category is: poncho eleganza

category is: poncho eleganza

After three days straight of drinking for one of the Geoje friends, Diarmuid’s birthdays and emerging in approximately one piece, I’ve found myself halfway through September not quite sure how I got here. I’d been telling people that I’ve been here for “a year and a half” for so long that it’s kind of crazy to see that time finally arrive. I talked with my parents a few weeks ago, and I agree with something my dad said: “It’s been a weird summer.” It’s been much the same as many of my summers in some ways, like trying to go to the beach every day that I can manage, drinking all the drinks, getting attacked by mosquitoes, and climbing mountains. But it moved too quickly and too strangely. That’s what my dad meant, I think. There was a strange quality to the summer that’s hard to place, kind of how the light after an afternoon rainstorm is a little strange and uncanny.

Anyhow, enough metaphors. Whereas much of last summer was me chilling in my house or trying to convince friends to do things with me, more of this summer was simultaneously solo doing things and having the perfect squad who always seems up for anything (s/o to Geoje squad, you’ll hear a lot about them this post). It passed by too quickly to measure. Maybe that’s how all summers go.

At the beginning of the summer, I made a list of trips that I wanted to take before the end of the year. I managed to tick many of them off already:

  • Jirisan hike
  • Sokcho beach/Seoraksan hike
  • Taiwan
  • Jeju/Hallasan hike
  • Busan re-visit
  • Japan re-visit
  • Myrtle Beach, S.C. for family vacation

As the last post was about Jirisan, the bulk of this one is about the second on the list, which happened in late June. It seems like ages ago now.

July is always a weird month for an American abroad, especially this year, where we have a veritable psychopath in office doing his darnedest to destroy relations with every nation in the world, including with South Korea. Nonetheless, the 4th of July is always a time when Americans take at least some semblance of pride in their country. Traditionally, this holiday for me meant belting out patriotic songs while working a long day lifeguarding at the pool, eating barbecued hamburgers and hot dogs and other red, white, and blue treats, and getting to play pool games when our breaks allowed it. It meant watching fireworks and getting to spend time with friends and family. In later years, it meant day-drinking and night-drinking with college friends. Being removed from all that, and in a country where the 4th of July is just another day, well it’s hard even though most days I actively try to avoid telling people which country I’m from.

July for me this year meant getting an IUD and some sort of steady friends-with-benefits situation (since estranged) and attending my first Pride festival. There is nothing like being surrounded by the love of friends, honestly. Also, this summer I was hard at work for my Korean class at Yonsei University. I will admit I didn’t study much outside of class, but the classes themselves were grueling and really pushed me to the edge of my mental limit.

At the end of July, I went home (or as close to home as I’m likely to get for 7-8 months) to visit my family on vacation in Myrtle Beach. I could have dedicated a whole 2,000-word blog post to this trip, but it would be boring and repetitive for anybody not present on the trip. It was just a trick of fate that it happened my vacation time off and the time my family were at the beach lined up perfectly. I was so grateful to get to see the family, spend so much time at the beach, and eat and drink everything in America. I’d missed salty and cheese snacks so much, and I ate pickles by the jar. I had lots of good talks with my brother and received lots of career advice from my aunts. I also got more updated on all of the family gossip that I’d missed out on for the past 18 months. A lot changes when you’re away. However nice it was, though, it was hard to get over the feeling of being a stranger in my own land. I felt like I had “I DON’T BELONG HERE ANYMORE” tattooed on my head, even though I’m really just the most unremarkable American person anyone has ever beheld, so I attracted no attention. I’m used to standing out in a crowd with my blonde hair. I’m used to being able to talk in a normal speaking voice to my friends across the store; because we’re both speaking English it floats easily above the constant murmur of everything else. While it was nice to be in a place where “everything makes sense,” I understand much better how I fit into the local ecosystem in Seoul. I’m not looking forward to fitting myself back in when I return.

In August I was buried in a fog of report cards and my impending Korean final exam at Yonsei. Towards the end of the month I also managed to lose/get stolen all of my important things, like my phone, ARC (alien registration card), and debit card, in Itaewon. I’m still reeling from the ramifications of that one night. In addition, I and some friends had a short but delightful trip to Busan, which was a re-do of my original trip last year in May, which I’d gone solo and not prepared for at all. Having friends to hang with you at the beach makes things a lot better. Finally, I also received a new Korean name. I’d been going by 조지아 (Jo Ji-ah), which is just the Korean transliteration of my first name, and unfortunately a completely legitimate first name-last name set. However, my friends-with-benefits decided I needed a “more Korean” name than that, deciding that my name should be 김지혜, Kim Jihye. This meant that he decided I should take his last name, Kim, and that didn’t sit quite well with me. I contacted my co-teacher from the old school, Miss Tiffany, about it, and she also thought the name he’d given me was too plain, and also wanted to give me a “full Korean” name, which means that none of the syllables in the name can be transliterated into Chinese characters, or hanja. I chose the last name of Moon because a) I’m already called “Georgia Moon” sometimes, b) I’m obsessed with moon phases (I have a tattoo of them, after all) and c) our friend/drag mother Haebin’s last name is Moon, so several friends all decided that they would take that last name. Miss Tiffany arrived at a few, from which I picked 가람, Garam, which means “strong river flowing” or “accomplish results,” I was told. In addition, I’m happy with it because of its resemblance to the Indian spice mix Garam Masala.

The Seoraksan/Sokcho trip formed the centerpiece of my summer. In my initial query to the Geoje squad group chat, I was just searching for even one other person to accompany me on a hike to Seoraksan. I clearly have no qualms about hiking alone, but for some reason I really wanted somebody to go with me. In the proposal, I said I just wanted somebody to go hiking with me, and then we could chill at the beach for the rest of the weekend, maybe get some barbecue, too. I didn’t expect much. I didn’t expect the rest of the group to be so on board. Of course, it changed significantly as to time and content of activities, but the initial premise remained intact. Hike, barbecue, beach.

A six-person squad all living in different areas of Seoul with different sleep and work schedules is hard to coordinate. I’m apparently not good at coordinating, so I’m just the idea man. I just say “what if?” and everyone else helps me make it happen. Six brains are better than one, after all. Also, not everybody is capable or wants to travel in the grungy style that I’m comfortable with.

Friday night before we left, I packed, headed to friend Rachael’s neighborhood out in Incheon (I don’t know how I was persuaded this would be faster to take the bus from, but I’m not very bright sometimes.) We got chimaek (chicken and beer) for dinner, and then went to Rachael’s house, which is also a loft, to sleep.

Waking up at 5am Saturday, we took a taxi to the express bus terminal, arriving just mere minutes after the bus left. We tried heading to east bus terminal (“Dong Seoul,” as it’s usually called, because dong means “east” in Korean), but our other friend Yoojin had found that the next bus from there was at 2pm. Unacceptable!! So, we made an about-face and headed back to where we started. We finagled a some kind of bus trip with a transfer, arriving at 11am in Sokcho. We then taxied to our hotel, the Mammoth Resortel, which was right near Seoraksan. It was a 1970s-style ski lodge, and we seemed to be the only people around. We rocked up the room to discover that pretty much our whole floor was deserted (I thought this was quaint or fortunate but the other friends thought the deserted floor looked more like a horror movie). We had 6 bunk beds in the room, and it was a pretty cool setup. I always demand the top bunk.

We headed out for our “hike.” I use this term generously because by Jirisan standards there was not much in the way of actual hiking. We did reach the top of s o m e t h i n g.

Walking toward the bus stop was like walking through that town in “Spirited Away.” It looked deserted in the daytime, but maybe it really might come alive at night? The other friends weren’t so sure. We managed to find one solitary open restaurant, where we feasted on just the right amount of bulgogi, pajeon, and budaejjigae, washed down with makgeolli like true hikers.

Right when we got off the bus to the mountain, that very minute it started raining. We saw the big Buddha seated at the foot of the mountain, and I will admit it was quite atmospheric with the mist floating by. I hate a day when I have to purchase a poncho, but this was one of them. (A wiser person would just keep a poncho in her bag for times like these. I never do.) It was a crapshoot as to whether we would be allowed to take the cable car to the summit, because they were very near to closing it due to rain and thunderstorms. We lucked out and got to take it anyway. The foggy views going up were amazing! At the cable car terminus, we got off and walked maybe a hundred yards to the “summit,” where there were enough craggy rocks and views from up high to convince everybody that we’d climbed to the top of the whole mountain. “Poncho eleganza,” we called it. We got ice cream while we waited for the cable car down.

