Let Me Entertain You (12 January)

If I’d only understood just how important food is in Korean culture, I would have made more of an effort to eat school lunches from the start instead of taking the easy way out and bringing foods that I recognise and eating lunch separately with the Kiwis.  I’m determined to try and eat lunch with the Korean teachers in an effort to get to know some of them better but the lunch options seem equally determined not to let this happen. 

Shellfish, I Loathe You 

On a shopping trip in Seoul at the beginning of December, I discovered the hard way that I’ve developed an allergy to shrimp.  We’re not quite sure if it’s only shrimp that I need to avoid but I’m not too keen to test the extent of my allergy so I’ve been advised to stay away from shellfish in general unless I particularly feel like visiting an ER.  Since cute doctor doesn’t work in the ER, I have no desire to visit an ER again anytime soon.  Unfortunately, Korean school lunches seem to favour shellfish – particularly since Gunsan is a coastal town so being served fish of some sort on a daily basis is to be expected.  This means that there are several days at school where all I can eat is rice and kimchi.

How Allergic Are You?

Several of the Korean teachers don’t seem to believe that someone can be allergic to a particular food so they probably think I’m just being a picky eater – especially since I usually only have half the quantity of food on my tray that most of them have on theirs.  The latest teacher to ask me why I don’t eat shellfish seems to understand very clearly – despite broken English – when I say: I eat seoo (shrimp) or chogae (shellfish), one hour and I can’t breath so I have to go to the ER! Her eyes widen as she seems to process my simplified explanation complete with actions of my choking myself and dying before she swiftly moves her shellfish far away from me and tells me “Don’t touch!”.

You May Eat Only What You Can Hold...With These Two Sticks

With the question of my allergy now apparently cleared up, the second question of why I take considerably less food than my Korean colleagues remains.  Yes, I eat less than they do but they’re still all so thin is my first answer and the foods that I can eat at lunch are all carbs.  Their response: Everyone knows Asian people are too skinny and we’re all built differently.  This is such a sweet response considering the horror stories I hear from several other GETs whose teachers seem to constantly be commenting about their weight – even when they’re a healthy size.  My second, and more honest, response is simple: Whatever I put on my plate, I have to eat…with chopsticks! Using those blasted metal sticks takes twice as long for me as it does for my Korean colleagues and since I can only eat what I manage to hold between this foreign torture device, I tend to take only a little food at a time.

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I have good and bad chopstick skill days.  The wooden chopsticks are generally easier for foreigners to use that the metal ones which take considerably more practise.  My colleagues seem to find it rather entertaining to watch me attempt to use the metal chopsticks at school.  I diligently attempt, repeatedly, to pick up small quantities of food no matter how awkward it may be and when all I really want to do is stab a chopstick through the food from hunger.  Picking up food is the easier part; keeping it between the chopsticks en route to my mouth requires more skill and this is what my colleagues find so amusing – I can’t seem to keep the blasted chopsticks balanced long enough to not drop the food before it gets to my mouth.  I smile graciously while thinking to myself Let’s give you a knife and fork with which to eat lunch and then see who’s laughing as I discreetly stab the food with both chopsticks so that I get to eat some lunch in this half hour.

Wagging Tongues (11 January)

The last thing I did before going to bed last night was check my emails and Facebook messages and I’m glad that I did or I would have walked into school this morning with no warning and no understanding of what could possibly be happening.  NZ2 has decided to propose to his Japanese girlfriend whom I met just after Christmas when she visited Korea.  He told us a week ago that he had decided to propose and we’re all thrilled by this news!  The teachers at our school, however, seem to have other ideas…

You Thought What?

NZ2 apparently asked Mr Jeong, one of my co-teachers, about how easy it was for NZ1 to bring his wife to Korea on a spousal visa.  When Mr Jeong asked him why he was asking, NZ2 told him about his prospective wife.  This apparently surprised Mr Jeong who then confessed that he and some of the other teachers had been talking and thought that NZ2 and I should get together as we get along well with one another.  The irony of this message is that, just last night, I’d been telling Catfish that several teachers at my school seemed to suspect that NZ2 and I were involved in more than just a working relationship for several understandable reasons.    

