingly in my apartment all day long, maintaining high hopes that I would hear a knock on my door at any given moment.
Someone knocked on my door only moments later. Heart racing, I stood up and opened my door in excitement to find that a strange man had accidentally knocked on the wrong door. Damn.
No passport. And did I mention that my internet had just completely stopped working on the previous Saturday?
Tuesday comes. I am positive it will arrive on this day. Again, I shut myself in my apartment and refuse to leave all day, lest I miss the mailman and his special delivery. I was trying not to think about the fact that I was sitting inside my apartment for the second day in a row during one of my handful of weeks of vacation when I could be out touring a fascinating country that has a lot to offer. I used the thought of sitting on a beach in Thailand to level these thoughts.
No passport. No internet. Went to the gym to work off the cabin fever that was beginning to overcome me.
Then comes Wednesday. I am trying to hold back all feelings and thoughts of concern and annoyance. My internet guy was supposed to have come to my house to fix whatever had taken away my internet connection. Hours passed and still no internet guy OR passport. I decide to take action and head back over to the foreign worker's office and inquire in person to the whereabouts of my passport. I call the internet guy to tell him I have to leave my apartment, turns out he'd forgotten about me--or something. His English is limited. He told me he could come to my house at 5pm, no later. It was almost 4pm.
I talk to my friend Megan, who had offered to accompany me to find out about my passport. I'm walking to meet her on the street corner so we can hop on a bus when she calls me. "I found kittens! And they're in the street and they're going to get run over! I want to take them home!" (Or something along those lines). Oh no. She and I both have a HUGE soft spot for kittens. I agree to help her capture the kittens.
Obviously, we had no luck capturing the feral kittens and it is now well after 4pm. We reluctantly give up and head downtown to the office. I don't get any answers from the man working there, but I do get a phone number. We leave so I can get back to my apartment for the internet guy. We're waiting for the bus, when suddenly we hear a huge BOOM--an explosion, of sorts. The rear of bus #35 (where the engine is), which had pulled curbside right in front of us, started smoking. Passengers immediately bailed and there were confused looks on the faces of both passengers and passerbys. It wasn't really a big deal, but it was still fun to laugh about the 'bus explosion' that we witnessed--embellished though it may be.
I call the phone number, and speak to a woman with delightful English skills after floundering around on the phone with another man first for the entire bus ride home. All she could tell me was that if my passport didn't show up next week, call her back.
The internet guy comes, he fixes my internet, and his friend/coworker shows up in the middle of it all to bring us all coffee and chat in English a bit--and because, according to my internet guy--he missed me. (They had both worked on my internet previously and we had exchanged some friendly, yet broken, English conversation). This time, when they left, we all agreed that we were friends and someday we'd go out for coffee or beer or soju, or something of the like. I haven't seen them since.
I get a phone call. It's the passport woman. She tells me it will be delivered that night! Megan comes over and we scope out Thailand tickets and share a pizza during this celebratory time.
No passport. Broken hearts, full bellies. At least I have internet.
Thursday arrives. I take advantage of a helpful, English speaking coteacher and ring her up, asking her to call the office for me and ask about my passport. She happily helps me out and then informs me that my passport will indeed be delivered that day. FINALLY, my passport arrives in the afternoon and Megan and I are ecstatic. We could still have nearly two weeks in Thailand.
No such luck. Ticket prices rose. Tickets that were supposed to exist, in actuality, were a fraud and no longer existed at all, as the airlines had slacked on changing their information.
Our dreams of sunshine and sand and dancing on a moon-lit beach for the full-moon party were crushed.
Luckily, she and I could still look forward to another two-week vacation coming up in Vietnam and Philippines, respectively...
True, Jinju is not necessarily an "exciting" city, but it has it's charm. After all, Jinju's motto is "Jinju Charm"--as proudly displayed all over on random signs throughout the city. Jinju is pretty much all I knew of Korea for my first six weeks here and I've liked it from the beginning. That doesn't mean it's not nice to get of town for a while, however. A few friends and I took advantage of our time off from school during winter vacation and spent about four days in each Busan (Korea's second largest city) and Seoul, and now Korea has stolen my heart even more. (Check out the next post for a photo-recap of my trips to each city).
But first...
