Aretha Franklin

At the end of every workday I try to bolt out of school as fast as I possibly can.  If I don’t have class last period I am packed up, desk locked, computer off, with outside shoes on by at least 4:37pm, then I just stare at the clock for three straight minutes. If I have a class last period then I pack everything up beforehand so all I have to do is put on my shoes and dart when the bell rings (like a triathlete coming out of the swimming pool).  Last Tuesday though I got held up for a few minutes due to the frenzy incited by ending class with a Taylor Swift video.  Consequently, there were a lot more students milling around the school than usual by the time I began my walk home.

I rounded the corner that leads under a nearby overpass, a place where students go to sneak cigarettes when they decide the school bathrooms aren’t secret enough, and noticed a throng of boys pulling cigs out of cartons like Pocky sticks.  I waved and said hello enthusiastically, preparing to chastise them.  But to my surprise the largest kid, a tall, muscular, suddenly somewhat intimidating 17 year-old split from the group to approach me.

“Hello! Hello! English teacha?” He said.

“Yyeeees, yes I am.” I felt apprehensive.  

We were now at conversational distance as he unbuttoned his right shirt sleeve and pulled it up to reveal a tattoo running down his forearm, written in English. It read, in a scripty-cursive kind of font: So I say a lillle prayer.”

“Oh wow! Cool,” I nodded, “Aretha Franklin?”  He stared blankly at me and then back at his forearm, as if he expected something more.  One of the other boys who had since gathered around us piped up.

“Teacha, teacha, what mean? What mean?” He asked excitedly.

“Uh…it means...I…” I pointed to myself, “say...” I made my hand talk, “a little…” I mimed something small using my thumb and pointer finger, “prayer.” I put my hands together and bowed my head as if in prayer, then pointed up to the sky and said “God.”  The boys looked at each other seriously and nodded their heads, but didn’t seem totally satisfied.  It was as if they had just learned something new, although I was fairly certain they didn’t comprehend what I had said.

“Is that what you wanted?” I asked, pointing to the tattoo.

They looked confused and repeated the word “want” a couple times until one of them decidedly answered, “Teacha, he want girl.”  Aaaaaaah, now I see.

They started to thank me and return to their illicit activities so I grabbed the boy’s arm, “Wait!” I said.  I pushed his shirt sleeve back up and pointed to the word “lillle.”  I tried to explain what was wrong by crossing the would-be t’s with my fingernail several times and repeating the “tuh” sound verses the “lllll” sound. One kid eventually said, “Ooooh, yes, T, T, ok, ok, ok.”  And I figured that was as far as I was going to get.

I continued, in bewilderment, on my walk home. So if you were thinking about getting some Chinese characters tatted any time soon, may this story encourage you to think twice.

XOXO from Korea,

A

FIRE drill

I was told that there would be a fire drill today at 1:10.  At 1:05, an alarm sounded off with a Korean voice giving us what I assume were directions on what to do.  My coworker and I walked out of the school (we took a longer route to the back entrance) to find a group of teachers outside talking.  I couldn't understand most of it obviously but I could decipher teachers yelling "FIRE!" with a raised, flapping hand and the insueing laughs from everyone else.  After a minute outside we returned to the lobby of the school because the drill didn't actaully start for a few more minutes aparantly. The fire jokes continued until finally one of the faculty pulled a fire alarm and everyone grabbed their nose, covering their mouth, and ran/pushed through the door we had just re-entered.  Some of them continued to yell "fire" as we escaped the building. This time, we went over to some big bleachers and stood while a man that I assume worked for the fire department placed this can on the ground that sprayed red smoke into the air.  Of course, we were downwind from the can, so the "fake fire" blew right into our faces and smelled TERRIBLE/i assume caused cancer or something.  Then we watched and applauded as some teachers used fire extuingushers on the can of smoke (which also eventually blew up to sourround the spectators) and another "put it out" with a fire hose. All the while someone took pictures of us standing around, as well as our saviors with the extinguishers and hose.  To conclude a fireman (again, I think...) spoke to us for a while and we went back inside. 

It is the last day of exams so the students did not have class this afternoon but there were some playing sports near where we practiced this drill. They also had no part in any of it.

I feel safer now?

B

Jinju Lantern Festival Pictures

Jinju Lantern Festival, a set on Flickr.

A Chew Sock Adventure

The weekend before last I had a 5 day break from work for a holiday called Chu Seok (pronounced “Chew Sock”), which is essentially the Korean equivalent of Thanksgiving.  While Ben and I were eager for a long series of days off and a chance to do some travelling, whenever I asked a Korean about the excitement of Chu Seok’s approach I received a nose-crinkle, a groan or a grimace in return.  I found, via this casual survey, that women tend to hate Chu Seok for its promise of thankless hours spent in the kitchen preparing opulent meals for disapproving in-laws.  The men, too, struggle to gain acknowledgment from their spouse’s parents by buying them $80 gift sets of SPAM or assorted rice cakes, only to receive spurning glances in return.

Silhouette of Yangsan Tower, look familiar?