Back in town, we took the most harried but awesome trip to E-Mart ever. Gathering beef, pork, kimchi, veggies, somaek (soju and beer), hongcho (Korean fruit vinegar perfect for mixing with soju and beer), ice, rice, and ramen, we returned to the hotel to stash our stuff in the fridge and get everyone showered, which was quite the adventure. With only one bathroom, some of the braver souls ventured out into the other deserted rooms to use their showers instead. We prepared for dinner, some cutting veggies and getting everything set out and others just cranking the tunes. It was a really cool setup in the hotel, with an open deck edged by grills, a communal kitchen open for all to use, and a fountain in the middle. Nearly everyone took a turn at the grill. There was lots of samjang (spicy red pepper sauce) and drinking, and I tried to get everyone on board with the hongcho. (It mostly didn’t work.) We also got Colton, seemingly one of the only friends who had never heard of Rupaul’s Drag Race, hooked on the show.

Somehow, even after a substantial amount of drinking, we managed to get everything thrown away, recycled, washed, or refrigerated. After that, we headed back to our floor’s kitchen/lounge/common room. We played “never have I ever,” like the middle schoolers we are, while drinking still more. The length of the day really struck me here, and even after I brewed and downed a full pot of coffee, I still couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I and other old-person-friend Shane had to sleep early. Early, of course, being 1 or 2 in the morning.

Shane and I obviously woke up the next morning far earlier than the others, early enough to have coffee and breakfast before anyone else. For a long time, we dawdled packing and eating breakfast, before finally checking out and heading for the beach. I seemed to be one of the only people to bring a towel, so while the others went to go procure towels, I just went in the water, which was freezing. It started to rain, but we still played around in the water (it wasn’t crowded at that time because it hadn’t reached swimming season yet) and threw sand at each other. We found a duk galbi (grilled spicy chicken and veggies) place for lunch, complete with cheese and fried rice. We got ice cream on the way back to the bus station and headed for home.

Here comes the sappy part. I spent nearly all of my Geoje trip this past January being ridiculously hungover or downright sick. I thought it unlikely that I’d ever see any of the people I’d met on this trip ever again, as I usually don’t keep in touch with people I meet on those group trips. Somehow, I made lasting friends with these people (I call them the “squad” to some of the crew’s chagrin) who still want to meet and do stuff. We’re not all interested in the same stuff. Some of us like drinking insane amounts, some of us take a crazy amount of business trips to foreign countries, some of us like to go hiking alone and have to get rescued by the Korean army, some of us like to go to book festivals, and some of us like traipsing through Mongolia alone. Somehow we found a squad that works in all of its various iterations, and I’m excited to see how we’ll keep in touch when we all part ways and before.

I’m so grateful for this s q u a d. End sappy bit.

I’m looking forward currently to my next grand trip during Chuseok, where I plan to make my re-attempt of Jeju Island’s Hallasan and then head on toward Taiwan. I’m looking forward with trepidation to the end of it all, when I’m attempting to travel for a month in China, maybe swing by Hawaii, and then finally come to a rest back on the east coast of the United States. My “real person” life sounds like a tired but happy balance of “side hustles” with finding a real and meaningful job that is even more well-suited to me than teaching.

A toast to looking forward and looking back on times well-spent with friends.

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Don’t sweat the big stuff

Don’t sweat the big stuff

I’m just now clearing the backlog of all the travelling posts I’ve collected in the past 3 months but haven’t written. I understand what my cousin, Susanna, meant when she said she always made blogging out to be a big thing, and I totally get that now. I’m always collecting events and topics to write about but rarely actually sit down to write about them.

Ever since I was little, I’ve always been excited about my birthday. From birthday parties at the YMCA to going to the movies and out to dinner in middle school, to hiking trips and samgyeopsal the last two years, it’s always been a winning combination of comforting things and demanding fanfare. The day before my birthday, I had a language exchange with my old co-teacher, Miss Tiffany. We’ve long since strayed from the original purpose of the language exchange, but the camaraderie remains. Miss Tiffany very sneakily bought me a cake for my birthday!!! It was a lovely time. This was also shortly before I started the Korean classes at Yonsei which quickly ate up all my free time commuting and studying.

The next night, which was a weeknight so we couldn’t go too crazy, I met friends from my old school, Maxine and Stephanie, for samgyeopsal (as is the way) and drinking. We got too caught up in talking and arrived late to the bar where my friend Haru had been waiting for us for nearly an hour (!! I’m a bad friend..) Haru had brought a gift of a baby cactus which I’m still trying my best to keep alive, against all the odds. As we left the bar, I was trying (albeit unsuccessfully) to persuade my friends to come noraebang with me when Winner’s song, “Really, Really,” came on in the arcade across the street. That was enough to persuade all of the friends. There’s almost nothing in this country I love more than noraebang. After we had put Maxine in a taxi and seen Haru off to her house, I made Steph come back to mine and eat some cake, even though it was 3am and staying up that late is wildly out of character for her.

The next day was Friday. It was a really fun night, right? No. With impending open class, I stayed in the café to work on things for class. Moreover, I had class the next day, on Saturday, so there wasn’t any gallivanting to be had that Friday night. After Saturday class, I got lunch at a place near my work called American Factory, which I feel like they opened just for me, as I’m the only American in the area, and then convinced Steph to get some black ice cream that I had found in Hongdae area. We had to wait a long time but it was worth it “for the insta” and to find out exactly what flavor it would be. (With the black food dye, we figured it could be any flavor at all.) That evening we went out drinking with the Geoje lads and got up to some hijinks in the club.

Open class was the following week. To say I was terrified was an understatement. Last year, we submitted the lesson plans a month ahead. I had to re-write the plans several times. You have to rehearse the class ahead of times so that all of the students perform perfectly. It has to be “fun and exciting” (read: we have to create all-new games and materials for only this class) for the parents even though they have ostensibly come to see a regular, everyday class. My first open class, vice director (even though she had seen, tweaked, and eventually approved this lesson plan weeks in advance) took me aside right as I was going into class to try to add something else to the plan. We did not improvise in the practice and I was not prepared. She was right, of course, that I had not prepared enough material and I would have 10 minutes of extra time at the end, but she could have addressed this concern at any time in the previous weeks. That was enough to set the flustered and frustrated tone for the rest of the day. I went into the class, where 20 parents are crammed into a tiny room of about 12′ X 8′ and judging everything about you, from your teaching style to your outfit, and filming you for posterity. They are judging your teaching as well as how much you praise their child. It’s the toughest crowd I’ve ever seen, even though theoretically the parents are all there to see their children be happy and succeed. (theoretically) Since we had already practiced the game a few days before, the kids became bored quickly. Andy, our class’s resident troublemaker and notoriously ill-behaved (this kid once punched me in the face in the middle of a screaming fit, where I had to carry him out of the classroom so that the principal could talk to him) student, decided that he wanted the card Daniel had. A regular student would have used words: even “that one!!” would have been sufficient, or even gestures, but instead Andy decided the right thing to do would be to reach out and sock Daniel and take the card, thus starting a veritable fistfight in the middle of my open class. In the second class, preschool class, set in the gym, all the kids were sitting on the floor for a game which combined running and phonics, when to my horror I see Kyle has pulled his dick out of his shorts and is playing with it like it’s the most fascinating toy in the world. He had never done that before open class day. Luckily, none of the parents saw. Second open class, while nothing went wrong during the class itself, I had to rewrite my open class lesson plan more than everyone else combined. Even one rewrite is too many, in my book.

I love telling these stories to the incoming teachers and watching their eyes get really big. “What have I gotten myself into?” they think. I was really prepared for the worst with this open class. I had 4 50-minute classes to teach instead of 2 20-minute classes. The classes in this school are considerably worse-behaved than in the last school. There’s a lot less interesting material in these books and a lot more time to fill. So much can go wrong! Plus, class sizes can be much bigger at this school, so I was prepared to be watched by scores of parents. Instead, less than half of the parents came. They were mildly interested at best, playing on their phones the whole time at worst. (I also got a bit of a flash-forward to when/if I have kids and I’m forced to attend unending back-to-school nights.) After all that preparation, it turned out for once I really had worried too much. This is a recurring theme in my life.

And then, everything went to shit.

Briefly.

It’s still a little tenuous in this department. I’ll explain.

I was having a movie night a few days after open class (Steph and I had a standing promise to watch Riverdale together), scrolling through Facebook on my phone when I came across a post on the women’s expat in korea group. There are so many posts each day that it’s a wonder any given one will catch my eye. But I just happened to read this one. The long and short of it is that people with E2 visas (me) are apparently legally not allowed to work at after school programs (also me) or they will get deported immediately. I immediately spiraled into panic mode. The comments and suggestions off of that post and other related post fed my frenzy. Quit immediately, seemed to be the advice, go get a D10 visa, hire a lawyer, be prepared for the worst. Quit immediately, quit immediately, quit immediately.