You may wonder why, when given over two weeks of vacation time, I would choose to travel within the tiny country of South Korea (which, mind you, one can get just about anywhere in the country within five hours on a bus) when I could instead travel to another country nearby. Another country like China or Japan. Another country like... Thailand. Yes, Thailand, a country that is on the top of my list of places to visit because every person I have ever met who has traveled in Thailand RAVES about it. Well, let me assure you, Thailand was the plan--especially when my friend and I found tickets for $400. But alas, my plan was spoiled.
You see, some Americans get lucky when they obtain their working visa for Korea and are automatically granted a multiple re-entry into Korea. Not me. I was one of the unlucky ones who was given only a single re-entry into the country, thus creating a major problem should I have left Korea and tried to come back in. So, naturally I had to take an extra step--and hand over a hefty amount of extra cash--in order to change this.
Long story... long, I headed over to the office for foreign workers here in Jinju on the first Wednesday that I possibly could (to make things SO easy, one can only take care of such tasks on Wednesdays). They told me I would receive my passport with its updated visa within two weeks. A few of my friends, however, had told me that it only took about four days for theirs to process, so I had high hopes that perhaps mine would also turn over in only a few days and I may have just enough time for a 12 day trip to Thailand. I couldn't have been more excited.
Monday arrives. My friend received his passport and updated visa in the mail and told me to be ready for mine, since he applied on the SAME day. I waited longingly in my apartment all day long, maintaining high hopes that I would hear a knock on my door at any given moment.
Someone knocked on my door only moments later. Heart racing, I stood up and opened my door in excitement to find that a strange man had accidentally knocked on the wrong door. Damn.
No passport. And did I mention that my internet had just completely stopped working on the previous Saturday?
Tuesday comes. I am positive it will arrive on this day. Again, I shut myself in my apartment and refuse to leave all day, lest I miss the mailman and his special delivery. I was trying not to think about the fact that I was sitting inside my apartment for the second day in a row during one of my handful of weeks of vacation when I could be out touring a fascinating country that has a lot to offer. I used the thought of sitting on a beach in Thailand to level these thoughts.
No passport. No internet. Went to the gym to work off the cabin fever that was beginning to overcome me.
Then comes Wednesday. I am trying to hold back all feelings and thoughts of concern and annoyance. My internet guy was supposed to have come to my house to fix whatever had taken away my internet connection. Hours passed and still no internet guy OR passport. I decide to take action and head back over to the foreign worker's office and inquire in person to the whereabouts of my passport. I call the internet guy to tell him I have to leave my apartment, turns out he'd forgotten about me--or something. His English is limited. He told me he could come to my house at 5pm, no later. It was almost 4pm.
I talk to my friend Megan, who had offered to accompany me to find out about my passport. I'm walking to meet her on the street corner so we can hop on a bus when she calls me. "I found kittens! And they're in the street and they're going to get run over! I want to take them home!" (Or something along those lines). Oh no. She and I both have a HUGE soft spot for kittens. I agree to help her capture the kittens.
Obviously, we had no luck capturing the feral kittens and it is now well after 4pm. We reluctantly give up and head downtown to the office. I don't get any answers from the man working there, but I do get a phone number. We leave so I can get back to my apartment for the internet guy. We're waiting for the bus, when suddenly we hear a huge BOOM--an explosion, of sorts. The rear of bus #35 (where the engine is), which had pulled curbside right in front of us, started smoking. Passengers immediately bailed and there were confused looks on the faces of both passengers and passerbys. It wasn't really a big deal, but it was still fun to laugh about the 'bus explosion' that we witnessed--embellished though it may be.
I call the phone number, and speak to a woman with delightful English skills after floundering around on the phone with another man first for the entire bus ride home. All she could tell me was that if my passport didn't show up next week, call her back.
The internet guy comes, he fixes my internet, and his friend/coworker shows up in the middle of it all to bring us all coffee and chat in English a bit--and because, according to my internet guy--he missed me. (They had both worked on my internet previously and we had exchanged some friendly, yet broken, English conversation). This time, when they left, we all agreed that we were friends and someday we'd go out for coffee or beer or soju, or something of the like. I haven't seen them since.
