Show Me The Way To Go Home (20 February)

Considering my unsuccessful attempt to find bus #79 and the Bangsong Bus Station in Jeonju yesterday, I’m a little apprehensive about finding my way home from the temple.  Mariah, however, is confident of how to get back to Jeonju and has invited me to travel with her.  Relieved that I won’t end up having to take the AK bus all the way back to Seoul in order to get home, I take her up on this offer. 

The AK bus drops us off at the Geumsan Bus Station approximately one and a half kilometres from the temple.  Waiting at the bus station is the #79 bus which I’m convinced is the one that I can take to get to Jeonju.  I query this with Mariah who tells me that she doesn’t know anything about this particular bus since she took the #5 bus to Gimje.  Okay, I’ll follow her to Gimje then.  We’re at the bus station for about 10 minutes and as the #79 bus drives away from us, I struggle to silence that pesky voice in my head that is telling me I should’ve been on that bus since that’s the most direct route home.  Within minutes, however, the #5 bus arrives and we’re soon settling ourselves into seats for the trip to Gimje.  When we arrive in Gimje, the pesky voice in my head starts telling me that I should stay on the bus until it gets to the bus terminal and then catch a bus from there back to Gunsan but, once again, I ignore it and follow Mariah off the bus and to the train station.

The Scenic Route

We enter the train station and attempt to buy a ticket for the same train on which Mariah has already booked a seat.  The train is only leaving at 15:30 and I once again hear a niggling voice inside my head asking why I have to take a train to get to Jeonju when the temple is a mere 20 minute drive from the city.  Ignoring the voice once more, Mariah and I chat while we wait for the train.  As we chat, I can’t help thinking that it’s already been nearly two and a half hours since we left Geumsansa and I only live 90 minutes from the temple – I should be back in Gunsan already.  Something doesn’t feel right but it almost seems rude to ditch Mariah and try to make my way to the Gimje bus terminal even though Gimje is only an hour bus trip at most from Gunsan.  Instead, I find myself getting on a train wondering where, exactly, I’m headed.  The first stop is Iksan and I again wonder if I should get off the train and find the bus station.  I hesitate too long and we’re once again moving through increasingly rural scenery.  The train trip is scheduled to take just under two hours and I quickly squelch the part of me that questions why I’m on a train at all and ignore the increasingly suspicious voice that tells me I’m heading closer to Seoul than Gunsan.  Catfish, in the meantime is halfway to Gunsan having arrived back from Thailand this morning.

By 17:30, we finally reach our destination of Jochiwon and I’m relieved that I have only an hour more of travelling ahead of me before I’m back in Gunsan.  KiwiKat and NZ2 are waiting for Catfish and I to get back to Gunsan so that we can all go for dinner together.  It’s another short bus ride to the city centre and Mariah offers to see me to the bus station.  It’s close to 18:00 by the time we finally arrive at the bus station and I feel the uncertainty crashing into me as I realise that I don’t recognise this bus terminal.  That pesky voice once again comments that I’ve really taken the scenic route in getting from Geumsansa to Jeonju: a 20 minute trip to Jeonju has taken over five hours. I conclude that I must be at the express bus terminal and we head to another terminal which is close to where Mariah lives anyway. 

Why Won't You Sell Me A Ticket To Gunsan?

We arrive at the smaller terminal and I’m told that I also can’t catch a bus to Gunsan from this terminal.  I’m starting to wonder where exactly I am and that Jeonju is a lot bigger than I’ve ever noticed before.  A woman at this bus terminal writes down the name of the correct terminal for me, Mariah and I exchange numbers and I promise to contact her if I can’t get a bus home tonight as I bid her farewell and give the written address to yet another taxi driver.  An exhausting feeling of déjà vu nearly knocks me off my feet as the driver unceremoniously drops me off at the same bus terminal that I’ve just left.  I decide to ask for a ticket to Gunsan at the counter where the only phrase I understand is “Opsseoyo” (Don’t have).  I feel myself starting to panic as exhaustion overwhelms me.  Desperate not to cry, I step outside of the terminal and try to phone my fantastic co-teacher who lives in Jeonju; her phone remains unanswered and I feel the hysteria begin to rise from deep within as the pompous voice in my head does a victory dance while chanting I told you so! far too loudly considering I’ve been awake since 3:00am. 

By now, Catfish is not only back in Gunsan but has already arrived at NZ2’s apartment which is where I should’ve been for the past three hours at the very least!  In addition, the AK bus is already back in Seoul.  I phone Catfish in panic just to hear a familiar as my frazzled brain tries to figure out why I’m not able to find the correct bus terminal.  Catfish checks the bus schedule online and KiwiKat suggests that I phone Seokjin for help.  I try to get hold of Seokjin but am unsuccessful.  I then phone my Canadian friends and ask if they’d mind fetching me from Jeonju but when I describe where I am in Jeonju, they seem even more confused than I am.  He tells me that I should be able to walk to the correct station and even tells me the Korean name for it.  I again hail a taxi, give him the name of the station and am irritated, puzzled and even more confused when he tells me that I’m already at that station. 

I can feel the hysteria rising like a tsunami as exhaustion, frustration and confusion overwhelm and I must be quite the site standing on the streets of Jeonju sobbing my heart out over a bus!  To make matters worse, my phone battery is dying.  I text YeonJeong in desperation and ask her for help: How do I ask for the intercity bus terminal in Korean?  In my tired mind, the only logical answer is that I’ve been taken to the wrong bus terminal – it never enters my mind that I might not actually be in Jeonju.

Shiwae Buseu Terminale ka Juseyo

As guilt joins this party of pathos, I think once again that I should’ve been back in Gunsan by now and I feel guilty that three people are waiting for my return before going to dinner.  As I text KiwiKat to tell her that I’m still trying to make it home in time for dinner, YeonJeong phones to help me; she asks me to give the phone to a taxi driver and she’ll tell him where to take me.  Relieved to finally be speaking to someone who understands exactly where I want to go, I hail a taxi and hand over the phone.  After much conversation, I start to suspect that something is wrong.  When another driver comes over and joins the conversation, I’m starting to think I should get out of the taxi and take my chances elsewhere.  Three taxi drivers are now involved in a discussion as to where to take me and YeonJeong is still talking to the first driver in a bid to get me home.  I hear the words “train station” and “Iksan” and am impatient in telling them that I don’t want to go to Iksan – I want to go to Gunsan!  I ask YeonJeong to ask the driver if he’s prepared to drive me to Gunsan even though I know that it will probably cost me at least 60 000 won for that trip; she’s one step ahead of me and has already been told that he’ll drive me home for 130 000 won.  I can’t help feeling further frustrated and ripped off: I may not be able to speak or understand much Korean and I know I’m a foreigner but I’m not stupid.  130 000 won for a 45 minute trip is a bit ridiculous and KiwiKat is telling me to get out of the cab, find another taxi and not pay that amount.  She also insists that I phone Seokjin.  I explain that I couldn’t get hold of him and that YeonJeong is assisting me. 