I emailed my boss to ask for clarification (he hasn’t ever responded to that or subsequent emails on that particular subject…) The next day, I called him. It’s never fun calling my boss, not because he’s not perfectly nice, but rather because it’s so hard to understand him. His English is fine, but he’s a fast talker and is usually on speaker phone. He’s a busy guy. So it’s hard to tell if what I heard in this call is real or not. The essence of this call was thus: you shouldn’t worry because that law is coming after international schools and after school programs, but since we are registered as a hagwon (cram school) and only teach conversational English, it’s okay. The law is targeted at people teaching other subjects like science, math, social studies, and gym in English under E2 visas at places like international schools and after school programs. Only F-series visas are apparently allowed to work at these kind of places. I went through several really long spirals of logic to become okay with this situation. I haven’t been deported yet (If I do, my only plan is to get my hair dyed an insane rainbow color before I leave) and I’ll continue working hard for my school and keeping my head down, hoping that it stays that way.

That was my month of May in a 1500-word nutshell. During this time, I was really excited because it looked like hyung Aidan could make his ill-fated return trip at the beginning of June! It was not to be. A week out, he had to cancel the plans for the trip. I decided to still go on the hike that I had planned to take him on, climbing the highest mountain in mainland Korea, Jirisan. When faced between taking a slightly earlier bus down to the trailhead and having to find a pension in the dark and taking the midnight bus, sleeping on the bus, and hiking straight off the bus, I obviously chose the latter because I’m batshit insane, clearly. The “plan” follows:

  • Nambu Terminal midnight bus
  • Start at 2ish
  • Summit by noon
  • Cheonwangbong Peak
  • Descent by 2-3
  • Bus to Jinju to visit (Geoje friend) Hilary, if it’s too late to go back home at this point, then stay the night with her in Sacheon.

Prior to the bus’s departure, I chilled out in a Tom & Tom’s charging my phone and drinking a latte. You’ll find this was my first mistake. Second mistake was that I had neglected to buy a headlamp or flashlight prior to this time, even though I was pretty damn sure I was going to be starting the climb in the pitch dark. Because of the coffee, I barely slept on the bus. The seats were reclined and comfy, but I just couldn’t fall asleep. All the thoughts of the unknown were too busy swimming through my head. I had hoped that it would take until 3 or 4 am to get to the trailhead, so we would only be hiking an hour or two before sunrise. Unfortunately, almost on the dot at 3am we arrived. I was the youngest person on that bus by 20 years, the only solo female, and the only foreigner of any kind. All the grunting and stretching and people gathering into groups only served to remind me of how alone I was, how stupid a venture this had been. Why am I trying to climb a mountain alone at 3am nowhere near Seoul? At least, if I decided to quit and sit on the side of the road until the sun came up, I rationalized, I only had to wait 2 hours until I could see again.

For some fool reason, I decided to try to head up the trail. I ended up following some groups of ahjusshis up to the mountain. Trying to maintain a not-creepy distance while still seeing which way they took was a distinctly difficult challenge. It was threatening to rain and I was very sad about that, as I was using my phone flashlight held up to my chest like Iron Man. After a branch in the way, it seemed like the original group I had been following was thinning out. I was alone, in the threatening rain, with only my phone as a flashlight, in the dark. Great job, go me. As with all hikes, I couldn’t really confirm I was on the trail until I saw other people go that way. There were people behind me, so I was trying to reverse-follow them, as in making sure that they were still following me to make sure I was going the right way. It’s at least a kilometer, I’d say, walking on the road to even get to the start of the trailhead. I passed so many minbaks and pensions I really wished I’d booked one of those instead. But I forged on. At the trailhead, a pair of ahjusshis, Mr. Choi and Mr. Kim, stopped for water and a chocolate bar as I studied the map. It was my intention to keep studying the map for as long as possible so that they could go ahead. It turns out, the ahjusshis had decided they would adopt me and I should go with them, as it’s dangerous to go alone.

You know that feeling when you’re offended somebody thinks you need help but you really do need the help so you’re also secretly grateful? That’s how I was feeling. It was nice to receive confirmation that I was going the right way, though, and let go of the reins for a bit. I’d initially thought that Mr. Choi and Mr. Kim were way better hikers than me, but we all averaged out to be kind of the same, going up the mountain. At our first stop for water, it had become light enough to turn the headlamps off. My phone was suffering.  The hiking itself was really quite easy, all the way to the top. It can be a far distance, and it requires advance planning, but the Jirisan hike that I chose was really not all that hard. At Rotary shelter, we stopped again. It was probably only 7am at this point, but we had been walking for hours. I was woefully unprepared, food and drink-wise. I had extra clothes and water that I needed, but Mr. Kim (I’d taken to calling him Himchan-ahjusshi because of his resemblance to B.A.P’s Himchan) had a few boxes of food that his wife had packed and he and Mr. Choi, he insisted, could not eat it all by themselves. It was just garlic bread and cherry tomatoes but it certainly took the edge off my hunger. To be sure I didn’t really like cherry tomatoes until then.

The flowered trees were beautiful and I seemed to gain strength as the sun rose. After climbing for hours, we made the summit by 9 or 10. My phone chose this time to die, as it often gives up early when it’s cold outside and it was considerably colder at the top of the mountain. Mr. Kim lent me his phone charger for long enough to charge my phone to get that selfie, and then we headed down the mountain again. The way down was both faster and much slower. We took more stops because the ahjusshis’ knees were getting really sore. There were also scores of school kids on some kind of hiking field trip/ scavenger hunt clogging up the works.

When we reached town again, I thought that it would be nice for me to buy lunch for Mr. Choi and Mr. Kim, but I had mentioned something about buying a bus ticket to Jinju to visit my friend, and so when we stopped into the convenience store to buy one, we found that there was a bus there leaving in only 10 minutes. Barely enough time for a bathroom break, let alone a lunch. So, I said goodbye to the ahjusshis who adopted me and went on my way.

In Jinju, I got changed in the bus stop. I was “earthy but not unpleasant,” as my aunt once told my parents after they’d completed a long bike trip. The dirt clinging to my ankles and the sweat on my bag was unmistakeable, though. I went for a bagel and coffee at Ediya first, and then a burger at Lotteria, where I was chilled to the core by the fan. Geoje friend, Hilary, and I met and we got ice cream, coffee, and walked around. To Hilary, going into Jinju is “going into town,” but Jinju is a pretty small place compared to Seoul. After a really nice visit, I got the bus home. The subway ended early so I thought, “why not walk some more?” and walked the 3 stops back to my house. I’m not one to measure steps but I’m sure I walked like 50,000 steps that day.

As for some conclusions of this time in my life?

I think that everyone should try to travel alone like this at some point in their lives. Accept help when you need it, even if you think you don’t. Take time out for friends. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Don’t sweat the big stuff. Everything will sort itself out in the end. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.

 

A toast to planning, even though you know you’ll end up winging it anyway.

 

Beaches, Backpackers, and Banh Mi

Beaches, Backpackers, and Banh Mi

A few days ago I returned from the United States, where I was visiting with family. That was the last overseas trip I’d been on since going to Vietnam at the beginning of May more than 2 months before. It occurred to me that I still hadn’t actually posted about Vietnam yet. This month is about to be the busiest month yet: balancing writing report cards with studying for my Yonsei Korean final exam, it won’t be easy to get it all done. I’m relying on day trips and studying in cute cafes to keep me sane.

Anyhow, back to my Vietnam account. It had never even occurred to me to visit until the convergence of two things: first, walking with one of my fellow travelers in the lava tunnels in Jeju, she suggested that if I like caves, I should go to Vietnam. Second, my friend and coworker Julia moved to Vietnam at the end of our semester in February. Both of these things together made it compelling to travel there.

On Saturday, I departed from Incheon headed for Hanoi. I got to watch some Korean movies (“My Annoying Brother” and one of my personal favorites, “Lucky”) and we were fed. God bless non-American flights. I had done the visa upon arrival that many people recommend which was pretty cheap and easy, although it was kind of a pain to get all of my things printed at the print shop before I left. A kind of creepy guy was noticing my progress in the visa line (I was doing my typical observing to see what I should be doing) and helped me out, so I suppose I’m grateful for that. I had neglected to take out US dollars as the visa website had instructed, but it turns out that the Vietnamese dong (Vietnamese currency) were okay anyway. It’s certainly not as much stress as applying for the Korean working visa, at any rate.

