First Impressions

Alright people.  I suppose it’s time for me to actually start writing about my experiences, now that I’ve been here three weeks and haven’t told you anything at all.  As a result, this will probably be a rather lengthy entry.  Grab yourself a drink and get comfortable.

I’m going to start with the day I left orientation, because that really felt like it was my first day in Korea, even though it was actually my seventh.  Orientation ended with a little ceremony where they gave us all certificates and then sent us on our way.  For those teachers who had already been here and teaching for a while, they had to take public transportation back to their schools.  For the newbies like me, we got picked up by our Korean co-teachers.  My co-teacher’s name is Sunny.  I had already met her earlier in the week because she was one of our trainers on the second day of orientation.  I knew that I was being taken straight to the school to meet the staff and have lunch with the principal, so I had spent the morning cleaning myself up, shaving off my week-long beard growth, and donning my suit so as to make a good first impression.  As if being nervous wasn’t enough, I was sweating like a whore a church because it was like 88 degrees with 1000% humidity, and I was wearing a freaking suit. 

Sunny was in a hurry, so I didn’t even get to say an abrupt farewell to the friends I’d made at orientation – fortunately, I was smart enough to write down everyone’s contact information earlier that morning. Sunny took me straight to Chungnam Foreign Language High School, my new place of employment.  (I’m not going to say much about my school right now, because that deserves its own blog entry, which I promise to write soon).  On the short drive to the school, we chatted a little about my reasons for coming to Korea and my teaching background.  At one point, to my utter astonishment, the song “F—K You” by Cee-Lo Green came on the radio (I wasn’t aware that any American music was popular here, especially a song like that.  I mean, I thought Koreans were supposed to be conservative), and Sunny was sort of drumming out the beat with her thumbs on the steering wheel. That put me at ease a little. 

When we arrived at the school, I was given a whirlwind tour and introduced to dozens of people.  In my state of nervous excitement, I could do little more than give each new person a stiff, self-conscious bow and a mumbled “Annyeong haseyo” – one of two Korean phrases I’d picked up at orientation.  Then I met the principal.  After a bow and a handshake, he asked me to sit down across from him, and he began asking me questions.  Even though I already had the job, this sort of felt like an interview.  At first I was intimidated, but that soon passed, because he was very friendly, always smiling, and seemed satisfied with the things I was telling him.  After speaking for a bit about my credentials and experience, we went to lunch.

I had thought lunch was going to be a somewhat informal affair, but I was wrong.  In addition to Sunny and the principal, we were joined by close to a dozen other teachers and administrators, as well as Liz, the American teacher I was replacing.  I’m thankful she was there, because she told me to just follow her lead.  Koreans have many idiosyncratic formalities when it comes to dining, especially when “elders” are present, and I was sure I would make some kind of faux pas.  But with Liz’s help, I made it through alright.  If I did make any mistakes, my companions were too polite to say anything. 

We went to a traditional Korean restaurant.  It was the real deal – shoes off at the door, sitting on the floor, etc.  Traditional Korean dining is a sort of communal experience – there are no individual servings (except for rice).  Instead, all the dishes are placed in the middle of the table and everyone shares.  Korean meals usually consist of some main entre (in this case salted, grilled fish – not nice, neat fillets, but the whole fish – bones, eyeballs, and all) and a great variety of small, colorful side dishes. The side dishes were mostly different types of spicy fermented vegetables, the infamous kimchi among them.  There was also some kind of spicy soup with tofu and seaweed in it.

At the start of the meal, the principal made a little speech in which he thanked Liz for all her hard work at the school and told her how much she’d be missed.  Then, he spoke directly to me, invoking the old “when in Rome…’ adage and applying it to my experience of Korea, encouraging me to keep an open mind and experimental attitude.  In keeping with this spirit, I dove right in to the meal.  It was all very good.  Even the kimchi wasn’t terrible, though I tried it out of politeness and kept my serving small.  After a week of the cafeteria-style food we’d been eating at orientation, I was starting to fear that I was going to have a tough time stomaching Korean food.  But this meal was my first indication, which has since been corroborated, that the food at orientation was just crap, an unfortunate introduction to Korean cuisine that I’m glad to have behind me. 

The fish was especially good, though it was difficult to eat.  If you’re ever curious what it feels like to be handicapped, try de-boning fish with chopsticks, without using both hands.  Oh, and a special note on Korean chopsticks:  they’re made of metal, and a little more slender than chopsticks I’ve used in the past.  This makes them kind of, shall we say, “slippery.”  Even though I’m no stranger to chopsticks, I struggled quite a bit, which was probably also due to nervousness.  I was aware of the others watching me in a clandestine manner;  it was probably my imagination, but I felt like I was being “sized up.”  Finally, the principal took pity on me and offered me some pointers, which didn’t seem to help much.  At one point, another teacher, who hadn’t spoken a word to me during the meal, asked the waitress to bring me a fork.  I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or not.  I didn’t want to use the fork; I wanted to learn to do it the way Koreans do it.  I mean, “when in Rome,” right?  But I also didn’t want to offend the guy, in case it was meant to be a generous gesture.  So I spent the rest of the meal awkwardly switching back and forth between the fork and the chopsticks. 

After lunch, I was taken to my apartment.  In addition to taking over Liz’s job, I was also taking over her living space.  I don’t think 

My apartment building

there’s much need to describe the apartment, so I’ll keep this brief.  It’s a small one-bedroom on the 15^th (top) floor of a highrise, not far from my school.  It has a bed, a wardrobe, a couch, a TV, a table or two, and not much else.  Korean homes usually don’t have ovens, but Liz had gotten a small convection oven which she passed on to me.  To tell you the truth, Liz made this transition super easy for me by selling me a bunch of her stuff for cheap – kitchenware, bedding (yeah, I’m sleeping on pink sheets and a flowery bedspread…don’t judge me), and the like.  There’s also a large balcony, a washing machine that doesn’t work very well, a rack for drying clothes, and an oscillating fan in lieu of an air conditioner.  The building is in a neighborhood called Hosan-ri, which is technically in Asan, but also pretty close to Cheonan.  It’s a pretty good location.  Cheonan is a decent sized city, with neon lights, street food, department stores, night clubs, foreigner bars, and taxis that nearly run you over.  I’m also pretty close to some major transportation links, including the Asan/Cheonan KTX station (high speed rail), which makes it really easy to get up to Seoul.  I’ve already made the trip 3 times.   

Hosan-ri, seen from the top of my building

That night we went out to dinner – Liz and I, and some of my new co-teachers.  This was when I met John Spooner, a native of New York who’s been living and teaching in Korea for a while now.  He has since become almost like my personal guide to Korea.  He’s helped me figure out which buses to take, how to get a transportation card, where to shop, where to eat, how to say my address to a taxi driver, and he’s been introducing me to lots of people in the area and helping me make friends.  I feel like I’d be lost without his help.

The view from my balcony

I’m going to end this entry here, and save the other adventures for next time.  I’ll also try to add things to this blog more regularly.  Now that I’m settled in and starting to become somewhat acclimated, things should be slowing down a bit, allowing me to dedicate more time to projects such as this.  Take care, all.  I’ll be in touch.