From Gunsan’s “Get Sarah Home” control room, the kiwis and Catfish are double checking bus schedules online and telling me that the buses run until 23:40 every night.  That’s great to know – if only I could get to the right bus station!  From the Seoul “Get Sarah Home” control room, YeonJeong is also checking bus schedules online and telling me that there are buses from Jeonju to Gunsan; she also texts me “Intercity bus terminal” in Korean. It’s now 19:00 and I’m still no closer to getting on a bus than I was an hour again when my latest “Find your way home in Korea” adventure began.  As I once again venture inside the bus terminal, I notice a student wearing a university jacket with the words “Chonbuk National University: Physical Education” emblazoned across the back.  I know that that’s the university in Jeonju so there’s no doubt that I’m in the right city if only I could silence that pesky voice that’s now pointing out that the sign on the building I’m about to enter says “Cheongju Intercity Bus Terminal”.  I know that there’s some disagreement on the romanisation of Korean names but Cheongju sounds like a completely different city to Jeonju. 

Cheongju and Jeonju Are NOT the Same City

I march to the ticket counter in fierce determination and decide that I’m not moving until they sell me a ticket to Gunsan.  The kiwis and Catfish have already gone to dinner since I’m obviously still going to be a while and I’m now tired of this game of Let’s Confuse the Waegook!  I reach the counter and ask for a ticket to Gunsan where I’m again told “Opsseoyo” along with several other things.  Despite my determination not to cry, I feel tears of frustration start sprinting down my ruddy cheeks as I helplessly tell the woman that I don’t understand her – while thinking And you probably don’t understand me!.  Another passenger at the window next to me steps in to translate much to my relief: She tells me that there are no direct buses to Gunsan from this station as the last bus left at 17:45.  I have to take a bus to Jeonju bus station and then catch a bus from there to Gunsan. 

Relieved to finally understand that I can get on a bus in the right direction, although puzzled as to why I have to take a bus to Jeonju when I’m already in Jeonju, I hand over 10 000 won and purchase a ticket for the 19:30 bus.  As I walk away, I’m further puzzled as to why the ticket cost nearly 10 000 won when the trip should take less than 10 minutes to the other side of town.  I phone my Canadian friends to tell them that I’ve bought a ticket but that it says Cheongju to Jeonju.  I’m confused: I don’t want to go to Cheongju but does this mean that I’m currently in Cheongju and not Jeonju.  That pesky voice is back and telling me that I’m getting warmer while my friend tells me that they’ve sold me the wrong ticket and I should change it.  I tell him that I’m getting on this bus and if need be, I’ll take a bus to Seoul and go home from there while wistfully thinking that if only I’d stayed on the AK bus all the way back to Seoul, I would’ve been on my way home to Gunsan by now.  I switch off my phone to try and save whatever power may be left in my battery and once again stare at the name of the bus terminal as it finally dawns on me: I really am in the wrong city! 

On the Road Again

I march purposefully to the assigned platform and board the bus as my brain eeks out the last of its energy trying to figure out where exactly Cheongju is and how long it’s going to take me to get back to Gunsan since the train trip was two hours.  At 19:30, I send Catfish a text to say that I’m in Cheongju and won’t make it in time for dinner.  She’s replies that I should once again try to contact Seokjin who, was an older male, would probably have more success than YeonJeong.  When I confirm that I really am in Cheongju and am now on a bus to Jeonju, her only response (shared by the kiwis) is laughter – much laughter!  My Canadian friends have also contacted me again and are trying to work out how long it’ll take to get from Cheongju to Jeonju – hopefully in time to catch a bus back to Gunsan.  I switch off my phone again for a few minutes.  As the bus leaves the station, I send up a fervent prayer that I’m finally heading in the right direction as I switch on my phone to discover two messages from my fantastic co-teacher: The first is to tell me what to ask a taxi driver in order to get to the correct bus terminal.   The second is a little more frantic: your phone was busy and is now dead. Hope you’re going back to Gunsan! Where r u?  I phone with the reassurance that I’ve figure out I was in the wrong city and am now on my way to Jeonju.

I can only imagine how the kiwis and Catfish must be laughing at this latest and unexpected adventure.  I, on the other hand, am not at all amused: I’m exhausted, frustrated, emotionally drained and I’ve missed dinner with my friend – in fact, I suddenly realise that I’ve missed dinner entirely.  Catfish tries to keep up a supportive role as she tells me that I’m at least now on the right path, that this is an “Oh Korea!” moment and she can’t wait for the blog entry; KiwiKat shares the sentiment.  I’m still not amused.  As Catfish points out, 130 000 won taxi fare from Cheongju to Gunsan doesn’t seem quite as bad now that I know I’m about 40 minutes north of Daejeon and a good two and a half hours from Gunsan. 

Now It's Funny!

By 20:00, I’m starting to see the humour in the situation as I realise that I’ve been travelling for 7 hours already and have barely left the province; I have half of Catfish’s travelling time and she flew back from Thailand!  All this for a trip that should have taken no more than two hours.  The pesky voice in my head is doing yet another victory lap as it rubs my nose in the fact that it’s been right and telling me so for the past seven hours – if only I’d listened to it earlier.  As we rattle over bumps in the road, I feel my heavy eyes start to close as I think of a song that was a hit in 1926 with alternative (suitable) lyrics for this adventure:

Show me the way to go home

I’m tired and I wanna go to bed

I left Geumsansa seven hours ago

And I went to Cheongju instead!

I finally arrive in Jeonju at 21:30 and am so relieved to recognise the bus station that I all but sprint off the bus and head straight to the ticket counter.  I can see a bus bound for Gunsan waiting at the platform if I can just get there fast enough.  I’m so tired that it takes me a moment to register that I’ve asked for a ticket to Gunsan in one sentence using three different language: French, Afrikaans and English.  Without any Korean, I’ve been perfectly understand (if only it had been this easy at 18:00 in Cheongju) and have a ticket to Gunsan in hand – just in time to see the Gunsan bus leave the platform.  As I wait 15 minutes for the next bus, I text everyone to let them know that I’m in Jeonju and waiting for a bus to Gunsan; I’ll be home within an hour.  As I wait, I calculate the cost of the trip home realizing that it would not only have been quicker if I’d gone home via Seoul but cheaper too.

I get back to Gunsan at 22:45 – nearly 10 hours since leaving the temple which is only 90 minutes away – and I’ve never felt so relieved to be home as I am tonight. I send a final text to KiwiKat and Catfish to let them know I’m finally home.  NZ2 suggests that I stay away for another four hours making my day 24 hours long and take a nap  in the morning under my desk at school like the previous foreign teacher used to do.  I draw the line at staying up any later than necessary but a nap at school seems inevitable as I collapse in exhaustion. 