First, we do get along well. He reminds me of my older brother, is able to give good advice on things in Korea, and is just goofy most of the time so it’s fun to hang out with him.  Second, we’ve spent a lot of time together outside of school because we’ve signed up for the same Adventure Korea trips – there were always at least 30 other people with us on each of these trips but no one that the Korean teachers at my school will likely ever hear of.  Third, yes, our holiday time was over the same period but that’s because we both had friends visiting (ironically both from Japan) at Christmas time.  In addition, there are only three possible weeks in which to take our winter vacation so it’s inevitable that the time is going to overlap at some point.  I can understand that from an outsider’s view, it would seem that NZ2 and I are more than just friends but they do only see part of the picture and they’re trying to connect dots that aren’t there.

A Korean Approach

The entire situation is rather comical.  It’s such a Korean approach to be trying to play matchmaker since they all seem to try and get married by the age of 30.  I’ve heard so many people say that Koreans over the age of 30 are almost always dating to marry because there’s so much social pressure on them to get married.  It’s also natural for family and friends to help unmarried people to meet potential spouses in order to expedite their transition from the pathos of being single to being ‘happily married’ – Koreans don’t seem to cope well with being single probably because of their collectivist approach in general.  In Korean age (which is a year older than Western age), I’m already 30 and unmarried; NZ2 is 42 in Korean age and still unmarried so it’s understandable I suppose that our colleagues are approaching this from a Korean perspective while we’re approaching it from our Western perspective.  We love the cultural differences that don’t allow for two single foreigners of a certain age, and opposite sex, to be JUST friends!

Fortunately, NZ2’s message has given me enough warning to be able to identify the reason for today’s gossip – and believe me: that wheel is turning.  Good news travels fast – so fast, in fact, that I’ve barely made it through the front door of my school when I encounter the first curious looks and hushed conversations. 

You Spoke...in English!

I’m grateful for the distraction of my morning classes – particularly when Malicious Boy attempts to answer (correctly) several questions in English much to my surprise!  However, by the time I finish my lesson with 102, I’m exhausted by their incessant and bubbly conversations that never seem to end.  Hyunju makes a quick escape at the end of each lesson with 102 and I find myself increasingly remaining in the classroom just generally chatting with the students by the time the next teacher arrives for the next lesson.  I’m not sure who is more surprised to find me still in the classroom at the start of the next lesson: Me or the Korean teachers who seem flummoxed to find a foreign teacher just chatting with students who never seem to run out of things to say.

Unfortunately, I have no work to do this afternoon which leads me to wander around the school aimlessly looking for things to do.  Mr Jeong seems slightly uncomfortable to see me and somewhat taken aback when I ask if there’s anything with which I can help him since he’s having to take photos and video clips of the winter camp lessons.  He assures me that he has everything under control and that students are helping with the technical things with which he is not as successful – I wouldn’t be any use with that anyway.  He tells me to enjoy my freedom and watch a movie or something which I don’t quite feel comfortable doing at school since I feel that I should be working. However, this is exactly what I end up doing out of sheer boredom.

As I catch up on television programmes I’ve missed, I manage to forget about al the bustle happening around me and the gossip wheel that seems to be spinning frantically.  The sight of large snowflakes outside is magnificent and the first thought that comes to mind as I settle back comfortably to enjoy my movie is It’s like being in a giant snow globe! The only thing missing is a blanket and popcorn….

I Look Korean? (10 January)

After a weekend of procrastinating over my marking, I’m finally almost finished commenting on all of my students’ journals which need to be handed back today.  Fortunately, today should be a relatively stress-free day since my students will have the entire lesson to type up their best writing from last week’s lessons for the portfolio of writing to commemorate the ADEPT program.  I can’t help wondering how much the school spends on printing costs for things like this but it looks impressive and that’s probably more important than the cost.

Since the students only have to type one piece of writing, I’m anticipating a fairly easy three hours of class today.  It’s unusual for students here to constantly ask for help in a lesson so I’m very surprised when I realise that in two of my classes, I barely have a chance to register the start and end of each lesson as I keep moving from one student question to the next.  It makes the lessons go by far more quickly than usual and it’s genuine footage for Mr Jeong to film for the video clip he’s making for Friday’s closing ceremony.

I also have an opportunity to just chat with some of my students once they finish their work and I can’t help but laugh when I see one of them looking through photos (of me and the Kiwis) from our school festival which a senior student has posted on her webpage.  Another student makes me laugh even more when she shows me a picture of a Korean woman who is apparently a television star here – and then proceeds to tell me that, in her opinion, this is who I resemble in appearance.  I’ve been told increasingly often over the last few weeks that my mannerisms are very Korean but this is the first time I’ve been told that I look Korean! 

