Finally Off the Boat

So I spent the last ten days in an amazing padded room of cultural squishiness--plenty of english with a sprinkle of korean. Schedule, food, comfort. Easy peasy. And apparently a few didn't even make it past the orientation before freaking out. They haven't come close to culture shock. But the past week where EPIK eased us into this place has been amazing. So many different, like-minded adventures, converging in one point. And then, in less than a day, they spat us out all over South Korea (puked is more like it, after all the soju). Talk about epic.
Well, as our quickly established bonds are being tested and stretched, we rush to make every possible connection(thank you facebook) and lock down everyone's location for future floors to crash (and how warm and cozy they are here).

Even though I don't allow myself disappointment, I was, I admit, giving into some doubts about this city in the middle of the mountains (goodbye, hopes of coast) that was only being described to me as "oh, there are many factories" (goodbye, hopes of nature).
We said our goodbyes, crammed onto a crunchy bus ride until we all met again at a rest stop. We said more epic goodbyes and headed for Gumi (the city I was destined for). We drove through the city that was looming dirtier and busier than ever, then suddenly cut over a dam to a lake in the mountains, little swan boats smiling at me. Bam. I was relieved that this, at least would be outside the city from me.
We eat our last bit of bibimbap in a traditional little mountain restaurant (that for some reason has a giant Kint Tut on the outside of it; still not getting the significance) and then, goodbyes again, load back onto the buses. Drive about 10feet and stop in a parking lot full of very scared looking Koreans waiting for us, names on signs (some, like mine, spelled wrong, some even upside down). Now we have arrived.

As if to reinforce our week's lesson, (Korea is dynamic) it is chaos. Where is the truck with our luggage, where is our coteacher, where are we going? My coteacher, June, a short spunky Korean woman was standing with Hank, another Korean teacher, much taller, under an umbrella. They met me, pointed across the parking lot (mountains, trees, lake, still in view) and said, "there is your school." Hot damn I about hugged her till her eyes burst, but remembering all lessons of social customs, bowed slightly, gave my best kamsahamida (still not sure about the romanization) and went about the business of getting my luggage.
Well, also remembering all of the emphasis on the importantance of first impressions in our training, I was mortified when they drove me over, freshly crumpled from the bus ride and an epic night of soju, to meet the Vice Principal. It went alright, I guess. hope. I met the rest of the English department, including Cara (the girl I'm replacing) and Woody (my savior and guide).
These first few introductions have me more excited by the minute. The highschool I was dreading is apparently the best possible placement. I am teaching with Woody, an American who's been there a year already. It's a foreign language high school (described here as geniuses), and it is very relaxed (in dress code, too, woot woot!) I went to a traditional Korean meal with June, Maryanne and Woody in a shack on the floor. We laugh easy.
I'm in a small, cozy-with-character apartment. It is loaded with stuff leftover from Cara and teachers-past (including 4 hair driers; no idea what I'm supposed to do with those). There is a close-knit Waego (foreigner) presence I have already been introduced to.
Last night we made it to the Waego bar. I played the hammer game (going around driving nails in with the wrong side of the hammer) and came out on top--shots shots shots for South Korea. It's going to be good.

Trying my hand at Hangul

As of this week, I can successfully sound out most of the characters. Hangul handwriting is getting a bit better. I imagine my scrawl looks a bit like a three year old.
Speaking it is much more difficult, but I'm on my way pro-status. Counting 1-20, no problem. Hello and Thank You and Goodbye come out quite nicely. Coming over here, Annyong was the only Korean I knew, thank you very much Arrested Development. And when I get here I'm told that isn't even proper unless you are close with someone--and I'm told that it takes a lot to be close to someone. Seeing them everyday isn't enough to merit a simple Annyong. Annyong-ha-se-yo. The girl who works at the 711 has become my tutor for proper terms. She gets a kick out of it.
Korean is about syllables and mouthfuls of them. But I'm also told not to open your mouth too much or over enunciate. So we keep our mouths slightly closed, hiss through our teeth some jibberish and hope for the best.
I'm gonna be a rockstar at charades.

jeonju routine

Things that are certain here at Jeonju: Hallways are not heated, so stepping out of my room is just as cold as stepping outside. Toilet paper is on a roll outside the stalls. Kimchi and rice are a given with every meal. Coffee is instant. There is no cheese. Snacks are odd, but handed out by instructors at least twice a day. Bottled water for drinking. The lines for the elevators are ridiculous--so I stairs it 8 flights 8-10 times a day. My gluts are lookin good.

"korea is dynamic"

We've been at Jeonju almost 5 days now. What have I learned more than anything? The same lesson I realize I was being taught from the beginning of applying for this position: Korea is Dynamic. They love saying it. Also, Every situation is different(ESID for short). Hear, hear. It's all about going with the flow. We're never exactly sure what's going to happen, or even, if we're doing things right. Easiest thing to do? Follow. Enjoy.

Not knowing where or who we're going to be teaching means no point wasting time thinking past this week--except that all of us teachers-to-be have a week of not knowing and getting to know each other. Maybe just a moment. Ice broken. We (most of us, at least) have no phone, no way of knowing who will be in your group, how they will divide you and it changes so frequently that the only thing really sure is that you can talk to the person right next to you. Instant potential travel buddies down the line. Remember the face, look at the name tag if you can, otherwise, just talk. Connect. Go with it.