Change is Afoot (18 February)

Catfish has recently told me of the staff changes at her school – including the fact that she is getting all new co-teachers since her current co-teachers will be teaching third grade for the 2011 school year.  I hadn’t really considered that my co-teachers may not be my co-teachers for 2011.  In South Africa, you’re a teacher for a particular grade and tend to teach the same grade for several years.   Assumption is always dangerous in Korea and this has once again been proven as I rush to my fantastic co-teacher and ask her if we’ll be teaching with different Korean teachers for 2011. 

I’m devastated when she confirms that this is so and I suddenly realise just how disappointed I am to have spent so much time invested in building relationships with both of my co-teachers over the last three months and will now have to start the entire process all over again.  I feel like I’ve spent the better part of the last four months attempting to prove myself at my school in one way or another: I’ve had to work hard to convince my colleagues that I’m different from the previous foreign teachers who have abandoned their contracts mid-way or sooner, I’ve had to work hard to try and get my co-teachers to trust me and engage with me so that we can be a successful team in the classroom and I’ve worked extremely hard to convince my students that I’m in this for the long run.  I’m now facing the reality of having to start all over again and I realise that I’m extremely anxious with the uncertainty of knowing who the new Korean English teachers are, who will be my new co-teachers and whether or not the last four months I’ve invested in my attempts to establish a relationship with my fantastic co-teacher and Mr Jeong have all been for nought. 

My fantastic co-teacher tells me that there will be a meeting after lunch for all of the Korean teachers to hear what their new responsibilities will be for the new school.  Each teacher apparently submits requests and a plan for what they hope to achieve in the year ahead and what their personal goals and aspirations are with regard to the school.  After the meeting, my fantastic co-teacher tells that she had hoped to be a homeroom teacher for 2011 because she feels that she has a good relationship with the new second grade students but it’s a demanding job and one that her husband and family asked her not to take for fear that it will be too taxing on her.  She does, however, receive all of the things that she’s requested for the new year and, despite knowing that this means I’ll probably be seeing a lot less of her in the year ahead, I resign myself to the fact that I’ll be starting from scratch in establishing relationships with the new teachers and dig deep within myself to the adult buried deep inside of me to congratulate her and wish her much success and happiness for the year ahead. 

Painting the Town Red - Gunsan Style

The rest of the day passes quickly and NZ2 tells me that KiwiKat is on her way down to Gunsan for the weekend.  I’ve already signed up for an Adventure Korea trip for this weekend so I won’t be able to see her over the weekend unfortunately but I’m still excited by the news that she’ll be arriving at the end of the school day.  She arrives shortly after 16:00 and manages to find her way to our office where we chat briefly before my fantastic co-teacher tells us all that we can leave at 16:30. 

We head into Gunsan to run a few errands after school – mine involves recharging the airtime on my cell phone at the Qook store opposite the bank.  I keep returning to this particular store since there is someone who speaks decent English.  Unfortunately, even though I mostly only go to the store in order to recharge the airtime on my phone, most of the staff there seem to panic with a deer-caught-in-headlights reaction every time I walk in – they all insist that I wait for the guy who speaks English no matter how hard I try to convince them that they can help me with such a small thing.  KiwiKat and NZ2 amuse themselves outside of the store by taking photos of each other dancing next to the dancing character that is a signature of the store.  Today, it’s dancing pig and by the time I finally manage to get the airtime on my phone recharged, they try to convince me to pose beside the pig.  I refuse on grounds of dignity and the fact that I actually have to frequent this particular store in order to recharge my phone each month; I already embarrass myself enough without trying to embarrass myself further.  They head back to NZ2’s apartment to a dinner of French toast which I decline since I need to still wrap KiwiKat’s birthday present before we again meet for coffee at Angel-in-us. 

I meet them just over an hour later outside of the store where they have again been entertaining themselves by taking photos of each other dancing next to the new character – the outfit was changed in the 90 minutes we were gone.  Somehow they manage to convince me to pose for a picture while I feel like a complete idiot.  We then head to Lotte mart which, as KiwiKat points out, is how we paint the town red on a Friday night in Gunsan.  Lotte mart is a hub of activity as usual and I head to the pharmacy while the Kiwis head to Skin Food where NZ2 needs to buy a birthday gift for KiwiKat. 

Ty-he-le-nol

The pharmacist in Lotte mart speaks fairly good English and all I need is Tylenol which is also called Tylenol in Korea.  I approach the counter confidently and the pharmacist smiles as he greets me.  “Hana Tylenol, juseyo,” I say confidently and am greeted with a slightly puzzled look; I try again and smile encouragingly while confident in my Korean pronunciation and proud of the fact that I can form a whole sentence in Korean.  Once more I’m greeted with a slightly puzzled look as the pharmacist asks me to repeat myself again while he listens carefully in an attempt to decipher what I’m trying to purchase.  With slightly less confidence, I narrow my request down to just “Tylenol” which now sounds more like a question than a statement as I try to figure out where I’m going wrong in this exchange.  This time, I’m greeted with a broad smile as he turns away to get a box of Tylenol for me.  I pay quickly, stuff the box into my bag and scurry away hastily to the second floor where the Kiwis have wandered off to.  KiwiKat then explains to me that Tylenol is three syllables in English but four in Korean: my request should actually be Ty-he-le-nol.

Angel-in-us

After a brief, and rather feeble, attempt to distract KiwiKat in Lotte mart while NZ1 and NZ2 find party paraphernalia for tonight, we head to Angel-in-us where we are meeting two other foreigners whom I haven’t seen since NZ2’s 40^th birthday party in early October.  They teach at a hagwon so they’ll only be meeting us after 21:00 which is when we arrive at the coffee shop.  By the time they arrive, we’re all in good spirits and joking around before pulling out party hats and gifts for KiwiKat who’s birthday is actually 1 March.  The party hats turn into a competition of who can wear theirs the longest – naturally KiwiKat wins – and we find ourselves leaving only when Angel-in-us closes for the night; it’s been a surprisingly good evening even though I have yet to pack for my AK trip.

Surprise! (21 January)

Today is the last day of the conversation classes.  As of Monday, we officially have no work to do at school – at least, in theory we have no work to do but I still have to mark the final journal entries the freshmen wrote a week ago at the end of winter camp.  Since today is the last lesson, we’ve decided to use the Korean competitive spirit to our advantage and will be grouping students randomly to demonstrate the various speaking exercises they’ve been practising over the past two weeks.  We’ve also brought appropriate prizes: Candy! 

The lesson is very successful and the students really get involved in the discussion with great comical effect. One student in particular, a boy, is highly entertaining and very good natured when the conversation turns towards his three wives, four girlfriends and whether or not he’s gay.  The lesson passes far too quickly and we’re soon left with nothing to do for the remainder of the day but count the hours and eventually minutes until the end of the day when NZ2 and I are meeting Catfish and two other kiwis at Angel-in-us where we’ll then go to dinner.