My Personal Challenge

My students seem to genuinely like me – except for the majority of 104 which is still a bit of a challenge.  I’ve also given considerable thought to Malicious Boy and realised that it would be so easy to request that I not have him as a student in the new year but the reality is that, at some point, I’m going to have to deal with him or a student like him – and I already have dealt with similar students in South Africa. 

I’m actually looking forward to the challenge of finding a way to win him over since I firmly believe that he’s actually quite intelligent and has simply had a negative experience with either English teachers or foreign English teachers in particular.  He’s also lived in China for the past two years so he may just be a little insecure.  Whatever the reason for his negativity towards my subject, I’ve spoken to other teacher friends and am determined to get him to participate positively in my lessons.

Conversing Waegook Style

The rest of the day passes fairly quickly and I’m soon meeting Catfish at our favourite Galbi restaurant where we can’t help noticing that we’re once again receiving more attention than most other customers.  It’s particularly entertaining when a mini-scuffle ensues between a male and female server who semi-tackle each other in their enthusiasm – the girl won and the guy stood only slightly to the side looking somewhat bashful as Catfish broke into uncontrollable giggles over the absurdity of the situation.  After dinner, we break with tradition only slightly by going to Angel-in-us (or AngeLInus as the Koreans call it) for coffee instead of Ediya Coffee. 

There, we continue with a typical ‘Western’ chat (ie lots of facial expressions and gestures) much to the amusement of the staff who seem to find us fascinating to watch – or maybe they were just wishing that we would leave.  However, we redeem ourselves by waving and greeting all of the kids who are in the coffee shop and playing with a toddler at the next table.  This is something that we do regularly but in Korea, it’s looked upon very favourably – Koreans like kids so if you show that you like kids, and the kids respond well to you (which, being foreign, most of them giggle and laugh just because we look and sound different), then it seems to be assumed that you’re a good person.

Lotte Mart and the Time Warp

Our final destination for the evening is Lotte mart where Catfish needs to purchase aluminium foil.  Culture shock is a strange little bugger that settles in very unusual and unexpected areas of our lives at random moments.  This is why some foreigners are literally scared to leave their apartments some weekends (I have had several weekends like this in my time in Korea) and grocery shopping and department stores can suddenly seem overwhelming and terrifying.  For Catfish, Lotte mart has become a sort of nemesis – she’s scared to go grocery shopping by herself but she needs aluminium foil for her winter camp lesson the next day so duty calls.

At the best of times, Lotte mart is a sensory overload: there are so many bright colours, neon arrows and singing promotional signs, in-store promoters who helpfully try to help you find the best deal (even when it’s clear that you don’t understand Korean and they don’t speak English), overpowering smells (Catfish can’t stand the fish section where you choose your live fish and I can’t stand the meat section – although you don’t choose meat from live animals behind the counter in this section!), repetitive jingles and more.  In addition, Lotte mart is a bit like being in a casino: It’s so brightly lit and there’s so much activity that you can easily lose three or four hours in this four-storey building without really accomplishing or buying much.  As a result, it’s not unusual to see foreigners shopping in pairs; in fact, it’s somewhat advisable to bring reinforcements on any shopping trip because two foreigners is more intimidating than just one.

Aruminium Poil

Our main mission tonight is to find aluminium foil for Catfish although I do also need to some grocery shopping while we’re here.  It doesn’t take us long to round up the few items we’re each looking for – except the elusive aluminium foil.  In American and South African stores, aluminium foil would be stocked in the general grocery section which is where we’re looking.  Recognising that this is the Western-logic-approach that is so frequently unsuccessful in Korea – and tiring of having fought our way through the late night shoppers and the same aisles one too many times – Catfish approaches a store employee and asks for hep.  The immediate response is the deer-caught-in-headlights/the waegook-is-talking-to-me look but we’re patient and Catfish smiles encouragingly while carefully enunciating what we’re looking for.  Still no luck.  Aluminium foil is not exactly something you can mime but Catfish tries still to no success.