Nevertheless, Ben and I were free of the demands of this Korean cultural “celebration”, and got to enjoy ourselves while exploring the area a bit.  We ate at the café in Yangsan Tower (basically the Space Needle but in our suburb), sunbathed on Busan’s famous Haeundae Beach (the Busan International Film Festival is currently being held there), and also hopped on a bus to Jinju for their annual lantern festival.  This was by far the most exciting foray of our weekend.  Jinju is a city about 2 hours east of Yangsan by car or bus.  We had heard it was easy to reach, so we just walked to the intercity bus station, sounded out the Hangul for “Jinju” and bought two tickets for the 3:15 PM train.  By the time the train arrived a long line had formed by the stop.  We assumed that when the bus arrived the passengers who came with it would get off and the new ones would file in, but instead, only about three passengers left the bus.  The rest of the line began to hurriedly push into the bus, hoping for the remaining seats.  We jockeyed for a good position but, like about 75% of the people in line, we ended up without seats.  Since the next bus wasn’t for an hour or so, we opted to stay on and stand in the aisle for the duration of the 2 hour trip, along with several fellow passengers.  Luckily we were able-bodied enough to do it; many older people who had waited in line decided to get off when they learned no seats were left.

Jinju Lantern Festival

We made it to Jinju in good time, and the trip was well worth it.  Koreans don’t skimp on ambiance.  We secured a room for the night at the Versace Motel, and then walked along the luminous waterfront trail, festooned with tents, flashing neon lights, musical fountains and hallways coated with lanterns of all shapes and sizes.  Along the river were several large bridges, themselves decorated with lights, suspended over a river dotted with trails and patterns of glowing lanterns. 

Crossing the river, festival-goers could buy fireworks—roman candles mostly—from street vendors and shoot them off the bridge.  The numerous tents featured plenty of street food for us to sample and enjoy, which we did indiscriminately, all for less than a total $20.  The waterfront also housed an ancient fortress (covered with lights, of course) stationed on a high cliff above the whole ordeal.  As we explored the fortress we stumbled upon—you guessed it—a Korean rap concert.  The evening was, altogether, quite magical.

We traveled home by bus the next day, this time with seats, to prepare for my return to school and Ben’s first day at work.  When I went back to Beomeo I asked my co-workers about their weekend. “How was your Chu Seok?” I would inquire.  More often than not the reply was something along the lines of, “Eh, so-so.  I don’t have to complain anymore.”  The lonely exception was one happy-go-lucky female co-teacher who seemed completely satisfied with her break—she had abandoned Chu Seok traditions and decided to take her twin 7 year olds to a nearby waterpark instead.

XOXO

A

A foot bridge across the river right by our apartment, it's lit up like this every night!

Finally Starting!

As some of you may know, I came out to South Korea a little early; Alyssa’s job began but mine had not. Well, this week I finally got to see my school and begin to meet my co-workers. Incidentally, midterm exams began on Wednesday which I have found out means the students are busy Monday/Tuesday and have half days during the exam period. So I have done little teaching but I am becoming more familiar with my surroundings and introducing myself to the students. I have to admit that even this part is pretty intimidating!

Today, I finally got to eat with Koreans! Aside from a quick meal after I was picked up at the airport, I have eaten a lot of Korean food but have not eaten with any Koreans! Today, that changed. After being told yesterday that some teachers were getting dinner today (I thought it sounded funny, but went with it), I discovered that after morning exams, a group of teachers, vice principal and principal were going out to lunch. I came along to get to know my coworkers better even if I couldn’t speak with most of them. It was quite an experience.

First thing I noticed, when we arrived at the restaurant was that the women allowed all of the men to enter the backroom and fill up the first 3 tables. Two women took the final spots at my table but when male teachers arrived late, the woman gave up their spots. Korean society seems to be very hierarchal but I obviously do not know the order or what trumps what. I have seen men serve women, bosses serve subordinates, young serve old. It is not something I really want to ask about, at least just yet, so I usually defer whenever offered something in case it would be disrespectful to sit/receive/do anything before someone else. They brought out Soju (Korean alcohol, stronger than wine, less so than hard A) and beer so that the principal and another teacher could make a toast. Then they brought out LOTS and LOTS of meat to accompany the salads and pickled vegetables that awaited us when we arrived. I do not know if Koreans eat an insane amount of food or they just have the benefit of knowing when something is the meal or a single course but I was told to eat way more than (most of you could J and) I should have. All of that to then choose whether I wanted rice or noodles next. The rice they usually serve is a small, manageable portion. The noodles, however, that everyone including myself ordered were a meal within themselves. A big metal bowl filled with ”spicy, sweet and sour noodles” in a cold broth with ice, cucumber and a hard boiled egg floating in it arrived in front of me. They ate this quickly as I tried to keep up. Then a glass of thick, sweet tea and another of coffee were served as dessert. At this point, I was ready for a nap!!

My ride to the restaurant then told that me he was going somewhere else so I should find another ride to the school. I do, only to find my office locked. This language barrier is gonna take some getting used to. Hahah

All in all, a good day. I wanted to let you guys know about my first meal with native Koreans. Lots more stuff I wanna tell y’all about soon!

-B

Food!

Food!, a set on Flickr.

More pics of what we have been eating!