NZ2 has organised tonight’s social event but clearly doesn’t travel often from Soryong-dong to Naun-dong at 17:00 on a weekday.  In theory, the trip should only take about 10 minutes but we have to factor in traffic which makes the trip completely unpredictable.  Incredibly, we manage to find taxi within seconds of leaving school and we’re soon on our way to Lotte mart since we don’t know what to tell a taxi driver in order to get to Angel-in-us.  When we arrive at Lotte mart, NZ2 seems determined to make it to the coffee shop by 17:30 exactly despite my reassurances that everyone will understand if we’re a few minutes late – after all, we’re the only ones who live on the opposite side of town while they’re all within reasonable walking distance of the venue. 

Be Careful Who You Talk About

Somehow we manage to make it to Angel-in-us by 17:30 where Catfish, our Kiwi-mom and her husband are already waiting.  I introduce NZ2 to the other New Zealanders and excuse myself to use the restroom. When I return, NZ2 is recounting the story of how Mr Jeong and some of the other teachers at our school thought that he and I should get together.  I then add my two cents’ worth including the fact that I spoke to my co-teacher about this very matter after lunch today at school.  She assures me that she knows that NZ2 are only friends and that only people over 40 years of age might find it difficult to understand that men and women of marriageable age can be just friends.  In other words – I only need to worry about what three-quarters of the teachers at school think instead of all of them!

I’m just finishing sharing this story when I feel a hand on my arm and hear someone say, “I’m sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to say hello to Sarah.” As I turn to the speaker, I can feel surprise take control as I realise it’s my co-teacher – about whom I’ve just been speaking – and I’m confused; my brain starts working overtime as it tries to work out why my co-teacher is in this coffee shop.  I introduce her to my friends and then look around for her husband or family to say hello since I assume that she must be having coffee with one of them or a friend.  As I look around, however, part of my brain registers that they all live in Jeonju (including my co-teacher) so they wouldn’t be meeting at Angel-in-us in Gunsan; in addition, I said goodbye to her an hour ago when she helped me with the timer on the heating system in my apartment before telling me that she was going home. 

Catfish recently told me that I think very quickly and that the emotions attached to my thoughts often flash across my face in succession before I even say a word.  It seems my brain processes information very quickly and I struggle to keep my thoughts hidden while my brain does this processing.  If this is so, I can only imagine the expressions that flash across my face as my very confused brain tries its best to process what, exactly, is happening. 

I Can't Figure This Out...

After a futile attempt to see where my co-teacher is sitting in the coffee shop, I glance back at my friends who have suddenly all started taking out gifts and placing them on the table in front of me.  I look back and forth between my co-teacher and my friends, none of whom seem surprised to see each other.  It’s only when my Kiwi-mom invites my co-teacher to sit down and NZ2 tells her that her timing was perfect as he pulls out his camera that I finally realise tonight’s dinner has been turned into a surprise birthday party for me.  Ironically, Catfish and I had been planning to organise a surprise birthday party for our Kiwi-mom whose birthday is on Monday (three days before mine) but we haven’t been successful; to discover that tonight’s dinner was turned into a surprise party for me was something truly unexpected and a very special gesture. 

My co-teacher can only stay a few minutes but her taking the time just to stop by Angel-in-us – particularly since she lives in Jeonju – means more to me than she’ll probably ever realise!  Catfish later tells me that when NZ2 asked if she had any suggestions as to what to get me as a birthday present, she suggested inviting Six-pack to tonight’s dinner.  Since he would’ve been the only non-English speaker – and therefore an unrealistic birthday present – she suggested NZ2 invite my co-teacher to join us.  For the record, having my co-teacher join us for 10 minutes is far better than having Six-pack attend! Besides, the cute doctor is on my birthday wishlist this year…

From there, we decide on the Pasta Steakhouse next door for dinner.  The food’s not too bad but the company is fantastic.  We order steak and wine and conversation flows easily as we catch up on news with each other after the Christmas and New Year vacation periods.  So well-organised is this party that my friends have even bought me a birthday cake with a candle which they now take out and sing “happy Birthday” to me. 

After dinner, Catfish, NZ2, another South African and I head back to Angel-in-us coffee shop where we end up chatting for several hours.  The other South African invites another friend of hers – a Brit – to join us. He’s just renewed his contract for another year but will now be teaching at two schools instead of one.  He’s soon regaling us with hilarity of the possibility that one of his schools might just be on Seonyudo where there are currently no foreign teachers.  We can’t help but make joking suggestions of how he’ll have nearly three hours of travelling each day if he works on Seonyudo which is the islands closest to Gunsan.  We tell him to ask for a speedboat and talk about how living on Seonyudo would make Gunsan seem as exciting and as much of an adventure as Seoul and other larger cities currently are for us.  It’ll be interesting to see what happens with this particular situation….

How Cold is it in Gunsan? (17 Janaury)

A Gunsan friend posted on her Facebook status update yesterday that the temperature was - 12  celsius – perfect weather for staying indoors, and preferably bed, with a good book.  I agreed with this plan and started my day from the comfort of my warm apartment just chatting to a friend via Skype until Catfish texted.  We were being rather sloth-like and hadn’t yet got around to having breakfast; it was now lunchtime and we were both in the mood for a proper, hot meal that we didn’t have to make.  This led to lunch at an Italian restaurant near Lotte Mart which then led to a sneaky grocery shopping trip at Lotte mart to encourage Catfish to actually buy food since she otherwise avoids the department store since it’s just too overwhelming.  Before we knew it, we were having white hot chocolate at a new coffee shop and talking about where to go for dinner. Time seems to sprint forwards when we hang out with each other. 

Today isn’t much warmer and several friends have status updates related to the cold.  Mr Jeong was telling me this morning that last night’s news had a clip showing tourists in Seoul who were so cold that they had attempted to cover every part of their bodies with thick clothing but were still cold.  Catfish tells me that Seoul was so cold on Saturday that she and another friend of ours literally sat in a bar drinking for six hours in order to warm up enough to go to the show for which they had booked tickets.  My Seoul friends tell me that it’s so cold that if they leave their apartments with wet hair after a shower, it freezes by the time they get to school, when they exhale, their breathe freezes against the inside of their scarves and tears turn to icicles on their eyelashes.  The list goes on and on….

As for Gunsan, it’s apparently  - 10 celsius here today so it’s warmer than yesterday.  However, it’s so cold that the water in the toilet bowls at school is frozen solid! As long as this doesn’t happen at home, I’m happy….

Compliments, Competitions and Comic Attempts (22 December)

I’ve been asked to judge a speech competition hosted by the Gunsan Municipal Offices.  I have no details of the actual competition apart from a date, time and the fact that one of the third grade (Korean) English teachers at my school will also be judging this competition this afternoon.  With this in mind, I dress smartly in a black dress, heels and suit jacket in order to look as professional as possible. 