I then decide to make one more circuit of the nearby aisles to see if I can find anything similar or possibly even aluminium foil itself while Catfish continues trying to explain it to this unfortunate victim since my mini-dictionary has failed me once more.  When I return, Catfish is speaking to someone on the phone which I presume is her co-teacher, Miss Kim.  It’s only when she hands the phone back to the employee that I realise that this woman has gone out of her way, using her personal phone, to find someone who speaks more English than her in an attempt to better assist us – such is the overwhelming kindness demonstrated by Koreans on a regular basis.  Her face lights up as she listens to the translation of aluminium foil via the person on the other end of the phone conversation and she quickly grabs Catfish’s hand and leads her to the escalator.  On the second floor, in the aisle next to the car section, is the kitchen storage section of Lotte mart: This is where we find aRuminium Poil (as it’s called in Korean)! Catfish has a far more descriptive, and detailed, account of this particular adventure in her blog which I can highly recommend.

'l/ vs /r/ and /f/ Challenges

Koreans struggle to distinguish between and /l/ and /r/ sound (the Korean character ㄹ is the same for both of these sounds and the sound is determined by the placement of the character in each syllable) and there is no /f/ sound in Korean.  We already know and understand this.  What we don’t know – and can’t understand – is that if this is true, what did this particular woman hear differently in Catfish’s pronunciation of “aLuminium Foil” and the Korean pronunciation of “aRuminium Poil”?  That is perhaps a mystery that will never be solved.

Seeking Refuge at Hotel Millar (7 January)

I don’t need to understand much Korean to know that my Japanese class (104) is not happy with me.  As I enter the classroom, the first thing I notice is that the seating arrangements have, as requested, been shuffled.  The students seem rather glum about this and it makes me wonder what else may have been said to them.  Something tells me they’ve been reprimanded more than I’d hoped and I can’t help feeling a little sorry for them – including Malicious Boy.

Truce!

They all make a genuine effort to participate in today’s lesson and to speak English and I get a little more insight into just how hard it actually is for them to speak in English.  I appreciate the effort and poke fun at myself in an attempt to show them that I also have a hard time communicating in a language that is not my mother tongue.  When Hyunju leaves the classroom unexpectedly, and only for a moment, I feign total distress with a helpless cry of “No, please come back!” which helps to lighten the mood.  When Hyunju returns, I pretend to be even more relieved than I actually am – or perhaps that was all genuine relief that she returned!

By the end of the first week, I’m exhausted.  It’s been an emotional and scholastic rollercoaster over the last four days and I’m eager to just relax this weekend.  However, by procrastinating over my marking, I’m also having to take home 45 journals to mark over the weekend – something that seems to really surprise my Korean colleagues.  The thought of staying late on a Friday afternoon just to finish my marking, however, is worse than the idea of taking it home with me. 

Hotel Millar

Tonight is my night off as Catfish and I have agreed to meet at our Kiwi-mom’s apartment.  They’ve been in New Zealand and Australia for the last two weeks and told us to make use of their apartment and oven (and hopefully take care of their plants) but our Christmas and New Year travels have kept us away from the apartment until now.  The fact that they’re due home tomorrow evening is irrelevant in our decision to hang out at their apartment tonight.  We’ve agreed that we’ll bake some chocolate chip cookies, cook some chicken and maybe watch a movie.

We arrive at their apartment to find little notes taped in strategic places providing instructions for certain appliances and telling us to make ourselves at home.  They’ve also set out extra blankets and towels for us in each of the two bedrooms which gives the apartment a hotel quality.  We find ourselves feeling slightly guilty that we haven’t made more use of the apartment and we claim the second bedroom as 'our' bedroom in this apartment.  Feeling hungry, we're in agreement than an 'easy' dinner is in order and we're in further agreement that that dinner should be pizza so we head downstairs to the local pizzeria that is located just outside of the apartment building - I wish I had a pizzeria just outside of my apartment building!

Our hunger sated, we attempt to cook the chicken wings that have been sitting in my freezer since I purchased the oven that I still don’t know how to work.  After 20 minutes, I still can’t understand why the oven isn’t hot and we realise I have yet to turn on the gas.  Once the chicken starts cooking, Catfish and I decide to mix up the chocolate chip cookie mix that she received from her family in the US – these are proper chocolate chip cookies.  We add the mix and butter only to discover that we should have microwaved the butter first.  No problem – simply stick everything into the microwave and then mix it all together.  Of course, microwaving the entire mixture causes the chocolate chips to melt too.  Although they were now chocolate cookies rather than chocolate chip cookies, they still looked and smelled delicious!