I get a phone call. It's the passport woman. She tells me it will be delivered that night! Megan comes over and we scope out Thailand tickets and share a pizza during this celebratory time.
No passport. Broken hearts, full bellies. At least I have internet.
Thursday arrives. I take advantage of a helpful, English speaking coteacher and ring her up, asking her to call the office for me and ask about my passport. She happily helps me out and then informs me that my passport will indeed be delivered that day. FINALLY, my passport arrives in the afternoon and Megan and I are ecstatic. We could still have nearly two weeks in Thailand.
No such luck. Ticket prices rose. Tickets that were supposed to exist, in actuality, were a fraud and no longer existed at all, as the airlines had slacked on changing their information.
Our dreams of sunshine and sand and dancing on a moon-lit beach for the full-moon party were crushed.
Luckily, she and I could still look forward to another two-week vacation coming up in Vietnam and Philippines, respectively...
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Rain, Rain, Go Away
I’m not sure whether the people of Jinju think the rain will melt them, but I did not see a single person this morning walking without an umbrella, with the exception of one young boy—who was obviously running away from the rain on his way to school. I was half waiting for some ajumma (the name used to refer to older women) or teacher at my school to walk or drive by and scold me for not using an umbrella. Instead, the kind woman whom I believe is the head of all cafeteria operations—and who, when I first got here, would always bring me a plastic fork at lunch time and who also insisted on giving me an extra piece of cake on our last day of school in December—walked me from the parking lot to the front entrance of the school with her umbrella. Then she turned around and backtracked to where she needed to go. People here are genuinely some of the kindest I have ever met.
Today is only the second time it has rained in Jinju since my arrival eight weeks ago. The majority of other days have been sunny, but cold. Truthfully, the rain brought about a slight feeling of nostalgia, as it reminds me of winters back home. Nevertheless, I still prefer the sun
I’m finally back at school after a long winter break—that is, until I leave for a 12-day adventure to the Philippines on Valentine’s Day! The timing in which I was brought over here to be a Native English Teacher is a little strange. I arrived in the middle of the second to last week of school in December, thus only having about four full days in the classroom, and all of which I only introduced myself and played a game with the boys. I had no school responsibilities the week between Christmas and New Year’s, then had two weeks of Winter English Camp before another two and a half weeks of no school. This random week of school in February began last Friday the 5th, and will commence on Thursday the 11th. This is the final week of the school year and will include a graduation ceremony for the 3rd grade middle school boys on Wednesday. March 2nd will be the first day of the new school year.
My employment in Korea thus far seems a little crazy, but I would ultimately get the same amount of time off regardless of when I started. It just so happens that it all came in the beginning of my contract period. I will get a few more weeks of vacation come summer time, but from March until December 2011, it will be mostly about work, and I am truthfully ready to have a little routine in my life—not to mention the feeling of being productive and contributing to something larger than myself!
Expect to hear from me a bit more often now that I’m no longer off gallivanting around South Korea…
Today is only the second time it has rained in Jinju since my arrival eight weeks ago. The majority of other days have been sunny, but cold. Truthfully, the rain brought about a slight feeling of nostalgia, as it reminds me of winters back home. Nevertheless, I still prefer the sun
I’m finally back at school after a long winter break—that is, until I leave for a 12-day adventure to the Philippines on Valentine’s Day! The timing in which I was brought over here to be a Native English Teacher is a little strange. I arrived in the middle of the second to last week of school in December, thus only having about four full days in the classroom, and all of which I only introduced myself and played a game with the boys. I had no school responsibilities the week between Christmas and New Year’s, then had two weeks of Winter English Camp before another two and a half weeks of no school. This random week of school in February began last Friday the 5th, and will commence on Thursday the 11th. This is the final week of the school year and will include a graduation ceremony for the 3rd grade middle school boys on Wednesday. March 2nd will be the first day of the new school year.
My employment in Korea thus far seems a little crazy, but I would ultimately get the same amount of time off regardless of when I started. It just so happens that it all came in the beginning of my contract period. I will get a few more weeks of vacation come summer time, but from March until December 2011, it will be mostly about work, and I am truthfully ready to have a little routine in my life—not to mention the feeling of being productive and contributing to something larger than myself!
Expect to hear from me a bit more often now that I’m no longer off gallivanting around South Korea…
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