The Roundup

With only 9 days until we return to Canada, we've been busy - especially because we booked a final trip to Beijing from this Thursday morning until next Monday, which means that we've only got 5 days or so left in Korea.  Needless to say, we started trying to pawn off our furniture and pack early, and have nearly gutted our apartment of unnecessaries.

This final month of classes started off with a bang, slowed to a crawl mid-month (I might have gotten a little over-eager and made a to-do list too early in the game), and then whizzed to the final few days of work.  I find it hard to believe that Tuesday will be my last day of full-time work in over a year.  The way we've been going out for dinner lately would have you believe that I'm getting a promotion instead of entering a year of graduate school in September.

Jon ran a half-marathon on June 14 - in great time, of course - with Patrick.  I opted out of the race because the previous weeks had replaced workouts with eating out.  I also received a clear sign that I shouldn't run: Keedo ate my race chip.

The past few weekends have been spent with our friends, browsing knick-knack shops in Insa-dong, drinking beer on patios, and cruising around Hongdae, a hotspot for art students and club-goers.  We've finally tried noori-bang (i.e. karaoke rooms); bought lots of little Korean souvenirs; drunk cocktails from a bag on the street; tried out an ice bar; gone drinking with our managers (a must in Korean corporate culture - I kid not); planned the trip to Beijing; and generally just started preparing ourselves for life in Canada.  I welcome any advice on reverse culture shock from those who have also lived abroad for long periods of time.  Gangnam could not be more different from Georgetown or Gads Hill.

We've also started reminiscing a little early about Korea.  We'll miss cheap transportation, having nearly everything we needed close by, inexpensive meals out, being able to drink alcohol on the street, sharing food with everyone at the table, and Korean food, most definitely.  Our job has been enjoyable and the students we teach are, on the whole, pretty interesting.  Most of all, we've met some amazing friends that we'll really miss when we return.

There are, of course, some things we won't miss.  I won't miss having to throw used toilet paper into a smelly, open-top garbage can; the smell of rotting garbage on the street in summer time; air pollution, of course; and the inability to run in my own neighbourhood without dodging cars or hitting a red light.  I hope to never again have to wake up at 5:30am to get ready for work; or stay up really late to make a run-of-the-mill phone call home.

About some other things, I have mixed feelings.  The speed of life here is breakneck, making for an excitingly fast lifestyle that is sometimes impossible to keep up with.  The rabid consumer culture, while repulsively thoughtless at first, is recklessly fun.  About other things, it's just too early to tell.  I guess we'll know 9 days from now.

Shots from Southern Vietnam

The final leg started on a nearly private beach in Long Hai, and began its denouement on the colourful streets of Saigon - or Ho Chi Minh City, as the officials call it - for great international cuisine, a Chinese temple, and that fragrant fruit, durian, before our flight back to Seoul.

Shots from Laos

From a gun on the counter at the top of the Mekong, two days down the river to Louang Phabang (experiencing all that riverside living has to offer), a bus ride to the beautiful falls of Vientienne and finally a quick jet to the next stop ... our only option, thanks to a little white book.

Shanghaied

None of us have been duped into sailing the high seas, exactly.  But on Sunday night, Lunar New Year's Eve, despite the chill bar lounge music in the Royal Meridian in central Shanghai, many stomachs were rumbling like the great oceans ...

Long story short: seven of the nine travelers got food poisoning at a popular family restaurant near our hotel before we rang in the Year of the Ox.  Jon, who must have eaten more of this poison than the rest of us, is currently in hospital here in Seoul on IV.  One of our managers took him after he'd called in sick Wednesday morning and I haven't seen him since.  Visiting hours, see, are within my working day, giving me only one hour in the morning to visit - not counting the unpredictable traffic that might turn a 30 minute drive into one over twice as long.  So, Ruda has set him up with stuff to read and - go figure - Jon had thought ahead and brought a few of his own things to the hospital.

Although I'd initially been pretty concerned, knowing Korean doctors' propensity to overprescribe medication and Jon's (over?)willingness to take it, I've since spoken with him and he's doing well on a dose of antibiotics while he awaits test results.  Actually, he's not only doing well, he's been asking about emails and phone calls and is more than ready to get back to work (mentally, at least).  Maybe I'm the one that's been Shanghaied?