With our baking done, we decide on a movie to watch and attempt to navigate the intricacies of a television and DVD player that are set up in Korean.  In proper waegook style, we decide to simply keep pushing random buttons until we find the right one – we decide to give up and leave a short note apologising for any settings we may have changed when each button now seems to lead to a blank screen.  With not much else to do, we settle in for a long chat about a variety of topics near and dear to us.  Our conversation goes late into the night and we decide that we’re finally warm and comfortable and simply couldn’t be bothered to navigate our way home in the cold midnight hours.  A slumber party seems inevitable as we round up blankets and pillows from the room and settle ourselves in the living room. 

We awake the next morning to the sound of hammering and drilling that appears to be coming from the apartment below us.  It’s 8:30am on a Saturday morning and we can’t sleep in.  However, our rude awakening is balanced when we’re rewarded with the most spectacular view over Eunpa Park!  We decide to leave our own notes of thanks around the apartment and Catfish makes a “Happy New Year” sign for the front door.  After sharing a few funny YouTube videos, we decide we really want to go home since it’s already midday so we pack our things, bid adieu to Hotel Millar and make our way to our respective apartments.  It’s amazing how spending the night at someone else’s apartment can feel like a mini-vacation – if only I didn’t have to encounter so many students and teachers at the store next to my apartment as I exit the taxi clearly wearing the same clothes I wore to school the previous day; a fact that doesn’t seem to have slipped their attention.  I groan inwardly, smile and wave at them all in greeting and know that I’ll be spending the rest of the weekend hiding in my apartment in preparation for the speculation that I know is probably taking place right now….  Are the comings and goings of a foreign teacher really this interesting?

My Friends Are Bigger Than Yours (6 January)

Disliking a student is exhausting! It’s also disheartening and generally not a great experience.  Malicious Boy, as he’s now known, is my own personal challenge it seems and he seems to be approaching this task in true Korean spirit – by giving it 100% of his effort. 

While my other two classes seem to have warmed up to me over the course of the three lessons we’ve had so far, 104 is definitely not following this pattern.  I thought Korea was supposed to be homogenous?  I can tell the class to conform but that will probably only worsen the situation in the long run or I can try to win over the students one at a time.  Unfortunately, Malicious Boy seems to have had the same idea as me and has had a head-start implementing his strategy.  He’s started to win over the boys who sit around him.  Hyunju tries to appease the situation by telling the students that this is their English class and I am their English teacher so they need to direct their questions to me and speak English.  She’s extremely supportive and only speaks English herself during the lesson which helps to show the students that I have some authority in the classroom and the support of the Korean teacher.

You Missed the Point!

As the lesson progresses, I realise that Malicious Boy seems to have successfully converted the boy next to him to the ‘dark side’.  Unfortunately, I realise this when, during the exercise the class is doing in pairs, I ask them why they’re not discussing the work.  They respond that neither of them can speak English – in almost flawless English and with an almost flawless accent!  The lesson continues in this manner and I eventually decide to address the entire class on this matter: All I ask is that they try to speak English just as I try to speak Korean outside of the classroom.  Malicious Boy’s latest convert mutters something in Korean that makes the rest of the class laugh so I calmly respond, in Korean, that I don’t speak Korean very well and then ask them, in English, to please speak English.  Malicious Boy takes this opportunity to correct my Korean pronunciation much to the classes delight and the annoyance of Hyunju who is currently standing behind him with her head raised high and ready to wallop him.  I can’t help but laugh which eases some of the tension. 

Revenge is Sweet...

I then approach Hyunju to find out if she knows who the homeroom teacher is for this particular class.  She doesn’t but she quickly manipulates the class into giving her this information – in Korean.  As soon as she has the information, she turns to me from across the room and says, “Homeroom teacher is Mr Baek.  When you talk to him later like you normally do, you can discuss the behaviour problems in this class.”  With one ingenious comment, Hyunju silences the class and manages to convey that not only do I, a mere waegook, know their homeroom teacher but I seem to know him well enough that we chat, informally, regularly – which is actually true!  In addition, I clearly have the support of more than one Korean teacher at the school which is probably something that they’re not used to seeing with foreign teachers.  In all honesty, they’re probably also not used to foreign teachers who actually care enough to object to a negative attitude towards English.  Mercifully, the bell rings not long after that and I’m not sure who is more relieved that the lesson is over: Me or my students. 