Classes everyday (even saturday) are hit or miss, but I'm finally getting excited about teaching. Finally getting an idea about what that means, even. They're all about their lesson plans, and even more about being able to adapt when something throws your plans out the window for you. It's not that they're trying to make it hard for you, we're told, just that the system isn't designed to be smooth. Just adaptable. And it all makes sense to everyone here, so if we get fussy about it we just look like idiots overreacting over nothing. So this is EPIK's role. Prepare us to understand Korean culture and how our job will work within it. We're being conditioned to not worry too much, be prepared for whatever, and go with the flow.

Understanding this helps me understand Confucianism so much better here. Submitting to strict roles and social hierarchies ensure that everyone is taking care of what they need to, so that in the end, everything runs smoothly (even though it doesn't seem to). Keep a steady balance, follow when you're supposed to, be proactive when you're supposed to. Most of all, be respectful and content in it. It's not my job to know where I'm going--it's the Provincial Office of Employment. It's my job to be learning and absorbing right now.

The idea of collectivism did not excite me; no sir, individuality the way to be. But really, the collective values of South Korean's Confucian structure resonate quite nicely with my notions of nonviolence and the importance of community. It's not about zapping away your personality or your sense of self--it's about putting that sense of self into a selfless spot (or my way of rationalizing). I know my role enough to know how I can affect others--not just immediately, but in all their connections as well. And because I am aware of that power within myself, it is my responsibility to make sure I don't spread anything negative. It's conflating the individual and the community; recognizing that they can never be separate in cause or effects. At least, this is what I've been chewing on.
Respecting these roles of authority--age, or my employer, etc, will make it run smoother for everyone involved. And if I allow myself to be a part of it, I know the chain of respect goes both ways. I will be looked out for. Selfishly Selfless. right?

More philosophical ranting than I intended. But on the flip side of the world, it's bound to happen. All this idea and experience and story and moment sharing is overloading me. So on to the soju, where we can loosen up and really get deep! It's where I see it the most, actually, even though it's mostly a bunch of us foreigners taking over a place the way we do best. But it's about the communal enjoyment--we've already adapted. They don't split the tab here. And they want everyone involved. Whether it's just us westerners or with help from Koreans who join in our fun, we're figuring it out. We watch, we follow, we do what makes us all feel good. together.

kimchi and macaroni salad: first tastes of south korea

So after too many hours of moving standing sitting waiting, here I am in South Korea.  Jeonju University, which is not in Seoul, as I thought, but in Jeonju.  Of course.  I seem to forget that the obvious could be true here, since so much is uncertain.  I am not the only EPIK teacher who doesn’t know my destination.  Turns out, of the 340 of us in this intake, a good chunk of us only know our province.  The big metropolitan cities are their own province, and everyone destined for Busan and Daegu are stoked.  I call Gyeongbuk our mystery province.  We have no clue—that’s one big blob on the map we could be scattered through.  Keepin my fingers crossed for the coast.  It’s funny how much of our interactions—we English speaking strangers—keep coming back to the anticipation of where we’re going.  Who cares about where we’ve been?  Even stranger is where we are now—this odd cultural limbo.  Unmistakably in Korea, but not completely out of the West.   

Processing all of this comes most obviously through food these first days.  At the airport I was overwhelmed at mini marts where plastic wrapped sushi and mystery sandwiches were right next to the obvious hard-boiled eggs and bananas.  Then there’s freeze-dried squid and sardines with little cartoons of the live versions glaring at you a bit.  I wouldn’t be happy to be sliced up and laid flat in plastic with all my innards showing for the perusing snacker either, I guess.  But also are completely unrecognizable items likes these little squishy pink or white balls (I later find out are rice filled with a bean curd paste, dessert).  And yet, even in a slightly altered form, there they are: starbucks, pepsi, kellogg.  Keeping to my principles, I avoid them, opting for a coffee from a small café and a small Korean version of Crustables with strawberry jelly and cream? in the middle.  Alright snack.  And at the truck stop I learn everything here is sweetened, even the garlic chips I bought—and later even the spaghetti we are served.  And definitely the coffee.

Coffee here is the worst adjustment all of us are complaining about—presweetened powder or cold in a can.  Instant.  No black gold here.

We get three buffets a day.  Guaranteed rice and kimchi (LOVE the tang of it), watery soups—broccoli, soy, etc.  Haven’t figured all the options yet.  Then some sort of curry style mix of veggies, and one with meat.  And, assuming to accommodate us and ease our stomachs into this mix, are macaroni salad (can’t lie was my fav), corn flakes, spaghetti.  Lots of fish, lots of ham, some green veggies, very little dairy. 

Last night we feasted.  It was AWESOME.  EPIK even made a cake and we sang for all the birthdays this week.  The spread was tables and tables long, and luckily they still gave us forks.  Rice, kimchi, stir-fry, gobs of things in so many colors (I hope to figure out), and tons and tons of seafood.  Beautiful.  And the most colorful dessert table ever: tiramisu meets cream puff tacos and cakes and spikey little lychee fruit.   And then in the middle chefs were fresh-frying crab, squid, veggies, soups.  It didn’t seem to end.  And it hasn’t really, because I am still full this morning, getting ready to begin our training.   

 

 

 Perhaps that meal was our first real step onto Korea, Korea’s first real step into us.  I’m looking forward to being more adventurous and trading in my fork for chopsticks (not as scary since they still use a spoon).