The busses and trains (if there were any trains to be gotten from the airport, that is… not every city is as well-connected as Seoul) had all left, so I was advised to take a minibus. I learned my taxi lesson after Japan, when it ended up costing more than $100 USD. I was stressed on the minibus: am I going the right way? Are we going to the right city? Am I about to be killed for my internal organs? That kind of suspicion is trained into you. I’m always noticing trees when I go to another place, a habit I learned from my mom. Everything in Hanoi is flat, which is a definite contrast to Korea, where there are mountains rising from the middle of the city. The boys here are cute enough but they’re even more noodley than Korean boys.

When it was just me on the bus, the driver started asking me questions too: “Isn’t it sad to travel alone?” (Not really) and “You’re so pretty,” (yeahhhh whatever.) I had thought old boy had driven me to murder street as all the lights were off and it was deserted. Even at midnight, the streets are never silent in Seoul. I had neglected to look up at the second floors, though, because I found my hostel right away once I did. The front desk guy stayed up late waiting for me, which was really nice of him. The beds were the most uncomfortable beds I’ve slept on in my entire life, and paired with the most difficult bunk bed I’ve ever had the misfortune of climbing up (with only two high-up steps and no higher rungs, you had to wedge your hands in between the bed and the wall for leverage) and a light directly outside my window shining persistently in my face, meant I slept barely a wink all night. Nonetheless, any bed is better than no bed.

The next morning, Sunday, the front desk girl made me a noodle and eggs breakfast while I jacked a Vietnam guidebook and tried to make a plan of what to do that day. While some trips benefit from being meticulously planned, like Hong Kong and Japan where things are hard to find on your own, some trips, like Vietnam, benefit from spontaneity. This trip was to be my first proper backpacker-type trip, and I only had hostels reserved and a vague idea of each city I’d be in for the day. The rest was up to chance. My list of things to do for the day was wide-ranging and somewhat unrealistic:

  • Coffee
  • Temple of literature (very near to my hostel)
  • Black ice cream (I saw it on the way in, but it turns out I found some back in Seoul a few weeks later)
  • Bun cha (a local favorite)
  • Lake
  • Old quarter
  • French quarter
  • Halong Bay?
  • Sapa?

Anyone who has traveled to Vietnam knows that you can’t do all of these things, and certainly not the last two, in even one day. Each of the last two is at the very least a full-day trip, starting early in the morning, as they are far from Hanoi. Needless to say, I didn’t follow that list at all, but perhaps it helped to guide my interests. After breakfast, I took a wander to see if I could get to anywhere resembling a main street from my hostel. Even taking all right turns, I got horribly lost in the back alleys before somehow making my way back. My plan for the day was a relatively simple square: West Lake down through the Old Quarter and French Quarter, Hoan Kiem Lake, and then back to the hostel. It was not incredibly ambitious considering how much I walk any given day in Seoul, but it’s incredibly hot in Vietnam and almost nobody walks ever. If you’re walking down the street, so many people driving motorcycles slow down and want to give you a ride (for a cost, of course). I took a motorcycle taxi to Tay Ho and West Lake and saw the Tran Quoc Pagoda. I was immediately told to leave, of course, because I was wearing shorts, but I got to get a good look around before I went. I caught an iced tea in some old lady’s road side stand on the road back to the shore. I tried to walk to the old quarter and failed, but got pho at some pavilion in the market. I’m not quite sure where anything was in Hanoi, I was so lost all the time. I had a nice conversation with a girl about my age who worked at the pho place. People in Vietnam are pretty nice and are less about selling things than in Korea.

I went to a place called Son Café, which I remember distinctly because I spent so long there. I was just chilling enjoying my iced coffee when a little girl came up to me. She was learning English, and it’s clear from my face that I know English, so she started talking to me. She kept gifting me sweet potatoes (I hate sweet potatoes but I didn’t want to be rude) and her mom brought out some of her English books. I thought it was just to show me, but through a combination of words I couldn’t understand and gestures, she conveyed that she wanted me to teach her girl a bit (I was “paid” in an extra coffee). It was a little strange because the girl was only showing me what she’d already learned, but it was interesting to see how Vietnamese and Korean books are different. I gave her some FeelGood stickers (which I’d brought to do a bit of tagging, but oh well) and she gave me some plastic beads from her bracelet. After a few hours and the little girl going haphazardly through three different books, the girl’s mom managed to ask, with her daughter translating, if there was anywhere in Hanoi that I wanted to go. Using my maps and some advanced miming, I told her I was trying to go to Hoan Kiem lake, which was somewhere south of there. I thought she might give me directions, but it turns out we all walked there together. I would have been okay if they left me there, but the little girl had not tired of me yet. Most of our conversation was just naming different things in Vietnamese and English, but the girl was still amused. We went to the temple in the middle of the lake and the girl led me through, saying “Picture! Picture!” denoting where I should take pictures of things at the temple. We also got some coconut ice cream and sat by the lake practicing English again. The girl still hadn’t tired of me, but her mom had grown weary so she took us back to the café. I tried to walk back, but eventually gave up, getting a motorcycle taxi back to the hostel. After a shower and some recharging my phone, I drilled the front desk guy I’d met the night before while I drank a pepsi. While I chilled on the cushions on the floor (the tables were just wooden shipping pallets nailed together), some guys came in and were also talking to front desk guy. I don’t remember how this came about, but they invited me out to dinner, which was good because I was only going to sleep early that night and not do anything exciting. The two boys, both insanely tall, were Max, an 18-year-old from Australia, and Nathan, a late-20s French Vietnamese guy. We got some sort of pho with all kinds of mystery meats and Bia Hoy, the local beer (which is a lot like the light kind of beers that they drink in Korea). I learned a lot from both of them. Nathan had traveled a lot in Vietnam, and Max had traveled a lot, well, everywhere, on his gap year before he decided whether to attend uni or not. When I returned, I worked with front desk guy and he succeeded in organizing a Sapa tour for me the next day.

Monday, the next day, I woke up crazy early to leave for the Sapa tour. Front desk guy, as he’d promised only hours before (I wondered how long his hours were to have been working from the evening before), made me a takeaway breakfast and arranged even the motorcycle taxi to take me to the bus stop. I left my big bag in the hostel and only took the small backpack with me. We had a sleeper bus, but we had to wait for the 6:30 bus to leave before our 7:30 bus could come in. Sleeper buses are really cool. There are three columns and two levels of seats with little ladders up, and the seats are made to recline the whole way back. It’s very civilized compared to the seats on buses in Korea or the States.

I arrived in Sapa town and met my guide Sua (it’s easy to remember her name because my favorite iced coffee with the condensed milk is “caphe sua da”), who would take me on the trek. In the market, we got bun cha for lunch. It’s basically pho, though. We met Sua’s aunt, who is Mong ethnic Vietnamese and would be taking both of us on the trek. Sua shows me the little plants and villages along the way, and got to see the rice and other fields. Sua’s aunt does this 8km hike every day into the village, and she does it in only shower slides, no real shoes or hiking sticks. Sometimes there is only a small hold for the balls of your feet cut into the mud surface of the hill. I consider myself a pretty okay hiker but this little old lady had me beat, sometimes guiding me along princess-style because I was slipping. At the top of the mountain, after we’d heard stories of how hard Sua’s aunt has to walk each day, she somehow goaded me into buying nearly $100 worth of her hand-embroidered stuff (which was okay but just meant that I had to skip out on other souvenirs or experiences later in the trip). About 20 yards away from the homestay—I’d thus far managed to not fall down in any muddy ditches or creeks—I slipped on the muddy hillside and soaked through my shoes in mud and maybe cow dung. I ended up wearing my flip flops for the rest of the time.

The ZiZi homestay looked quaint and humble, but when they showed me up to my bed, there were outlets there and wifi, even though we were at the top of a mountain. I was so tired that I took a nap until dinnertime. In retrospect, I wish I’d brought another shirt, at least, because I was feeling really grungy and gross by this time. Dinner was a massive barbeque outside with all kinds of kebabs, lettuce, cucumber, cilantro, and more. I’d gotten a beer but it disagreed with me so I just set it down and committed to water for the rest of the night. There were kids and dogs running around everywhere and it felt like a really cool place that you could stay at for a long time. The other travelers at the homestay came from all different countries, and one of the ladies had stayed there for weeks just because it was so comfortable. I didn’t really click with anybody, though, and went to bed early because I was tired and stinky.