Compliments

My morning classes pass fairly slowly since the students are currently using the lessons to prepare for the upcoming school festival.  While Mr Jeong and NZ1 talk about an interesting article in the latest issue of Time magazine, I attempt to mark student journals while actually watching the students practise.  The conversation is still taking place as we all walk back to the main building from the English Lab.  I notice a student in front of me is limping slightly but I don’t recall seeing anyone being injured during the lesson.  She struggles to tell me what happened so turns to Mr Jeong to ask for a translation: She has a blister on her foot which she proudly repeats to me after Mr Jeong translates the word.  I respond with “And in Korean, it’s called…?” which leads to a short, impromptu pronunciation lesson in a very cold corridor. 

Mr Jeong then explains the logic behind this new vocabulary I’ve only just acquired and we then start talking about another word that he taught me two weeks as well as acquiring vocabulary in general.  It’s in the middle of this conversation that one of the older Korean teachers at my school approaches us.  He greets us all, we greet him and then he turns his attention to me, looks me up and down and manages to communicate today’s English statement to me: “Sarah, your figure looks very nice today. It makes me so happy. Thank you.” These two sentences probably only take him about two or three minutes to say but I’m embarrassed beyond belief.  Mr Jeong and NZ1 seem to just be staring at the ground, smiling, uncertain of where to look while I attempt to hide my embarrassment.  This particular teacher regularly talks to me in his rather limited English but everything he says is always a compliment of some sort: It’s flattering, good for my ego and sometimes, like now, rather embarrassing, but I know he means well so it’s easily forgiven.  Mr Jeong then proceeds to tell me how admirable and impressive it is that I’m trying to learn Korean and I once again find the colour in my cheeks increasing with embarrassment so I excuse myself with empty protests of work to finish before the speech competition.

Competitions

There are three teachers from my school who are involved in the competition which apparently involves English, Japanese and Chinese.  When we arrive at the public library, we’re soon given the pertinent information necessary to judge the contestants – and it’s all in Korean so Erin has to translate the questions and notes for us.  Before we know it, the mayor is welcoming us all and introducing all of the judges for the three languages, saying other things myself and the Canadian judge don’t understand and then we’re being divided into our different sections.  We have 13 contestants for the English part although several of them don’t actually arrive for the competition.  It’s more of a speaking competition than a speech contest and within 90 minutes, we’re finished, 100 000 won richer for an easy afternoon, and still finishing our working day early. 

Comic Attempts

I head back to Gunsan to put down my school things before going to Paris Baguette where I’m going to attempt to order 75 sweet potato pastries for the staff at my school and hopefully be able to have them delivered on Christmas Eve which is the last school day of the semester.  One of my students has already translated my request into Hangeul and I’ve been practising my pronunciation all day.  Unfortunately, I still need to read most of the writing but I’m fairly confident about the speaking part.

When I arrive at the bakery, I quickly buy the few items I need and head to the counter where I manage to indicate that I need something else.  All three of the staff are standing at the counter and they look amused when I start reading my request, in Korean, which quickly distracts me and my self-confidence goes into sudden hibernation.  I reluctantly hand over the page on which everything is written and they confirm that there won’t be a problem with my request.  It’s only when they ask where in my school to deliver the order that I realise I’ve neglected one of the most crucial pieces of information.  As I walk home, I send several fervent and silent prayers that the essential information has been understood but I’ll just have to wait until Friday to find out.

Carefree in the Snow (8 December)

Day two of the final exams starts of slowly.  I have to invigilate two exams today and will be free from 11:00am to concentrate on the journal comments that need more urgent attention.  The first exam seems to pass without much excitement so I’m not really paying attention to anything when I leave the classroom.  I need to ask my co-teacher about something so when I see that she’s in the classroom next door to mine, I wait for her to finish counting the papers and leave the classroom.  As she exits, she grabs my hand turns me around to face the outside window where I see that it has started snowing.  Everything else forgotten, I excuse myself in my excitement of the first snow in Gunsan for this season.  My colleagues have been telling me for weeks that it’s going to snow that I’d almost stopped believing them.

Let it Snow

I fly down the stairs, pausing just long enough to bow and greet all of the teachers I pass in my haste to get outside.  As I skid in my sudden attempt to change direction at the front door, I hear several people laughing at me as I narrowly avoid landing head over heels before charging down the final path to the snow.  The snow is beautiful! It’s soft and fluffy, each snowflake is large yet gentle and it lightly kisses my eager, upturned face as I stand in the parking lot with my arms stretched and staring at the snow in wonder.

This is not the first time I’ve snow – in fact, when I was an exchange student in France I saw a lot of snow – but this is the first time I’m seeing snow fall and I feel like I’ve entered a movie set.  It’s incredible how quickly the snow collects on the ground and I have a sudden urge to make a snowball.  Considering that I ran out of the building without my jacket and gloves, I have to fetch these before playing in the snow.  As I enter my teachers’ room, I’m greeted with amused laughs and surprise as my colleagues take in my snowy appearance – snowflakes still decorate my hair and hug my clothes and eyelashes.  I grab my gloves thinking I’ll cope without my jacket since I only have a few minutes anyway and then I remember that my camera is still in my handbag so I sprint back to my desk to grab it before I’m once again out the door must to the amusement of several other teachers.

Playing in the Snow

So contagious is my enthusiasm for the snow, however, that while I take random photos of the snow around school, several teachers have put on their coats and gloves and are joining me outside in the snow.  When the bell rings for the next exam to begin, I return to my desk long enough to put down my camera and gloves and tell Mr Jeong (who is still laughing at me) that I’ll be standing next to a window for the duration of the next exam.  Fortunately, I’m invigilating an exam with my co-teacher who allows me to stand beside the window and watch the snow outside – she loves the snow as much as I do.  I’m so engrossed in the snow that I’m not really paying attention to what is happening in the classroom.  When I hear the door open, I automatically turn to greet who ever has entered the room and blush profusely when I realise the teacher at the door is Six-pack.  He seems equally surprised to see me and I’m suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that the snow that had clung to me outside had now melted and turned my hair frizzy.  There's nothing that I can do about it at this point so I turn back to my gazing out of the window and studiously avoid his amused gaze on me.

The students finish their physical education paper ridiculously early so the next 30 minutes seem interminably.  I’m overjoyed when my co-teacher tells me that she’ll stay with the students for the rest of the period while I go and play in the snow.  Her only instructions are to take lots of photos which is exactly what I do.  I take photos from every possible vantage point in the school before heading outside.  Within an hour, the snow has melted and there’s no sign of it ever having snowed at all except in my happy expression.