More to come later today.

The Scream

Ah, the beauty of Korean cafes ... macchiatos, cappucinos and lattes cost the same as a regular cup o' joe, water is free and seating is plentiful.

On the other hand, you could also say that a regular coffee is far overpriced at above 3,000won (US$3), that the cost of water must be included in this price, and that far too many young people receive an extravagant allowance they spend frivolously on expensive food and caffeinated drinks. Either way, cafes in Gangnam are plentiful and busy, especially in the evenings and on weekends.  South Korea's Paris Croissant (silly maybe, but great pastries) America's Starbucks, and Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, and Italy's Cafe Pascucci are the big names in coffee here, beating out the smaller Korean cafes that can only afford moderately overpriced real estate, like Cafe Ediya, Coffee n Kiss, and others I've yet to pass by.

The School has its own cafe on the 11th floor, a spacious room with a projection TV, English magazines, cards, board games and study space.  Students often want to visit this cafe on the final day of classes, when School policy allows teachers to hold classes outside of our little cubicle rooms, because the coffee is half the price of other cafes and the no-Korean policy helps ease the anxieties of those too embarrassed to speak English outside of The School.  (This, of course, makes you wonder whether they'll ever use English outside of The School)

Now, teaching seven classes per month means that many classes want to go to this upper-floor cafe (which, admittedly, has a much better view than other cafes).  It's horribly boring for us teachers, who would love to get out of the workplace for a break - while getting paid! no less - and are just tired of the long-Friday feeling that two consecutive "Last Day of Classes" events brings our way.  So I often give students the choice, and when they (often) can't decide I suggest a nearby cafe to keep costs down and to keep from stuffing myself with food for two days.

At the end of August, I led a lower-level class to Cafe Pascucci, less than one block from The School, for a mid-afternoon coffee and easy two-hour chat.  We arranged a few tables together on the second floor, went back down to the first to order our lattes, iced caramel macchiatos and iced mochas, then returned to the second floor to chat.  And what a yelling match it was.

With about 80 or so young people on the same floor, all excited about Friday, the beginning of classes - which means rekindled friendships more than anything else, of course - and just hanging out in trendy Gangnam, all five of my students had to lean forward to hear anything said at our table.  Some gave up and engaged in private conversation at either side of me.  One had never really comprehended English anyways - and only answered with nods, a slow "yes," "no" or a confused glance and a desperate plea for translation aimed at another student throughout the class - just chatted away in Korean until somebody else spoke enough for her to listen silently.

Needless to say, we all had to concentrate very hard to hear each other.  That must have been one reason we were so surprised when we heard a terrifying blood-curdling scream come from a few tables away.

All 160 eyes shot towards the source of the scream.  A young woman in a pretty light pink dress was all I saw from my seat, her head held high and face aimed at her boyfriend, who held his own head low, very low.  Call me melodramatic, but I just looked for blood - a lost finger, a gash on a forehead, a nail in a foot, anything.  But no fabric was stained, and no other coffee drinkers make a move towards the troubled couple.  A nearby woman had leaned back in her chair, gripping its back and the table for balance and looking as though she'd been physically pushed into her chair by the power of the scream.  All jaws were dropped, nobody talked, and the chest of the young woman heaved after its incredible exertion.  The silence continued for a full 10 seconds, at least, my heart raced, and Gangnam experienced a rare moment of absolute silence in a very public place.

I'd been told about domestic disputes in Korea after my arrival - been advised not to interfere with a couple shouting and crying in public and to expect conservative gender roles to dominate.  Social divisions based on gender/income, and age especially, have been maybe less apparent to me in classes than they are in the rest of Korea.  But this was a wake up call: not only was this 'domestic' very public, but nobody intervened.  Myself included.  Maybe that's what surprised me most.

The room slowly, quietly restarted their conversation - many talking about the couple who continued to hold their positions, frozen in tableau - until the ripple of murmurs grew into first quiet, then normal-volume conversation.  It didn't reach its initial volume while we were there.