The next morning I headed out early. There wasn’t much in the way of breakfast and I probably got scalped when checking out (I could have sworn I paid for this homestay when I left Hanoi the day before). One of the most terrifying times of the whole trip was taking the motorcycle taxi down the mountain. There were hair-raising turns, steep hills, and rocky roads threatening to throw me off the bike, and I was holding on for dear life. I survived, but it was still terrifying. Again, I wasn’t quite sure I had the right bus, but they took me back to Hanoi alright. I got a car-taxi back to the hostel, the TV playing some kind of Vietpop which sounded like a tacky, canned version of k-pop. I felt much better after changing clothes and cooling off. I got a new bus ticked to Dong Hoi (where Julia lives in Vietnam) and also got the motorcycle taxi to the stop settled. The bus didn’t leave for a while so I was going to just chill at the hotel when suddenly, French Nathan reappeared! We went out to get an iced coffee, talk, and chill on an air-conditioned porch (it turns out I’m a sucker for his French accent). It took ages for the bus to come to the stop, and this one was a longer trip and made longer stops. I was just anxious to get to Julia’s and sleep. However, I had discovered that I unequivocally like the top bunk of the sleeper bus better.

I arrived in Dong Hoi at 4am. I borrowed a taxi driver’s phone to call Julia (this is one of those backpackery things that would drive my mom nuts but I somehow pulled it off), and sure enough she came through and drove me to her house. Julia has very sporadic hours, so she had just three classes that day, one early in the morning and one a little later. I slept while she went to her first class, we got banh mi sandwiches and iced coffees for breakfast overlooking the market, and then she went to teach her second class of the day. I tried to walk to the beach (attempting to remember the “map” she’d described to me as we drove around that morning) and failed, though I came pretty close. I got more coffee at Riverside Café to use their wifi, mainly. I headed back to Julia’s house, then we both went to a place called Gemenai Hotel (I promise this is how it’s really spelled) for lunch and to meet Julia’s friend and coworker Byron, who is really cool.

We all headed to a place—which proved to be my favorite part of the trip—Beachside Backpackers hostel/bar, where Julia promised there would be hammocks and beach hangs and beer if I wanted it. There was some oldschool country music playing and I got another coffee (a constant theme in my life is my battle against my need for coffee), although in moving my backpack over to the hammocks, I broke the coffee cup. I always feel 200% worse about breaking glass things than the actual owner of the glass thing ever does. Plus, it’s scary having broken glass where there are lots of barefoot people. Julia had to take off for her third class, so I played around in the hammocks, went swimming, and visited with Byron more (I was lowkey being babysat a little, but it’s understandable) because he didn’t have to work until later.

Julia’s 2pm class got canceled so she was just napping and Byron took me back to her house. I remarked to Julia about the oldschool country music and we ended up reminiscing about early 2000s country and singing little snippets of what we could remember. Julia’s apartment is spare, but you don’t really need much when you can eat out well for very cheap and don’t spend much time at your house. We got a food called banh loc xian, basically Vietnamese pierogies with spicy fish sauce to dip, and brought it back to beachside. We took up residence at one of the tables there, and many people joined us. Julia’s friend from back home in Canada, Becca, and her fiancé Laurent, their AirBnB guests, a random Scottish guy who wandered in from the beach, other hostel guests, and hostel owners Anh and Mikayla (and their adorable baby, Sophie) all came by our table to visit. Drinking nights are frequent in Vietnam but they don’t last long, because apparently people work almost 7 days a week.

That night, we had intended to get some snacks and Netflix a movie at Julia’s house, but when we got home we discovered a literal grapefruit-sized spider in her house. It was a group effort to get the door open and Julia got her neighbor to come kill it. The craziest thing about that is the neighbor picked up this massive spider in his hand and took it away like it was nothing. I’ve been to Australia and this is still the biggest spider I’ve ever seen, hands down.

The next day in Dong Hoi, Julia had to work again in the morning, and I had intended to go out and explore, but I just slept instead. For breakfast that day, we got banh mi again (definitely my favorite food in Vietnam) and drank coconuts!! I’m not a fan of eating coconuts but drinking them was pretty fun. We had intended to go to the market, but it was closed for siesta, so we had a swim at Beachside instead. Julia showed me her favorite café, which I had seen on Instagram and expressed my interest in visiting, and I was not disappointed. Vietnamese cafes are often outdoors and many have plastic chairs and umbrellas, so you are mostly chilling in the shade. Julia said something about the Vietnamese coffee that really resonated with me: that it’s an exercise in patience. You really have to wait for something that good. Much like Australian coffee, for good things you’ve got to wait and set aside enough time to properly enjoy it.

My phone charger had broken so I got a new one, followed by pho (my other favorite food in Vietnam) for “lupper” (a term in my family that means a late lunch/early dinner after which you might eat a late night dinner). The to-do for this day was a barbeque at Beachside, and there was so, so much food. Anh kept the food coming and you could have just eaten it for hours if you didn’t get full first. After some soul rapping we went home and I got to call my mom and tell her I hadn’t died. Every trip I go to a beach and collect some sand for her, and that day I collected some from Beachside.

The next day, the day I had been looking forward to the most out of the whole trip, was our trip to Phong Nha caves. I’d had big plans to book a big tour, a multi-day trek with camping and rappelling and headlamps, but when I went to book it, my credit card wouldn’t work on the website. Could I have gotten it to work? Yes. But I took that as a sign to do another tour. This one was through Julia’s friend Becca, and ultimately ended up being just what the doctor ordered. We were picked up from her house early, and we had a very multicultural group, Hong Kong, Chinese, Japanese, and Korean people. Our guide explained about the caves and the region as we drove. The region looked very primordial, which was a good thing because that was where they filmed King Kong. (Nowadays it might be a great place to film a Jurassic Park movie, too). The national park was of historical importance, too, people coming through the caves to try to deliver supplies to the occupied north. Nowadays, there’s no farming or logging allowed in the park, so the tourism to the caves supports the regional economy.

We went to Paradise Cave first. I’ve been in many caves, (including Mammoth Cave in Kentucky, the longest cave system in the world), but this one is probably the biggest one I’ve seen, volume-wise. As caves age, the stalactites build up, become too heavy, and break off, and form again, and you can tell these are very old caves in that way, many layers of detritus from old stalactites forming towering piles on the cave floor. In this cave, it was pretty touristy, with raised pathways and good lighting for selfies throughout, but only for 1 kilometer. You can walk up to 7km in this cave but from the first km, only headlamps and spelunking from there. Lots of the cave looks like a coral reef (or like the underground caves in Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind); I could have looked at the formations for hours. It’s lucky we didn’t have hours. Julia’s friend Becca works for a tour company and she had brought a go-pro camera to film a promotional video, but we found out later she dropped the go-pro down a pile of rocks near the entrance and had to go retrieve it somehow.

The Phong Nha park has only been open since 2003, some sections (like Paradise Cave) have only been opened as recently as 2010. So it’s a very new park. The largest cave in the world is Son Doong, and that cave can be found in this park. Only one tour company is licensed to go in this cave (not Becca’s company), and you must sign all kinds of waivers and pay thousands of dollars to go. You take a several-day expedition and a team of porters and assistants to help you. They call it a once-in-a-lifetime trip, such that I made myself a promise that that’s the kind of thing I’d want to do on a honeymoon.

We didn’t go to Son Doong, obviously. Our second cave of the day was called Dark Cave, but first we had to eat some lunch. We had an assortment of barbeque meats, sticky rice, veggies, herbs, noodles, rice paper, and peanuts, and together we made all of these into neat little rice paper wraps. In Dark Cave, you must wear headlamps and lifejackets. You zipline down to the cave entrance, swim into the cave, and then alight on the sandbar. The light filtering into the mouth of the cave was absolutely unreal, like something out of a movie. Once the light goes away, you understand why it’s called Dark Cave. You must crawl through narrow crevasses and over rocks and things, which is more fun, somehow, in the dark. Eventually we arrived at a room which is entirely flooded with muddy water (“chocolate party,” as the guide called it), and playing with buoyancy in the water was really fun. Like the Dead Sea, it’s so easy to float with no effort it’s almost disconcerting. After that, going down the mud slide was supposed to be fun, but instead many of us ended up scraping our butts up on the way down (the slide was more sandy than muddy, you see).

We were supposed to kayak back to the shore, and I do love kayaking, but instead I swam back with Julia and Becca. It wasn’t drastically faster or slower than kayaking, anyway. There were ziplines and an American Ninja Warrior-style obstacle course of hanging things to jump off of into the water. It was just a hanging zipline, so I went off it and instead of flipping or dropping gracefully into the water, I did a terribly painful backflop instead. After changing, there were bottles and bottles of rum and coke to “celebrate” a job well done. Julia had to get her motorbike fixed that evening, so she dropped me at a cute café to take some wifi while she went to find a mechanic that would still be open at that time. She had been invited to a hen party, but decided against it, and we went to a restaurant called Red Pepper instead to get pizza. We ran into the Hong Kong people from the caving trip and met the prettiest couple from Holland I’ve ever seen. We had another talk at Beachside and a cocktail and then headed back.