Amusing and Confusing My Colleagues

Much to the continued amusement of my colleagues, I remain enthralled with the snow for the remainder of the day.  I shock them further when I ask Mr Jeong to teach me the Korean word for snow and the expression “It’s snowing!”.  His initial response: “Why do you want to know that?” I feel like a naughty kid for playing in the snow and then asking him to teach me the appropriate Korean expression but he nonetheless complies.  It’s then that I realise how carefully the other teachers in my teachers’ room are listening to the conversation and that I’ve just completely upset their view of me (and foreigners) – I’m not supposed to be interested in Korean language it seems….

Snow makes everything beautiful and it’s difficult to be unhappy when it’s snowing.  Perhaps the snow has made me look very relaxed and happy which is what I hear later in the day. As I walk past one of my second grade students, he comments that he envies me because I look so carefree while he and his peers are sweating it away in self-study sessions preparing for the next day’s exams.  The school passes quickly and I now find myself looking for a way to pass the time until 21:30 when Catfish and I are meeting another Canadian at a new Western bar.  Since neither Catfish nor I know where The Rok is, we agree to meet each other at Ediya Coffee for a chat and moral support.  We’ve been invited to a ladies’ night with several of the other foreign teachers who we have not yet met.

Coffee Encounters and The Rok

When I arrive at Ediya Coffee, I realise that the next hour is probably going to be a ‘token foreigner’ moment.  There is a group of Korean guys sitting at the corner table and two Korean guys behind the counter which means that not only are we the only women in the coffee shop but we’re also foreign – something they’re very much aware of too it seems.  As we try to order something to drink, we’re aware of the heckling that this crowd seems to be doing – everything we say is followed by seemingly suggestive comments and the guy behind the counter is not looking comfortable at the moment.  Catfish and I talk about the snow while we wait and, when she struggles to remember the Korean word that she learned today, she decides to play on the foreigner card and bounces over to the table of guys to ask them.  Whether they’re amused or surprised by this, I don’t know but, by the time we leave Ediya Coffee, they bid us farewell.

The new Canadian is very bubbly and lots of fun.  She drives Catfish and I to The Rok which is completely empty apart from the foreigners we’re meeting tonight.  It’s an interesting mix of people and a lot of fun but 21:30 is a bit late to be starting a night out during the school week so by 23:30, we’re ready to call it a night with promises to get together again soon.

New Clothes, New ER, New Embarrassing Experiences (4 December)

Becoming Properly Acquainted With Catfish

Catfish and I meet at the Gunsan Express Bus Terminal at 8:40 this morning.  We’ve decided that the 9am bus is a good start to the day and I think we’re both a little apprehensive about what the day may hold.  Boarding the bus, we’re seated right at the back where the cool kids usually sit in high school.  Our conversation is somewhat hesitant and we both try to figure out the other person.  Our Kiwi-mom had mentioned that we have music in common so this seems like a safe enough topic before long. 

Surprisingly, conversation gets easier and we’re at the rest-stop before we know it where Catfish introduces me to Khuhultteok – Korean style mini-pancakes with brown sugar in the middle.  The final stretch to Seoul seems quicker than ever and a new friendship is seeming rather likely.  I’m somewhat taken aback when she mentions my blog… I’d been wondering who my South Korea audience is so when Catfish refers to a particular blog post about being formally introduced to a gorgeous Brit, I know exactly where this conversation is headed and I’m reminded of my initial hesitance in spending time with her: The gorgeous Brit clearly liked her and not me! It’s enough reason not to be friends with someone in girl-world but Catfish has other redeeming qualities so I’m prepared to give her a second chance.

Arriving in Seoul, we bounce off the bus, eager to get to Myeong-dong for shopping.  Catfish has been here with the other South African so she takes the lead.  She confided on the bus that she’d told her mom in a previous conversation that she hopes I manage to find some clothes in Myeong-dong because she really hoped we could be friends; if I wasn’t successful, I may equate Catfish with unsuccessful shopping trips.  Assuring her that this won’t happen, we head straight for Forever 21.  I’m not familiar with this particular store since it hasn’t reached South Africa but I do know that it is a popular store in the US.  I’ve also done my homework and have seen that it usually caters to very small sizes so I’m not particularly hopeful about finding anything here. 

New Clothes

There are some fantastic clothes and it takes us nearly two hours to pour over the selection – actually, it takes Catfish about two hours to try on a variety of clothes and me about an hour to discover that there are a total of three things (other than shoes and accessories) that actually fit me in the entire store.  There’s no stronger motivation to lose weight than attempting to shop for clothes in Korea!  By the time we’ve paid for our purchases and sprinted through another store (Uniqlo), we realise that it’s nearly mid-afternoon and we’re starving.  I’m in the mood for pizza so Catfish stops a passerby and asks for directions to the nearest pizza place which happens to be Mr Pizza.

Seated at a table, we attempt to work out the menu.  I’ve only been to Mr Pizza once so I’m happy to let Catfish recommend several pizzas.  We try to order a lunch time special but we’re too late so we settle on the Shrimp King pizza with sweet potato crust.  In the interim, our “two Cokes juseyo” (with the corresponding number of fingers) results in one glass of Coke with two straws arriving at our table.  We’re amused by the misunderstanding and successfully manage to order a second Coke.  When our pizza arrives, we attack it like we haven’t eaten in days.  Delicious!



Ummm...we asked for two Cokes not one with two straws.



Our final destination for the day is Itaewon where Catfish is hoping to find a Korean soccer jersey as a gift for her soccer-loving brother back in Indiana.  While on the subway to Itaewon station, Catfish asks if I’m feeling alright since I’m looking a bit flushed.  My face is tingling a little bit and I feel a bit nauseous but I’m probably just tired.  We decide to get off the subway at Noksapyeong station and walk towards Itaewon station since we’ll pass a number of stalls on the way.  I’m feeling rather self-conscious about not being able to keep up with the pace at which Catfish is walking so I assume that I must be having an asthma attack.  While I concentrate on deep breathing, Catfish finds her soccer jersey and we’re soon entering Itaewon station to head back to the bus terminal.  We stop briefly to take cheesy photos in front of the Christmas setup which results in us just missing the train. 



Cheesy Christmas photos in Itaewon station...


While we sit and wait, I take the opportunity to find my inhaler which brings no relief.  Ironically, the possibility of my being allergic to shrimp is raised and quickly refuted – I’ve eaten shrimp before and even had one on the flight to Seoul.  Of course, this pizza was laden with the largest shrimp I’ve ever seen but that’s beside the point.  This must be an asthma attack and one that is causing my face to tingle and redden.  I feel rather melodramatic suggesting I go to the nearest hospital so we continue to debate the possible reasons for my face being so flushed that my neck and torso are also now changing colour, a slight rash that is spreading across my body, tingling in my face and the swelling that shocks me in action when I finally take a close up photo of myself while thinking that breathing is now becoming a skill rather than a basic action.   Catfish suggests finding the nearest pharmacy and we’re once again heading out of the station.  While I concentrate on breathing, she sends several requests not to collapse: After spending around US$300 today, she’s not looking forward to having to abandon her purchases in order to help someone she still doesn’t really know.