I send Mr Baek a message after lunch, via our internal messenger system, asking if I can come and talk to him about 104 this afternoon.  He responds by coming down to my office to see me in person and I feel somewhat guilty when he opens with, “You have a problem with my class?” with a rather distraught look on his face.  I’m quick to reassure him that I don’t have a problem with the entire class and that I would simply like to ask if he could shuffle the class so that the boys and girls are mixed since the boys seem to be having a slightly negative influence on one another.  Fortunately, Hyunju walks into my office just at that moment and comes over to confirm, with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, that it is indeed just one boy – Malicious Boy.  Mr Baek promises me he’ll look into the situation and rushes off to his next lesson leaving me to wonder how, exactly, he’ll deal with the problem at hand.

Talk to Me…in English (3 – 5 January)

America has summer school programs for students while in South Africa (and only at some schools) we are encouraged to attend winter school programs in our final year of high school in areas where we feel we may need extra assistance.  In Korea, students seem to plan everything else around their school schedule and have a never-ending bout of summer and winter programs. 

You Thought What?

My understanding of the winter vacation was that the students would have nearly a two month vacation that they have more than earned, the new freshmen would have to attend a two week long ADEPT program that would help them to adjust to high school life and give them a lot of exposure to English to try and get them all more-or-less at the same level and, finally, that the school would be running on skeletal staff.  Imagine my surprise and confusion when I arrive at school on Monday morning, ready to tackle winter camp, only to discover that not only are most of the teachers back at school but so are most of the students – with a full self-study timetable to boot!

No Time For Ready and Steady - Just Teach

I know that we don’t have any lessons for the first day so it’s a bit of a surprise when, at 10:10am, my fantastic co-teacher (she really is great!) asks me to come upstairs so that she can discuss the conversation classes that we need to do.  More confused than ever, nothing can prepare me for the surprise notice that there are students waiting for us in two venues for conversation lessons that we haven’t had time to prepare.  Fortunately, I’m now much better at identifying moments such as this one as “Oh Korea…” moments and moving on with what needs to be done rather than dwelling on the limited notice.  Besides, aside from an hour of conversation classes, all that we have to do today is attend the welcoming ceremony for the freshmen in the auditorium where we’ll be introduced to the new students before continuing with our busy schedules whiling away the afternoon in the coldest weather we’ve yet had in Gunsan.

The second day of camp is far more productive since it involves actual lessons.  NZ2 and I had already agreed upon the class division in December so I have classes all morning leaving me with an afternoon free.  This also means that I won’t be able to take the conversation classes for the next two weeks so NZ2 will have to combine the two groups until then.  NZ2 and I each have a Spanish (102), Japanese (104) and Chinese (106) major class.  Experience with the previous year’s first graders predisposes me to the Spanish major classes as their English proficiency is generally higher and they’re usually more talkative; the Japanese and Chinese classes are generally evenly tied with one fairly strong group and one weaker group in each language major.  This group is no exception.

Getting Started

My first class is with the Chinese major students (106).  I enter the class with feigned confidence and hope that the lesson goes well.  In the midst of introducing myself, one of the Korean teachers walks in with the daily journals to hand out…and stays.  This is when I figure out, since she shows no sign of leaving, that I’ll have a Korean English Teacher with me in each lesson – something that adds a new dynamic to the lessons since I’ve never worked directly with Hyunju before.  It doesn’t long, however, before we’re both commenting on the very segregrated seating arrangements in which they’ve organised themselves: Boys on one side, girls on the other and the widest gap possible between the two sides!  As we leave the room, our first impression, and comment, is: They’re so young!

Confident for the next lesson – and now being more familiar with the structure of these lessons – I head for my Spanish major class (102) which is even more entertaining that my first class.  This particular class has only three boys and they’re well integrated by the look of things.  I can’t believe how talkative this class is and when I try to leave the classroom, they follow me down the corridor still chatting and asking questions – a pattern which seems to continue for the rest of the week and increases in enthusiasm the more time they spend with me.

I Understood That!

My final class is my Japanese class (104) and this is perhaps the most surprising – and seemingly hostile – of the three.  One of the boys looks like he’s hoping to be the seventh member of the K-pop group 2PM.  He seems uber-confident in many ways and is quick to lead other classmates astray.  His first words to me (in Korean I might add!): Speak Korean! It’s 10 minutes into this lesson and I officially have a student I don’t like and have dubbed “the malicious boy”…  In addition, this class seems to be as segregated as the Chinese students but they don’t share a similar sense of humour when we joke about this; in fact, they don’t seem to have much of a sense of humour at all. For the first time since arriving in Korea, I find myself in a situation where a co-teacher is literally translating every word I say in the lesson and it’s disheartening.  I leave the lesson wanting to cry and trying desperately to work out how to get through to this particular class.  The discrepancy between the three classes is unbelievable and it’s a bit like being on a rollercoaster: I have one amazing class that I can already tell I love (102), an average class that seems generally sweet and co-operative (106) and a class with one child who may just turn the next eight days of classes into my worst nightmare.