The next day was my trip to Hue, so I woke up, packed up, said goodbyes, and shipped off. Being friends with other travelers is weird. You might not see them again for a long time, or ever, but you know you’re always welcome in each other’s homes. Social media keeps you connected. I love this modern age sometimes. Julia dropped me at the train station and had to go to work, but it turns out that my ticket we’d bought was for the next day instead. I was politely told to leave the train and pouting on the bench, when the train conductor man (on the sly) told me to get back on the train anyway. I was still stressed the whole ride that they would throw me off the train at any time, but they didn’t. From the food trolley lady I got some mango and chili salt to dip it in.

When I got off the train, some boy named Thanh cornered me right away and tried to sell me on a motorcycle Hai Van Pass tour. After getting kind of swindled in Sapa, I had just enough to make it until the end of the trip with bus tickets, hostel fees, and food, so I really didn’t have that much money to play around with. I had considered doing this tour, but at 2 million VND I could only afford half of that. He did manage to haggle it down to 120k but I really didn’t have enough. Thanh wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he succeeded in arranging my bus to the next city (although he probably scalped me, too) and invited me to a party and going out drinking. The story that follows is one that definitely would have skeeved out my mom, but I managed to get out alive.

I went to my Hue hostel, Why Not (I booked it because of the name, you can’t argue with that logic), which was western-themed. The beds were so big and comfy that I regret a bit that I couldn’t have slept in this hostel the whole time in Vietnam. (Side note: Vietnam hostels are so cheap that it’s impossible to choose one. The bad ones are $4 USD per night, and the good ones are as low as $7 USD, so it’s really not expensive to get a good one like this.)  The hostel was in a really hip area of town and I was planning my day’s route walking around. I planned to walk to the Imperial City on the other shore, which was not far on the map but felt far in the heat and owing to people accosting me at every turn to get a motorcycle taxi. I got iced coffee and wifi at some eerily deserted outdoor café with bizarre cobalt tablecloths (seriously this place was so big and looked like it was set up for a wedding, but it was just a regular café). I had brought my sketchbook but hadn’t used it until that day, but sketching the imperial city was so relaxing, even in the stifling summer heat. Much of the palaces have been destroyed by time and wars, but what remains is still impressive—and still being rebuilt. The reading pavilion was my favorite part, a wooden structure set in a little lake, very quiet and surrounded by flowers.

I took a motor taxi back to the hostel, and I saw Anh and Sophie walking by while I was waiting for Tranh. I’d been considering not going, but I figured, what did I have to lose by it? Tranh picked me up in a taxi van. I’d pictured this party being at some sort of club, but it turns out it was a party that was the 1-year anniversary of one of his family member’s deaths. This is usually a family event, and all the aunts gathered looked at me like I was the one who killed their relative. We did the bowing and putting up incense. Tranh had promised me there were some American friends to talk to, and his friend Kyle/Bao was nice enough. “We don’t go home until we’re drunk,” Tranh explained, and there was so much food on the table. They did their best to get me drunk with shitty light beer with ice in it. They didn’t succeed, and I was bored enough to go play with the cats and little kids. There weren’t many people for me to talk to. After that, we went to some kind of rooftop café, and in moving the glass tables together Kyle-Bao managed to completely shatter one of the glass tables. I have no idea how he did it. I got cut by it, which I also have no idea how it happened. It looked like a much more dramatic cut than it actually was. Tranh took just me drinking after with his creepy old man friends. After this point I begged off by saying I was sick and going to throw up all over him. That was enough. After I got back, I went out to the night markets briefly, had a shower, and then went to bed.

The next day I had to head to the next city, Hoi An. I had a breakfast ticket at Why Not so I got a baguette and jam and coffee. Tranh had promised that his friend would come pick me up in a motorcycle taxi, but when a shuttle van pulled up asking for a group of one person to go to Hoi An and accepted my ticket, I accepted. The other people the van picked up were incredibly late, but I got on the sleeper bus okay. In Hoi An, I took the motor taxi to the Little Leo Homestay, only to find out that I’d booked this hostel for the night before instead. Luckily, the homestay matriarch let me stay anyway. I rented a bike and got a map and went around exploring the Hoi An old town. It reminded me a lot of Venice in a way, a town with rivers and boats and yellow-painted flower-filled houses. It wasn’t that fun having a bike, though, because once you’re in the old city, you just want to ditch your bike and walk. It’s just too inconvenient. Most of the temples and tourist sites required tickets and I was just trying to figure out whether I had enough money for dinner and to pay for the hostel at the end. When it became too much, I got a cane juice and banh mi from a roadside stand. I returned to the hostel to get some wifi, and met a Korean friend, Ella. We went out that night to explore the night markets, and Hoi An is stunning at night with all the lanterns lit up (especially for the Lantern Festival). We got dinner of Xao Lau, a Hoi An specialty, and then walked back to the hostel to shower and drink a whole lot of water. There, we met Finnish friend Heidi who had been staying at the homestay for a long time. Both Ella and Heidi had really interesting stories as to their world travels and it was cool to meet such seasoned travelers.

The next morning was my last day in Hoi An and also Vietnam. We had breakfast at the homestay, some fried noodles and “white coffee,” and then I packed and checked out. Even though the homestay matriarch had wanted to charge me for the extra night that my bed went unoccupied, she decided against it. Even with only one night charged, I ended up not having enough cash anyway and had to use my card to pay for everything. I, Ella, and Heidi rented bikes and went to the beach. While I loved chilling at the beach in Dong Hoi because of all the experiences surrounding it, An Bang beach and ocean in Hoi An are objectively more beautiful. We got juices at a stand (so that we could park our bikes there “for free”) and then went down to the beach, where we got beers (or an avocado smoothie, in Ella’s case, so that we could use the chairs “for free”) and chilled in the shade. The water was beautiful and warm and it was the perfect way to finish out my trip. Heidi had met her Finnish kitesurfer friends and continued to chat, but I had to head back, shower, and change. At Danang airport I got one last pho while I waited for my flight. At my transfer in Ho Chi Minh City I got a banh mi and fanta for dinner, and then it was back to Seoul at 6am.

I didn’t mean to write 6,000 words, it just kind of slipped out. I know that I’ll be telling stories from this trip for the rest of my life. I learned a lot, too. Mainly, that trust is important, even when it’s trusting strangers, and when you give yourself over to chance, great things can happen. Or at least, you’ll have a great story to tell.

A toast to going with the flow.

these are a few of my favorite things,

these are a few of my favorite things,

This weekend, I woke up early, and after my customary slow-starting morning where I spend an hour dicking around on social media, I tied on my running shoes and headed down to Han River park for a Saturday morning run.  As soon as I got into the park, however, I found that there was some kind of huge running race, like a marathon, and the trails were off-limits for a while.  Discouraged, I turned back.  It was the perfect kind of day for a run, the kind of weather that we have in the beginning of swimming season right when the pool opens for the summer (as in, nice to be outside, not so nice to swim in fresh-from-the-fire-hydrant water kind of weather).

I had a change of heart a block later.  It was about 9am, why not try to run on the streets?  You’ll find that foreigner women rarely, if ever, run in Seoul, and certainly not on the streets.  It’s useful to shake up the monotony of running with different things.  As it is, since I’m right next to the river, I usually just choose one of two directions and do a quick out-and-back.  Sprinting between blocks and dodging the few other pedestrians waiting for their brunch restaurants to open was a welcome break from that usual grind.  I ran out to my favorite café in Hongdae, but as I didn’t bring any money, I couldn’t have stopped for coffee even if I’d wanted to.  On the way back, the run through the main drag of Hongdae showed me walk-of-shamers returning from long nights out now that it was full daylight, and I also discovered the diligent cleanup crews responsible for making the disaster areas around the clubs look clean and presentable again.  I was refreshed and buoyed up with renewed enthusiasm for my city.  Afterwards, I got to show some of my favorite areas in Samcheong-dong and Insadong to my Irish friend who lives nearly in Incheon and went out drinking in Itaewon.  The next morning, catching hungover brunch with my friend Kevin, the feeling of “I love this city” luckily didn’t diminish all weekend.

As I’ve often discussed, it can be therapeutic to talk shit about people or places, but that’s no way to live your life all the time.  I just finished reading a book about happiness called “The Happiness Project,” written by Gretchen Rubin.  My thoughts on the book itself aside, it gave me a lot to think about, but especially considering the oft-cited quote by G.K. Chesterton, “It is easy to be heavy, hard to be light.”  It is easier to complain and be critical of your surroundings, especially when they’re different from that which you grew up with.  It’s much harder to find delight and charm, and furthermore logic in the illogical things people do in other countries.  As they used to say when I studied abroad in Oz, “It’s not wrong, it’s different.”  There’s a lot more different coming from the U.S. to South Korea than to Australia.  But honestly, most of it is for the better and not for the worse.