New ER

I’m grateful to have Catfish take charge yet again and she does a fantastic job of communicating to everyone who can possibly help us that “friend…sick”.  The tourist information office tells us that there’s a pharmacy just around outside of the station so that’s where we head.  Like a true American (for which I’m very grateful), Catfish enters the pharmacy and announces I need help.  The pharmacist doesn’t look too concerned while he finishes helping another customer before handing me a box of Zyrtek.  I’ve had Zyrtek before but, when Catfish tells him that I’ve taken my asthma medication, he takes the table out of my hand and tells me to go to the nearest hospital.  Address in hand, Catfish hails a taxi and gets us to Soon Chun Hyung University Hospital which happens to be only two or three kilometres down the road. 



The staff at this ER are fantastic and speak pretty good English!



As we enter the ER, laden with packages of day’s purchases, Catfish once again successfully communicates “friend…sick” which prompts the nurse to ask: “Can you breathe?” All I can do at this point is shake my head while five doctors and nurses converge on me and get me onto a bed where they then proceed to attack me with the largest needles I have ever seen in my life.  They’re also kind enough to show these needles before attempting to dig them into my resistant and very shy veins which are retreating under the current attack.  As they dig the first needle into my hand, I can’t help but flinch which results in a reprimand not to move.  I’ve already had oxygen fitted across my nose but breathing still requires all of my efforts so I have limited responses available to me – other than a childlike shriek and hiding my arm – when they show me the enormous needle that they’re about to try to stick into another vein. 

Catfish is great and uses her ‘fierce teacher’ voice to pause the sudden flurry of action and ask the doctors and nurses to give me a moment.  I’m not exactly scare of needles – I just don’t like them (particularly after the last two years of regular blood test) and I cope better when I don’t see the needles at all.  I’m not sure if they’re scare of Catfish or just annoyed but they’ve paused long enough to realise that I’m not a fan of needles.  I feel like baby as the nurse cajoles me into giving her shaking arm once again when what I really want to communicate is that the veins in my right arm are always bad for needles whereas my left arm’s veins don’t manage to run away as quickly.  After another painful needle attack, I finally have enough control over my breathing to communicate this, blood is drawn and I’m soon connected to a drip with some weird combination of fluids that I neither know and probably couldn’t pronounce anyway.

During this dramatic sequence of events – that probably only took about 10 minutes – Catfish is tasked with filling in all of the forms for me.  She’s known me less than 24 hours but sure, why not.  Fortunately, I’m neurotic enough to carry most important documentation with me whenever I go further than just the other side of Gunsan so it’s pretty easy for her to find all of my information in my purse.  She’s also managed to communicate essential medical history to the doctors and nurses and phones her fantastic co-teacher to assist us in translating ‘shrimp’ since we’re both fairly certain that I’m allergic to our lunch.  It’s incredible that it’s been less than an hour since eating that delicious pizza!

Once the forms are filled in and the drip connected, it’s a waiting game.  The nurses tell us that I’m likely to be in the ER for at least six hours which means only being discharged at around midnight.  Realising that we’re probably not going to make it back to Gunsan tonight, we start working on a Plan B: Finding accommodation late at night in an area that we don’t really know is an interesting task.  Although we’ve spent a couple of days in Seoul, we’ve never had to sort out accommodation and we’re not entirely sure where anything is.  Fortunately, NZ2 comes through for us and starts sending out SOS text messages to his sister and friends in Seoul.  Within an hour, we have so many choices of possible places to stay and I can breathe normally once more so we settle into a fairly lively conversation in the otherwise empty ER.  The doctors and nurses understand enough English to probably get the gist of what we’re saying and we’re a little self-conscious of the fact that, at this point, we’re just hanging out in the ER, killing time while the doctors ‘observe’ me for any other reactions and Catfish and I ‘bond’. 

Informing me that I am now allergic to shrimp - which I've already figured out - I'm discharged at 22:00 so that we can try to make it back to Gunsan tonight.  We're in such a rush to get back to the bus terminal that we're already halfway up the hill to Itaewon station when I suddenly remember that I didn't collect my script from the hospital's pharmacy. Heading back to the hospital, we re-enter the ER and ask for directions to the pharmacy.  The nurse is so helpful that she tells us to leave our shopping bags on a chair next to her while we get my script.  With the script in hand, we thank the ER staff for being so helpful and kind and having done everything in English.  We're running out of time so we decide to take a taxi to the station which proves to be more difficult than we'd initially anticipated.

While we attempt to communicate our destination the driver, he takes us on a scenic night tour of sketchy Itaewon while asking Catfish if she's Russian - i.e. if she's a prostitute.  Catfish is blonde-haired, blue-eyed and gorgeous like many Russians and a lot of prostitutes are apparently Russian. Wondering where in Itaewon we are, we're relieved to spot the subway station directly ahead of us.  We rush out of the taxi and have just enough time to take a commemorative photo of the two of us on the platform before we're finally on the subway to the bus terminal.  Incredibly, we're going to make it just in time to catch the last bus home.



Catfish and me on the platform after my latest ER trip.

Bounding up the escalators at the bus terminal, Catfish heads to the ticket booth while I attempt to buy some snack for the bus since we don't have time for dinner.  The news is devastating: There's only one seat available on the last bus home so we're stuck in Seoul for the night.  Even if we manage to get a bus back to Jeonju or even Iksan, we're not sure if we'll be able to get back to Gunsan until tomorrow morning anyway.  Dismayed at our luck, we move onto Plan C since all of the places we have addresses for in Plan B are closer to Iatewon than the bus terminal.  The person at the Information desk tells us that there is a hotel on the top floor of the terminal; what he doesn't tell us is that it's the Marriott Hotel which costs around US$350 per night.  Killing two birds with one stone, Catfish phones the gorgeous Brit over whom we have bonded and he informs us that there are several Love Motels outside of the bus terminal which are cheap.  Neither of us has been to a Love Motel before so we're not even entirely sure what to look for but we're fairly certain that it'll be easy to spot one so we exit the terminal rather confidently.