One student of mine, who had just broken up with her boyfriend, took the opportunity to voice concern for the distraught couple, who, she said, "we should understand," or sympathize with.  I turned the conversation to the possibility of depression and the prevalence of such diagnoses in Korea.  Misunderstandings took this conversation into the realm of sleeping pills, and we ended the class 45 minutes after the scream talking about exercise, activity and sports.

It wasn't until I described the incident to other teachers that a third possibility came to mind: could this have been a case of a bratty Korean girl challenging her boyfriend to disobey - or else?  She had left the cafe first, snatching her oversized purse from the chair beside her and walking at a good clip with him only a few steps behind (still hanging his head low, very low).  Although it's all speculation, several senior teachers - both Korean and non-Korean - nodded agreement when I proposed this cause.

So, domestic dispute or temper tantrum?  Either way, I'll never forget the terror she delivered into our minds with a scream that really should be reserved for emergencies.  Isn't there a Korean version of Aesop's 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'?

Down Home (Korean) Cookin'

Pay day took forever to arrive.  We had spent money as we needed in order to get through the tough early days, eating out often and buying a few things that would last the year; gym memberships, a table and two chairs, basic kitchen equipment and our cell phones.  We had put in the work to compensate for our spending, but had no money to compensate us for our work.  Phone calls were made home (at least on my end) to forewarn that help might be needed - how embarrassing! - and new friends were notified that our ability to join them on the weekends was unfortunately curtailed.

[Enter: Puppy.]

The Unnamed One: I want to play play play!  Yes!  She's wearing those big grey curtain bottoms!  I can follow her around and eat them while she walks!  How fun!

[Unnamed One licks Arla's pants, begins to eat them while she's making a late dinner.  She walks away while the Unnamed One continues to chew her pants, sending him flying across the smooth wood floor. This repeats nightly.]

Staying home instead of joining our bubbly (and some not-so-sociable) coworkers was easier done with an excuse to stay close to home.  We told Jon's parents, Sallianne and Dale that this puppy might even save us money.  Scoff.  I told my parents, Rick and Judy, that we might save money this way because we'd be less likely to eat out for lunch and dinner.  Got a pair of reserved nods, a shrug.

Well we may not have saved a whole whack of money so far, but we've been able to pursue other interests (reading fiction, mainly) while experiencing Korean culture on the cheap, and at home with the pup.

[Enter: Korean cookbook]

We began with the basics: rice=based dishes with enough new veg to make it feel authentic.  We were also hoping that the ingredients for a traditional dish would be local and reltively cheap.  A quick trip to the discount goods/food chain store, E-mart, was incredibly successful thanks in no small part to the sample ladies dotted around the store.  I would walk up to these grumpy hagima (middle-aged, often working, women) with my little shopping list, smile shyly as if I had interrupted something private and important, and continue a conversation like this:

Arla: Um ... door-a-jee?

[Hagima looks confused.  Arla points to the word, written in romanized letters, repeats the question.]

Arla: Door-a-jee?

[Lightbulb goes off in the mind of the hagima]

Hagima: Ah, doraji!

[Hagima runs off to another area of the produce section.  Arla tries to scurry behind her without bumping into another shopper's misplaced cart or hitting anybody's elbow.  The hagima speaks quickly to the woman working the open deli-type counter, instructs her to give me a certain amount of what I want - a soaking wet mound of purple-ish sea roots, also known as bellflower root - and the rest is completed with nods and smiles].

Welcome to my world as a slow-speaking, illiterate waygook among a sea of quick-talking, shopping-savvy Koreans.  Luckily for Jon and I, we don't mind smiling like fools and saying thank you, kahamnasida (pron: kam-na-say-e-da), at all the wrong moments ...

Bibimbap, our first rice-based dish, was a success!  After over an hour slicing beef, various types of marinated mushrooms, bracken (gosari), that weird bellflower root, cucumber, egg yolk and egg white into match-sized strips, and frying each ingredient separately in our only frying pan, we could sit down to enjoy our mock-gourmet feast!

The ingredients, clockwise from the yellow egg yolk: doraji, beef, egg white, shiitake mushroom, cucumber, gosari, and manna lichen mushrooms (seokyi beoseot) sitting atop a bed of rice and a dollop of chili paste.  Yummy!!!  So healthy and so tasty!  If I can find the ingredients back home, I'll make it for everyone!!!