Dwelling on the negative makes me stressed, angry, and snappish.  I don’t want to be this selfish asshole who only blames her surroundings for her bad moods.  I want to be grateful and appreciative and strive to be happy, because honestly, being here gives me such joy that I can’t properly comprehend until I leave the country and then return.  I can’t imagine having to leave for good, but I suspect I’ll be taking trips back here for the rest of my life.  It’s enthralling and addictive and life-giving being here, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

What follows is the rebuttal to my drag post of last week.  I wanted to follow it quickly before the karma gods could get me too badly.

  1. Korean food

There’s so much variety here that it’s almost too much to put into a single category, but certainly I’ll write a blog post about all my favorite foods here one day.  Until then, know that there’s a jaw-dropping variety, from grilled meats to soups to poke-like rice and vegetable dish bibimbap, after which my twitter handle is named.  There are certain foods you must eat when it rains.  There are certain foods you must eat when it’s summer.  There are certain foods that you must eat after hiking.  I love all the traditions and the spices and colors.  I think that will be the hardest thing to leave when coming back to the states.  It’s easy enough to find Korean barbeque in the States (although it’s prohibitively expensive unless you live in L.A. Koreatown), but it’s harder to find the perilla seed sujebi soup, the cheesy and spicy chicken dish duk galbi, and the winter treat hoddeok, a delicious honey-filled pancake.  Whatever you happen to be craving, you can find it in this city, whether it’s western food or sushi or Indian food.  My mom has threatened me that I must learn Korean cooking from a proper grandma before I come back, but so far that hasn’t happened yet.

  1. Out until the sun comes up

Everything here is open late.  If you want coffee after a certain time in the United States, you’d better be prepared to make it yourself.  If you want food after a certain time, you’d be best to content yourself to gas-station or diner food.  As for entertainment, after a certain time, you’re out of luck.  Nothing is open.

Not so here.  Time runs a little later here, so you head out to drinking later and stay out until the trains start running again.  Restaurants are open late, cafes don’t close until 11 or midnight, and if you don’t want to go clubbing to stay out all night, the possibilities at arcades and noraebang, one of my favorite hobbies here, are a sure way to pass the time.  If you get hungry, you can get some food at a stall or get some Lotteria (Korea’s version of McDonald’s), which also never closes.  It’s an insomniac’s country here, and this, rather than New York City, is truly the city that never sleeps.

  1. Cafes

It was a struggle not to put this at #1 in the list.  Korea is nearly as famous as Japan for its scores of cutesy theme cafes, and I’ve been to many of them (including the Insadong poop café which I visited last weekend), but that’s only part of the story.  There’s a café for every kind of interest here.  You like animals?  They have not only cat and dog cafes, but also raccoon, sheep, and meerkat cafes.  You like a certain kind of color #aesthetic?  There are pink and purple cafes to satisfy your needs.  Whether you like cacti or ferns, you can find cafes crawling with them.  If you like camping or naps or fishing or nice views, there are cafes catered towards those interests.  There are scores of studying cafes centered around creating a focused environment for Seoul’s many students.  There are beautiful desserts, Instagram-worthy scenes, and quality coffee almost anywhere you go.  In the states, you would be lucky to find even one independent coffee shop as cute as any given café in Seoul, but here, every single café is super cute. (I would cite the website of each of these examples, but that will be for another post).

  1. Hiking culture

In the past, I’ve talked about hiking.  I really think that it sums up all the best things about Korean society in one activity.  Hiking, unlike in the United States, is a hobby for anybody, just hop on the train and get out in front of the mountain and make your way to the top.  It’s a hobby for old and young, sunny and rainy weather.  Instead of everyone’s athleisure in the States being running gear or yoga gear, the go-to athleisure here is hiking gear.  Everyone’s mood is better on the mountain, and many are eager to say “hi” to you (sometimes even in English!!!) and point the way if you’re lost.  Once you’ve reached the top, gotten your selfie, and made your way back down, you can kick back in the little shikdangs (small restaurants) and get some ramen, jeon pancakes, or bibimbap, washing it all down with some makgeolli, as is the way of eating “mountain food” after a hike.  While not everybody is well-versed in exercise culture here, hiking is a pastime that everyone can enjoy.

  1. Service

Koreans adopted the English word “service,” said in the Korean accent much more like “seobiseu,” to describe taking care of your customers so that they will return again.  Not just a sound business practice, it’s also a relationship builder and a really feel-good aspect of living here in Korea.  It often comes in the form of giving free things to customers who are being nice and behaving themselves.  Once, my friend Chris told the story where he was in a little eatery and he mentioned to the lady running the shop that he’d like to buy one of the shot glasses so he could take it home.  He could have easily stolen it, but his good manners prompted the store owner to give him an entire case of the shot glasses, which wasn’t too big of an ask, as she received crates and crates of them as free promotional items, but still a cool gesture nonetheless.  I get free extra time in noraebang all the time and it never goes unnoticed.  Often, the proprietor will plunk down extra drinks or food on your table and announce “service!” automatically lifting the mood of everyone at the table.

  1. General feeling of safety

I’ve done some dumb things in my short, 23-year life, and many of those dumb things revolve around what I like to call the “Simba Complex.”  Remember in The Lion King when King Mufasa tells young Simba, “being brave means you don’t go looking for trouble”?  And then immediately after, Simba decides that that advice doesn’t apply to him and does something reckless anyway?  It’s like that.  That’s why I often find myself doing just slightly dangerous things like walking alone at night in Pittsburgh when lesser humans have gotten shot to death on the same streets.

I contrast that with life here in Seoul.  I do not exaggerate when I say that I never feel unsafe in Seoul.  Or, at least, the times I feel unsafe can be counted on one hand with several fingers to spare.  The only times I truly feel unsafe is when I’m in the foreigner district of Itaewon, to be honest.  You can walk down the street at any time of day or night and count on reasonable safety of your person.

The same goes for your belongings.  Once, I was writing a blog in a café when I got a call from my brother.  He doesn’t call often, so I went outside to receive the call so as not to bother the other patrons.  We talked for over an hour, as is the way with us, and my wallet and laptop sat out on my table in the middle of the café for that hour and nobody touched them.  Even things you want to lose you can’t get rid of.  I had a friend who was trying to quit smoking. Every once in a while, she would buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke only one or two. To get rid of them, she would leave them somewhere, like at a bus stop, so that somebody might take them and she wouldn’t feel bad about buying them.  Returning several days later, she could still find that same pack with all the cigarettes untouched.

  1. Trains!

I’m obsessed with public transport.  When my parents went to Paris this summer, they exclaimed to me, “We used the Metro!! We thought you would be so proud!”  While public transport is partially a cheap young people way to get around in the U.S., it’s pretty much the only way here in Seoul (taxis don’t count, even though they’re far cheaper than in other countries).  The trains here are so effective and reliable, I’ve almost never needed to even use a bus.  But even still, it’s possible to get almost anywhere you want to go without ever renting a car.  You wouldn’t really want to drive here anyway.

  1. WIFI

“Why, why, wi-fi!” the students at my old school would chant, throwing their hands in the air in the shape of a Y.  That really is this country’s lifeblood.  I can’t imagine going back to a place with lesser wi-fi.  In no other place can you survive for months, or even years, without a phone plan.  It’s pretty easy to filch wifi from cafes, restaurants, or even from subway stations as you pass by them on the street.  The phone reception here is insane, too: you can probably FaceTime people from the tops of mountains with absolutely no lag.  (I try to avoid that to keep from sapping all my data at once).  It’s easy to get used to being able to load a whole feature-length movie in seconds, hard to be parted from it.

  1. A culture of creativity

While some things might be a little backward, as far as cultural products go, Korea is on the cutting-edge of the times.  From art to music to fashion, everything here is tightly controlled (for better or worse) and highly branded.  Everyone pays attention to the aesthetic and there is a sharp eye for design in all things, from phone cases to the pencils with coordinating caps that my students use.  My art soul is happy here in Seoul.

  1. Deliver it to me

Anything you want can also be delivered.  If you want McDonald’s or fried chicken, that can easily be delivered to your house at no extra cost (a country that makes their motorcycle delivery boys look like BMX bikers is clearly doing something right).  If you want to buy kitchen appliances or furniture, since almost nobody has large cars, you can get any of that delivered.  If you want to have a picnic with your friends in Han River park, you can easily order the chimaek (chicken and beer, typical summer Han River picnic food) right to your picnic blanket without ever having to lift a finger.