New Embarrassing Experiences

Outside of the terminal, we can’t see any hotels so Catfish bravely asks a passerby for help.  Unfortunately, she chooses a man who doesn’t speak English but she speaks loudly enough to catch the attention of a couple who are also passing by.  The woman can speak English and offers a few suggestions including a jimjilbang which is the cheapest option.  It’s ironic that Catfish and I had been discussing jimjilbangs on the bus ride to Seoul – now she’s asking me if I’m okay with spending the night in a jimjilbang.  I’m so tired at this point that I agree and we’re soon giggling our way through deserted passageways leading back to the bus terminal in the general direction of the jimjilbang.  Every time we see someone, we ask them if we’re heading in the right direction for the jimjilbang. The reactions of those we are is generally surprise, amusement or an embarrassed laugh and here’s why…

Jimjilbangs are the Korean equivalent of the Japanese onsen.  Jimjilbangs are public bathhouses where Koreans go to soak in a bath (since most apartments only have sink showers) but you can also have what I’ve been told is a really thorough and great massage in these bathhouses – while butt-naked, I must add – and just generally hang out and relax or sleep here.  They offer cheap accommodation, lockers in which to store your belongings, provide pajamas and are convenient.  If you’re not comfortable with nudity, however, this is not the place to go.  I can’t believe we’re heading to a jimjilbang where taking the hot shower that I so desperately crave at this point means getting naked in front of several dozen strangers.  Considering I’m larger than the average Korean woman, I’m not looking forward to showing my cellulite and fat rolls next to their seemingly flawless bodies!

By the time we finally get to bed, we’re not yet exhausted enough to go to sleep immediately.  We’ve found two empty patches of ground in a passage way and laugh over the absurdity of the day’s events before drifting in an out of sleep.  We’re conscious of several Korean people pausing beside us as they walk down this particular passage and we’re fairly certain that there aren’t usually too many foreigners in this particular jimijilbang.  By 7:00am, I’m eager to leave so I wake Catfish and we manage to make it onto the 8:00am bus home where our friendship has been sealed over a crazy 12 hours between an ER and getting naked in front of several strangers….

Do You Know Where I Live? (26 November)

That's what I said...

My week always starts and ends with my favourite class.  They’re a very chatty group so it just makes the lesson so easy.  Today, they clearly feel like doing no work so we end up just chatting.  A student asks me if it’s true that I live in Solkkoji-village which is right next to the school; I thought they all knew that by now.  When they discover that I still can’t pronounce my address correctly after nearly two months, they take it upon themselves to teach me the proper pronunciation.  Of course, to my ear, I am saying it correctly but this doesn’t always seem to be the view of the Koreans. 

The 50 minutes pass far too quickly but it’s a great end to the day considering that my first lesson – my beloved second grade students who have very honestly told me that they prefer the previous waegook (the one who lasted only three weeks) – finally told me today, in their second last week of lessons with me, that I’ve been repeating work that the Korean teachers have already covered in the other English classes.  It’s not only me, however.  Both the Kiwis and I have been doing this since we’ve been working from the assigned textbook – we now understand why the second graders always look so bored in class!

By the end of the day, I’m eager to leave school and get ready for the Yeonggwan Girls’ High School Concert tonight at the Gunsan Cultural Centre.  The final bell is only minutes away from sounding when my co-teacher appears at my desk with a favour to ask of me.  I’m thrilled that she’s actually approaching me with tasks since I was really under the impression that she is not particularly fond of me.  It turns out, since stating that I actually enjoy editing and proofreading work, she needs me to proofread a doctoral thesis for a friend of hers.  He’s helped out the school with some or other program and has asked her to proofread the thesis for him but she’s finding it more difficult that expected (and her English is great) since the thesis is written in English.  I’m happy to do the editing – I just wish it could have been a week or two earlier when I hadn’t just been given 45 journals to review and provide detailed comments on.

A Cultural Experience of Note

Undeterred, I make my way to the apartment of the New Zealand couple with whom I’m attending the concert.  One of them used to teach at the high school that is hosting tonight’s performance and has told us that it’s quite an impressive show.  Impressive doesn’t even begin to cover it.

First of all, this school has a full orchestra.  Granted they’ve had to garner outside help – which explains the few male faces scattered in both the orchestra and on stage – but this is still an incredible orchestra.  In addition, these students are only performing in the orchestra so, what seems to be most of the remaining students, are all on stage singing in choirs, girl bands and traditional items too.  Second, the quality of the performances was outstanding and inspiring.  I attended a performing arts high school in South Africa and the standard of our orchestra was nowhere near that of the orchestra before me tonight – our orchestra wasn’t even as big as this one.  It’s yet another example of how, when Koreans commit to something, they always give 100%.  Third, considering the endurance test that constitutes high school in this country, it’s even more impressive that these kids have found the time to prepare an hour and a half show of this quality.  Apparently, they’ve been preparing for it for six months but they’re singing, dancing, and playing really complex pieces and then adding all of the technical aspects of which the Koreans are so fond too.

For example, the orchestra played a Shostakovich waltz in d minor.  This may not mean anything to many of you so to try and contextualise this briefly: Shostakovich is a modern composer; a waltz, as you probably already know, is a dance with a steady three count beat and can be played at various speeds.  In the animated movie, Anastasia, Anastasia heads to the Winter Palace in Moscow (or is it St. Petersburg) to find Dmitri.  While there, she sees a painting of herself as a child and her now deceased family and sings a song that naturally leads to her waltzing around the room with imaginary figures.  This is the waltz that this school orchestra plays. 

While they’re playing, the clip from the movie Anastasia is playing and the orchestra is accompanying the dancers on screen.  Since this clip is too short to fill the duration of the actual music, the clever computer people at the school blended it into a scene from a Korean movie that shows a couple waltzing.  What’s so impressive about this? Watching the clips carefully, I was overwhelmed to discover that the orchestra was playing in perfect time to the movement on the screens – it had been rehearsed so that it sounded like they were actually accompanying the dancers from these clips.  Anyone who has studied music can tell you that this is pretty impressive!

Wholehearted Commitment

Not to be outdone by the orchestra, there are a series of perfectly choreographed choral pieces, traditional Korean musical instruments including the breathtaking traditional percussion group, and the inevitable Korean pop dances.  Every move on stage is flawlessly executed and in sync; the students seem to move seamlessly from one movement to the next like a well-oiled machine.  I can’t help but admire the discipline of Korean students.  South African students could really take copious notes from Korean students where discipline and professionalism are concerned.

The instrument on the left is called a haeggum and has two
strings that are bowed.  The one next to it looks like a horizontal
harp and is also bowed. There was also a Korean flute and another
instrument that I don't recognise and can't identify.

Part of the traditional percussion group.

"Bad Girls" from Miss A's Good Girls, Bad Girls (K-pop)

Part of the finale.

The teachers and students share the stage - actions, song and all!

On top of several fantastic performances and glittering costume changes for every one of these performances, the final number is simultaneously mesmerizing, inspiring and just all-round incredible.  All of the Korean teachers joined the students on stage to sing several songs together.  Not only do these teachers sing wholeheartedly but they do all the silly actions too.  Watching this finale, I once again think of how grateful and fortunate I am to be teaching in South Korea – you’d never convince many teachers back home to do something like this which makes me a little sad to think of just how much enjoyment and relationship building SA teachers are missing out on….