Korean Food Culture and the Unnamed One

So, the first month here at The School has finally come to an end. It was hectic and confusing with more to learn in a short period of time than I've ever experienced, both during and outside of work.

Like I might have mentioned, the challenges began on the first day, when we taught 7 hours of class after our brief training: sitting in on 2 hours of classes taught by new teachers. We picked up where substitute teachers had left off, found out days later that we needed to have completed a syllabus within three days and submitted it to our managers, that we needed a name tag (and still don't have one) and just winged it from beginning to end. Over the month, we've learned that most teachers wing it in SLE (Speaking, Listeneing, Expression) classes, because there is no homework to assign and because there are few lesson plans to complete (The School recommends working out of the textbook). But at first, we had put a lot of pressure on ourselves.

After settling into our routine a bit, we've voluntarily thrown a wrench into the works. We've rescued / adopted / begun fostering a puppy. The funny thing is that to explain our reasoning, I have to start with Korea's food culture.

Korea's food culture has changed dramatically since the country began to develop rapidly in the 1980s. Nowadays, young Koreans eat yougurt for breakfast, a sandwich or spicy chicken dish for lunch (often with rice, of course), and something similar for dinner. And always with kimchi, a spicy appetizer of pickled cabbage. Costco is busy, the E-Mart department store used to be owned by Wal-Mart, Starbucks is absolutely everywhere (although declining sales have caused it to shut some stores) and pizza is a big hit. Jon and I have even found some of our favourites - a certain kind of granola, a specific type of yougurt - more available in shops here than at home.

But not all Koreans have changed their dietary habits. We sampled dried minnows in E-Mart last weekend, I knawed on chicken neck when out to dinner with a student, and I've begun to realize that kimchi is omnipresent. Universally linked to celebration, some foods are eaten at a certain time of year. This past week, from July 28 to 30, marked the three hottest days of the year. The appropriate food for this fest? Dog. Mixed breed only, please.

Conveniently, we met our little mutt on the first day of this festival. One month old and weighing under 800g, he had been brought into one of Jon's classes in a plastic bag by Kiddo, a student. Puppy had been a gift between a couple he knew. The couple soonafter broke up and Kiddo was charged with finding a home for the little guy. Not exactly an animal person, Kiddo was en route from picking him up and on his way to the gym, where he was going to put the pup in a locker while he worked out. Yikes!

So, after class, Jon brought Kiddo and the pup to our apartment. He handed me the puppy, all smiles, and asked me a few times, "What do you think?" I was confused until Kiddo walked into the kitchen with a food dish and some kibble. Clearly, we were keeping him.

We have since done all the new-parent things: taking lots of pictures, telling all our students about it, and waking up in the night to calm the crying little guy. We've also realized some constraints that we face - work being far from the most major concern. With broken up shifts, our jobs are actually quite good for this sort of situation, with one or two hours between 3-hour teaching blocks. Neither should our desire to travel be a problem: with lots of teachers living nearby and some sorely missing their own animals, we have volunteer dog-sitters. There are also pet hotels nearby which, although a bit expensive, might be a great option for when we take a longer vacation.

Now that both his body and his voice have begun to grow (within days we've seen lots of change) our most major concern is our living quarters, and whether this is suitable for an energetic dog.

Living in a nice little studio apartment, we have a lot of space for a little pup. By the time he is full-grown, our flat will be relatively small. We have yet to find whether we can keep an animal in the building, although students have suggested that quiet pets are tolerated. I'm not so certain that we'll qualify.

So now we have to make a difficult decision - and soon. Option 1: we find him a home with a dog-friendly family very quickly so that he can adjust to a new living situation at a young age. We will be lonely without him, but free to move around and keep our cash from the pet hotels. Option 2: we follow through with our commitment to keep the dog and stick close to home (for the mostpart). We get a barking collar for him to reduce his barking while we're at work, and bring him home with us to Canada, which should be no problem - $30 plus proof of rabies shots in English is all we need.

Will let you know what we choose to do ... advice and recommendations are welcome!!!