Breaking New 'Barriers'

It’s lunchtime and I’m starving.  I deliberately haven’t brought any lunch with me to school because I want to start having lunch with the rest of the Korean teachers so I ask Hyunju if I may join her for lunch.  Not only will this expose me to more Korean food than I currently eat, but I’m hoping that it will further endear me to them and, hopefully, lead to friendship with some of them instead of the ‘us’ and ‘them’ distinction that exists between the three GETs and the Korean teachers – that was forged, unintentionally, by the Kiwis and myself.  My appearance in the cafeteria doesn’t go unnoticed and I seem to have scored major brownie points with my fellow teachers by simply having lunch with them at school – if I’d only known what a difference this would make from the start….

Exploring the DMZ (2 January) – Part Two

After an eventful morning, we’re starving so we head to lunch at the Unification Village, Tongilchon, where Seokjin points out the noticeable lack of security on the buildings – like they need it since they live in a fort!  It’s an opportunity to reflect on what we’ve learned this morning and we realise that despite so many visible signs in the DMZ that promulgate peace and unification, there seem to still be so many insurmountable obstacles that hinder any true progress. 

 

As is increasingly common in Korea, lunch is an adventure where being blindfolded would probably be more successful in helping us to try many of the foods we don’t recognise before us.  There are two soups: Soybean paste and one with shrimp – soybean paste it is for me then since I’m allergic to shrimp (and we’re pretty far from any hospitals!).  The soybean paste doesn’t look very appetising, and it’s certainly and acquired taste – one that Catfish doesn’t seem to have acquired….

Imjingak

We finish lunch early and head outside for a brief look around.  KiwiKat and Patricia tell us (in very broken English) to walk in a particular direction, look and take a photo but to do it quickly.  This, naturally, leads me to ask if we have to do it quickly because we’re likely to be shot.  Unfortunately, we’re soon summoned to return to the bus so I don’t get to take my photo of what appears to be a truly spectacular view.  It’s 13:30 and we’re meant to have left this section of the DMZ. We’d learned about the ‘human trap’ this morning when UN soldiers used to live in the DMZ and we can’t help but wonder if we’re the current human trap and all the talk of military drills is just a ruse.  We don’t stick around long enough to find out and we’re soon heading across another bridge – where we do take photos although I’m pretty sure we’re not allowed to do so – and on to Imjingak which is something of a paradox. 

Built to pacify those who had to leave their homes in the North, Imjingak is as far North as civilians can go without permission to enter the actual DMZ.  It has an altar where families who are unable to cross the border can get together and pray for their ancestors at Seollal and Chuseok (The Korean Thanksgiving), a Peace Bell to symbolise the desire for peace and unification between the two Koreas, Freedom Bridge which is only partially free (it’s obviously barricaded for security reasons), and the discontinuted Gyeonggi train line with an old, rusted locomotive that clearly won’t be travelling anytime soon.  Along the fences, there are hundreds of thousands of ribbons with messages of peace and pro-unification.  The contrast of the colourful peace ribbons on the barbed wire is interesting and ironic: Interesting that Koreans have tried to beautify a very sombre sight and reinforce their desire for unification and ironic because they’re attaching beauty to a sight that is mostly being viewed by tourists and South Koreans as far as I can see. 

In case Imjingak doesn’t hold enough appeal from a historical and cultural perspective, there’s also a mini-amusement park to attract the interest of the younger generation.  Most Koreans don’t seem to visit the DMZ for various reasons.  However, it is an important part of the Korean history and culture.  The dilemma in how to interest and lure Korean children to Imjingak seems to have been resolved with the amusement park and sledding hill.  It also turns Imjingak into something of a paradox: On the one side there is the historical and cultural side of this location and on the other…a theme park.

