Orientation Ends, Real Life Begins...

It’s been one week exactly since I arrived in South Korea, and a lot has since happened. I’ve realized the drinking culture is everything they said it would be. People literally stay out all night long carrying around soju bottles or zip-lock bags filled with mixed drinks they buy from the street vendors. Seriously, quart-sized zip-lock bags filled with liquor on the subway, down the sidewalk, whatever.

Orientation started on Sunday, but I arrived to the National Institute of International Education (NIIED) on Saturday. I had met a few people already, and was still meeting more and more during the day. Eventually we all decided to wonder around Seoul for the afternoon. We ended up going to Itaewon (not spelt correctly) and check out the famous, ex-pat hotspot Hooker Hill. It’s not what it seems, there aren’t prostitutes lining a mountain side with drunk, old, white men scrounging for change at their feet. In fact it was nothing like that at all. It reminded me a little of what I think Time Square would look like—lots going on, advertisements on everything, and a lot of white people. There was a very westernized feel to it, and almost everyone spoke English. Long story short, we ended up at an Irish pub drinking doubles of Jameson on the rocks at four o’clock in the afternoon. Again, this was Saturday. I had just arrived one day earlier, and was still thirteen hours off of what my biological clock was trying to tell me. I ended up going home a few hours later, more drunk than I had intended on the first day with the orientation group. But, it was for the best because I passed out as soon as I got back to NIIED, and woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed for the mornings opening ceremony. On the other hand, some didn’t get in until after three in the morning, when curfew was midnight. This happened more or less every night of orientation—a few random people staying out much later than the curfew called for, and paying for it in the morning—soju being the culprit.

I have a love/hate relationship with soju. I love it because it’s cheap, tastes all right, and does the trick when one needs to take the edge off. I hate soju because it tricks me every time. I think: because it’s rather weak and cheap, and that Koreans drink it everyday, I can drink a lot of it. Then I do so and absolutely regret it in the morning. Because it is so cheap, it’s poorly made, and by morning time even the smallest amount can feel like you drank the bottle. I think I’m going to stick to beer while I’m here (but I am probably only thinking that because I’m hung over now).

Next day…

So, today was the first day of classes. I woke up at seven in the morning ready to go. I shaved, ironed my outfit, and grabbed a coffee on the way to work. My apartment is only a few ten-minute walk from my school. The children walk to school from all directions, and my pretty sure some live in the same apartment complex I do. Once they noticed that I was walking to their school, they all started gathering behind me in little groups. They would speak Korean and laugh and whisper and point at my back. I would turn around and smile, and they would all scream a little, smile, yell, “Hello!” and curl into each other laughing some more. It’s ridiculous. By the time I made it to school, there were about thirty students following me. It’s obvious to them that I’m the new teacher they’ve all been waiting for this last month.

The teacher before me was named Katrina. She was from Florida and stayed the entire year. I guess she was a really good teacher because they kind of expect a lot out of me already. I only just started at this school today, and already I am teaching. I had to give a presentation about myself in front of every class. I showed them pictures of my family, my college, and my hobbies. Then, I read the new vocabulary to the students, making them repeat the words back to me. I also ran games/activities. All of my classes are the same during any given day. Today I was with the sixth graders. They are thirteen years old in Korean age, and eleven or twelve in North American age.  In Korea they believe a person starts at year one the day they are born. They add another year when the Chinese New Year starts. Therefore, a baby born in December could be considered two years old roughly one month after they are born—weird, I know.

So, here’s my schedule for the next year: Monday I have five classes, Tuesday I have six classes, Wednesday I only have two classes. Thursday and Friday I have four classes. I forget which days are which classes, but I know I am teaching third through sixth grade.

All of my classes for today were in the morning, and I was lucky to go to the bank today after lunch. For the rest of the day, I am going to work on lesson planning with one of my two co-teachers. Later today, I am going to hang out with a few girls from orientation. It’s one of their birthdays and I’m excited to hang out for the weekend. Plus, I left my ukulele at orientation and she grabbed it for me—soju hangover, what else can I say. Until next time!

Eight Hundred Dollars and a Dream

I’ve finally arrived in South Korea. It’s three-thirty a.m. and I’ve just woken up from my jetlagged slumber to find myself in the basement of the airport. Although, the basement of this airport isn’t something creepy, like one could easily assume—It’s a spa. I arrived yesterday around four o’clock in the afternoon and found my way down here with my entire luggage. It wasn’t until I tried to check in to the spa that the realization that I am in Asia really took hold. They don’t speak English, and I don’t speak Korean. But the people so far have been really nice and helpful. I think it’s obvious sometimes that I’m lost, and people try to lend a helping hand when I’m walking in circles. So, twenty dollars and eight hours since I’ve landed, here I am writing to you, oh Internet world.

The jitters really didn’t hit me until almost 2 hours before my mother and I had to leave her house for the airport. I thought I would be anxious and nervous for the past week, but instead I just slept and ate as much good-old American food as I could. Once we were in the car, however, it really hit me hard and I was nervous. My flight left at six a.m. and the flight itinerary recommended arriving to the airport three hours early for international flights. So, we left New Hampshire at one a.m., just to make sure.

Mom was really helpful during the leaving process. She helped me pack, and made sure I had everything I needed. She even looked up the luggage rules online, making sure I wasn’t bringing too much. Once on the road, she stopped at an ATM to give me a little investment, making sure I would be able to eat all the rice and kimchi my little stomach could handle.  Love you, Mom.