Don't Pull Your Tongue at the North

When we arrive at Imjingak, we see a small group of people standing in front of one of the monuments releasing propaganda balloons – ie balloons with outside information about crazy Kim Jong-Il and what is not (presumably) being said in North Korea.  The sight of this group, with media coverage, angers Seokjin considerably as he does not agree with the approach that the current South Korean president has taken towards North Korean.  It’s the first time I’ve seen him visibly angered and it’s interesting considering Korean views of demonstrating anger (at least from the literature that I’ve read).  Patricia manages to get hold of the propaganda that was being sent in these balloons and she and ByungMin attempt to explain what the message is – something about Crazy Kim Jong-Il being dead?

After walking around the peace messages, putting little more than our big toes on the Freedom Bridge and glossing over the frustrated locomotive, we head to the Observation Deck where we can use binoculars to see North Korea – or rather we can see the snow on the mountains in North Korea that is visible without the binoculars!  A few buildings across the border can also be seen and I can’t help wondering if there’s an observation deck like this on the North Korean side with people staring back at us, just as curious, just as judgemental, almost identical except for the minor detail of probably being pro-North Korea instead of South.  On the Observation Deck, KiwiKat is posing more photos and tells Catfish to pretend to push ByungMin over the edge of the deck in front of the ‘Danger’ sign.  I’m not anti-American but I do find this photo somewhat metaphoric of America abusing it’s power and pushing other nations around like puppets in general (Sorry Catfish!)….

Unification Observatory

The final part of our trip is the Unification Observatory.  Usually, the AK trip makes use of the Dora Observatory but our entire trip schedule has been reversed today thanks to military exercises and parts of the DMZ being closed off to tourists.   Here, we watch another video and see a scaled reconstruction of this particular part of the DMZ that allows us to understand just how close North Korea actually is.  Clearly visible across the mostly frozen river are several propaganda villages – villages that seem to exist purely to show viewers on the South Korean side of the border that North Koreans are happy and settled in their lives (ie Back off, there are no problems here!).  Apparently the people who live in these villages are true supporters of Crazy Kim and can be trusted not to try and cross the border – of course, this doesn’t stop many people from trying!

This particular observatory also has a mini museum attached to it.  The first thing I see when I enter is a timeline detailing every event since the end of the Korean War.  It’s somewhat distressing to note that as I move further and further down the timeline, the entries become longer and more frequent and it’s likely that they will soon need another wall to continue this timeline long before unification is achieved which is surprisingly upsetting. 

The museum contains an interesting selection of paraphernalia from North Korea in every aspect of life: Military, education, daily living, currency, tourism, food, weapons, etc.  I am only just starting to understand why so many people explain that while South Korea may seem outdated in some areas, North Korea is like stepping back in time fifty or sixty years.  From what I see before me, North Korea doesn’t possess the same rich lushness that South Korea seems to have – probably because the average North Korean has no money.  Communism is great in theory but let’s be realistic: Cold, hard cash makes the world go around no matter how much we try to refute it or would like to deny it.  Forcing a nation to wear commemorative pins with your picture and that of the previous ruler, and making them display these photos in every house doesn’t make them loyal and obedient subjects – it just means people are compliant and resilient. 

The sight that truly disturbs me is the education and housing section.  These textbooks and supplies look like they haven’t been updated in nearly thirty years.  KiwiKat manages to read the dates on one of the books (1986) so we’re right in guessing that they haven’t been updated in nearly thirty years.  The skeptic in me, however, can't help but wonder if this is a true reflection of life in North Korea or propaganda from South Korea.  With such a turmultuous history, how do we know which account is accurate?  An overwhelming sense of sadness takes over as I realise that, despite our troubled past and numerous present problems, at least South Africans are exposed to international events and allowed to discover what happens in the world that exists beyond our own borders.

We move to the final section of the museum which has a replicated classroom and average North Korean home.  Seokjin explains the sign posted next to the replica of a North Korean apartment: homes are distributed according to position in North Korea.  This means that there is a scale which determines the ‘lavishness’ (if this word can even be applied to North Korea) of the home assigned to each family.  There are seven tiers in total: 15% of the population live in the top two tiers. 25% of the population live in the third and fourth highest tiers and a distressing 60% of the North Korean population live in apartments like this or worse.

By the time we leave the Unification Observatory, I find myself more curious than ever about the other half of Korea that I’m increasingly interested in exploring.  Adventure Korea once ran a trip to the North Korean city of Kaesong which NZ2 and KiwiKat were part of but, unfortunately, due to the political unrest between the two Koreas, such trips from the South are no longer possible.  Hopefully, one day, I’ll get to North Korea….