After my mother took a few picture of my on the curb at the airport, I walked in expecting to go though all kinds of checkpoints where I’d have to fill out hours of paperwork and explain my reasons for living in Korea for the next year. On the contrary, there was nothing. I was one of three people in the airport, and the only one awake. Turns out the airport didn’t even open until four-thirty a.m. So I did what any twenty-three-year-old would do in that situation. I sat around watching Jackie Chans’ Kung-Fu classic, The Drunken Master until personnel arrived.

During international check-in I met another girl that was teaching English in Daegu. She was about my age, and graduated from the University of South Carolina. The difference between our situations was that she was going through a private school, and didn’t have orientation. I tried to talk to her about our journeys this year, breaking the ice a bit, and just passing the time. That only got me so far because, for one reason or another, she didn’t want to talk. I left it alone, chalking it up to the early hours of the day. Again, I saw her in San Francisco during our layover. We talked for a brief minute, and then she went to the bathroom, evading the conversation altogether and I never saw her again. What I got from her situation is that she and a friend (who flies in tomorrow) are doing this together at the private school. This girl didn’t seem very extroverted, and I think I may have annoyed her a little. But does that make sense? If she doesn’t want to talk to random people already—especially ones doing the same thing she is, in the same city she’s doing it in—what does she expect from this experience? I hope her and her friend don’t do what I think a lot of people do when they travel in groups in foreign lands—they create a bubble around themselves that keeps the outside world out, and the inside world in.

One of my best friends has been fortunate enough to travel a lot in his life (China, Africa, Europe), and that’s one thing he always stressed was the best angle a traveler can take—travel alone. I know, this can seem daunting, and even down right crazy to someone who’s never tried it. But the fact is one rarely is indeed alone. They are always meeting new people and going for small stints with fellow travelers or locals to other places. This works best when everyone leaves his or her homeland alone. Then, while out there in the wild world, we want to connect with others doing the same thing we are. Individuals look for this, when groups tend to confide amongst themselves, often missing great opportunity at new friendships and experiences. Now don’t get me wrong, it would be great to travel with a friend. But I think that it should be broken up into segments of time, where the party is split, rejoins, the splits again.

So, orientation starts tomorrow, and I’m really excited to get into the city. I’m not sure whether I’ll have Internet or not for the next few days, but I’ll try to keep a good memory of what happens so I can share it with you all. Cheers. 

Let's Get Going!

So, this is the first post of the first blog that I've ever written. As I sit and wait for my contract in South Korea to start, I find it hard to believe I've never written a blog, yet I call myself a writer. Sure, there are many writers out there that have also never blogged, but they still write for themselves. I--since graduation--have not written more than a few Thank You letters to family and friends for my graduation gifts--and even those I'm behind on. Although, just when my writing was at an all-time low, the experience I have set in front of me may well be  just the spark I need to start writing again. FINALLY, I AM GOING TO TEACH ENGLISH FOR A YEAR IN SOUTH KOREA!!!

Now don't get me wrong, this isn't something I've been dreaming about my whole life. It's actually not even something I've been dreaming about since the start of college. I only recently  stumbled into this career path around one year ago when I volunteered at a hostel in Panama. But the lead-up to this specific job contract has been grueling, and I'm really happy this part of the experience is finished. Let me break it down.

I started applying in March, 2010. The deal was to find two reference letters from respected professors at my university who thought highly of me and my potential for teaching English. Then, I had to fill out a twelve page application that questioned for such details as to what elementary school/subjects I attended as a child. Seriously, it asked for subjects of study in elementary school. This was fair and well, except I've grown on up multiple military bases near and far, and they wanted to know about all of them. That's just the first absurdity in the depths of this job's application process. Then, after awhile, and I passed my two phone interviews, through a Canadian recruiting agency, then the Korean Ministry of Education, and both were a bit nerve wrecking.

That May I was told, "Congratulations, you passed, you got the job! More than likely you'll be in Gangwon. Get a criminal history check, graduate in June, then send us your packet. Contracts will be out next month."

Not quite. Apparently, I was one of many that were told the same thing, and it was a race to get packets turned in before the dreadful cut-off for the waiting-list. One thing led to another, my criminal history check was sent to my grandparents house, I was celebrating graduation, new-found employment, plus camp-counseling for a marine biology summer camp at UNCW. Yatta-yatta-yatta, I was informed about my position at the head of the waiting list in late July, potentially not leaving for Korea until November or December, 2010.

Ok, so at least I'm still in there, right? Life wasn't so bad. My Dad was taking me to Hawaii as a graduation present during the first week of August. While there, I got in touch with an old friend that is teaching in Thailand. She told me about this program they run, and thought I should apply with that company. The job, and Thailand in general, sounded really sweet, so I gave it a shot. I applied one day, had an interview the next, and was offered a spot in their program the very next day. Perfect.

Like a sign from God, though, Korea called me back the same day Thailand assured me a spot in their program. "Patrick, we just had a spot open up in Daejeon. Would you be willing to take it in late September?" After careful evaluation of both programs, Korea was by far the most financially beneficial. I had to take it. So, this whole time I'm thinking, researching, and basically getting pumped for Daejeon.

Surprise, another change of plans. Now, officially, I am stationed in Daegu, the forth largest city in South Korea. I don't understand what happened with Daejeon, and I'm not even going to ask. Daegu sounds great, I have my contract in hand, and I'm ready to go. Still, though, I am unaware of which school, and grade level(s) I will be teaching. At this point I don't care. I'm just ready to get there and start this adventure. Until then....