My Korean’s not really up to scratch to order these things, and I still think that for most things that if it’s worth getting, it’s worth me going to get it, but that the possibility exists for anything to be delivered is exciting all on its own.

Honorable mention:

Movie theaters

In my hometown in the U.S., there’s not much to do for fun outside of home.  You can go hang out at the gas station, grocery store, or mall, you can go out to eat, or you can go to a movie.  As such, in my area we see a lot of movies.  This enthusiasm carries on into later life, no matter where you go.  While there aren’t as many western movies to see here, there are enough.  The movie experience in Korea is amazing.  You can go see a show in 4D, which has moving, rumbling seats, flashing lights, spitting water, and wind.  You can get different “couple sets,” like those that feature nachos, hot dogs, coffees, or beers.  Seriously, drinking at the movies is way cool (Koreans turn everything from baseball games to the protests against the former president into drinking events).

Easy-to-read language

It is embarrassingly easy, as a foreigner, to live here for years and never learn much more than you have to of Korean.  But that’s taking for granted the remarkable system of writing, hangul, that King Sejong the Great invented all those years ago.  As far as Eastern languages go, you’re pretty well-off learning to read Korean.  It might not be easy to learn all the different tenses and levels of formality, but to learn to read is remarkably easy, especially compared to Korea’s neighbors, Japan and China.

I don’t think of this often, but I want to take a moment to appreciate the Korean zest for learning languages.  In the United States, unless you happen to be a self-professed “language person,” you probably won’t learn more than one language to any sort of proficiency.  Whereas Koreans love learning and love learning languages in general, even if some of the kids might be salty about having to learn English in particular.  Basically, it’s a pretty good bet that if you’re in trouble someone in the room probably speaks some English, and that’s a huge help.

 

Anyhow, as the song goes, “these are some of my favorite things,” about living here, and why it will be difficult to leave in a little over 10 months.  I’ve already begun my grieving process, starting with a grand to-do list inspired by the one I made when I went to Oz and a 100-day happiness project to keep me positive and appreciative.

10 things i hate about you

10 things i hate about you

Note: if your name is Bonne DuCharme, or actually if your surname is DuCharme at all, do not read this post.  Or if you do, approach it with the same wariness that you would a giant spider.  For the rest, continue.

I wish I had some cool trips to report, some earth-shattering discoveries about life or living here in Korea that I could share to shed some light on my experience.  As it is, I’m lamenting that I’m already a month and a half into my second year here, with the “fresh start,” and it seems as if I have barely accomplished anything thus far.  I should consider myself lucky, with a stable job, nice apartment, and short working hours, I have absolutely no grounds for complaint.  My best friend Erin always comments after these kind of posts that they’re really dark, but that she appreciates that I’m honest in them.  Sugar-coating and gilding lilies?  That’s Instagram kind of horseshit.  I’m only a truther on here.

Less than 11 months out and I’ve already begun to convince myself and my mother that I’m returning to the states when this contract is up.  I’m pretty sure that I will.  Until then, I have lots of major diversions coming up: a trip to Vietnam in May, a revisit from Aidan hyung in June, a visit or several from high school friend Sylvia also in June, and perhaps vacationing with my family in South Carolina in July (uncertain).  In December, it looks like my family is coming here to visit Seoul (hence the warning at the beginning of the post).

It’s hard to leave, and I know I will miss it, but sometimes it is also hard to stay here.  I’m reminded of this every time I see a post detailing the horrific racism my fellow foreigners experience on a daily basis or I see somebody spit INDOORS in the subway.  There are many great things about living here, especially as a young person in my 20s, but right now, here are the best reasons I have why living here can kind of suck sometimes.

  1. Hygiene

Sometimes Koreans’ hygiene is impressive; they are militant about wearing the face masks when they are or might become sick and they brush their teeth multiple times a day (perhaps to the detriment of their tooth enamel, but).  That’s where the good hygiene ends, though.  There might be many moral failings in this country, but my personal pet peeve is everyone chewing with their mouths open, coughing and spitting and sneezing wherever and whenever they please.  That’s okay in your own home, but in public, it’s just not sanitary or polite to be doing that.  I’d rather leave a little bit of mystery than see every bit of food you’re chewing all the time.  The only thing worse than these habits is the fact that everyone denies that they do these things, which smacks of willful ignorance and denial to me.

  1. Vanity

Every country has an obsession with being pretty, but Korea’s takes it to a new level.  In what country do they give plastic surgery as a graduation present because they think their daughters aren’t pretty enough?  I know the attitudes are different toward plastic surgery here, but it’s something else to hear about fourth and fifth graders talking about plastic surgery as a very real possibility in the near future for them.  Ridiculous.  Once you’ve got the face you wanted, you have to accessorize endlessly with makeup.  While in some ways it’s cool being spoiled for choice, it’s insane how many products the average Korean woman uses to stay young-looking.

You can’t ever go in the sun because you don’t want to become darker.  Because, of course, dark is ugly.  And dark won’t match the 80,000 won foundation you bought in the wintertime.  You must always be ready with a pocket hair straightener in case your bangs go flat when riding on the subway (???).  When out with your friends, no matter what the occasion, be prepared to take literally a million selfies to post across all your social media.  (To be clear: I love social media and I don’t mind selfies, but the amount of selfies here is insane.  And it’s not always in scenic little cafes or at cool events, it’s sometimes in dingy alleyways or in line at Costco.)  While I appreciate the aesthetic that everybody puts up, I’m certain it’s not worth the effort.

  1. Bad parenting

I know that somebody who’s not a parent has no business telling a parent what they should do with their kid, I really do.  But, as a current teacher and former lifeguard, sometimes the blatant negligence with which the parents treat their children pains me to the max.  I’m reminded of a story where a foreigner at Costco saw an unattended child walking out in front of a speeding car in the parking lot (parents were nowhere to be found).  He shouted to get the parents attention and saved the kid, but somehow the parents and grandpa ended up yelling at the foreigner, attacking him and blaming him for the incident when really he saved their kid’s life.

The cycle repeats into infinity.  The parents have to work their asses off to earn enough for a big house and comfortable life, so they put their kids in myriad after school programs and academies.  On the days off the parents aren’t so good at parenting, usually much more content to take selfies together rather than preventing their kid walking off a pier into the Han River.  It’s amazing natural selection hasn’t weeded out every single one of these babies already, honestly.

  1. World-revolves-around-me syndrome

There’s an element of this one that can be good and freeing.  But mostly, this is damaging to all around.  Like the foreigner who thought that he was doing right by trying to help someone else, it’s usually best to leave well enough alone.  You see somebody drop their card or something on the ground?  That’s their problem.  You’re leaving the bank as somebody else is coming in?  Don’t hold the door for them, they will only look at you with confusion and bewilderment, not an ounce of thanks.  Somebody’s taking too long to order or scan in their card to get on the subway?  Push right in front of them, they should have been prepared.

There’s an element of this kind of self-defense that is freeing.  Only looking out for #1, or the people in your clique, that makes it a lot easier.  But it’s a lot more isolating.  This is actually one of my main reasons for not staying for another year, or forever.  I don’t want to absorb this element into my personality.  I don’t want to not care about other people.  I want to be nice and help out others, even if it has no discernible benefit to myself.  I would much rather step out of the way on the street than full-on shoulder-check old ladies because they’re too rude to move even a single inch to the side.  Usually I do step out of the way.  But other days, we have shoulder-checking days where I only walk straight, square my shoulders, and plow through everyone in my way.  It’s shitty and impolite but that’s how things are done here.

  1. Why does everything have to be so hard all the time?

Some things here are easy.  Too easy.  It’s too easy to become a full-blown alcoholic or caffeine addict.  It’s too easy to fuel your insomnia or shitty sleep schedule by going to cafes after 10pm (current life).  It’s too easy to get food and furniture and anything you want delivered right to your door without lifting a finger.

Some things, on the flip side, are infuriatingly hard.  For no reason. (Koreans will tell you there is a reason, but really, don’t listen to them.  There is a better way).  In the United States, you can walk into a bank and say “Hey, I don’t know how to write a check, can you help me?”

“Sure, do you know your account number?”

“Nope.”

“Just give me your card and I’ll figure it out.”

Or:

“Hey, I have a whole bucket of loose change, can you count it for me and put it in my account?”

“It might take a little while, but sure.”

In Korea, banking is a nightmare.  Say you want to pay for your plane tickets online.  First of all, you need to enable your card to be used online.  You need proof of employment and a passport and your Alien Registration Card and a score of other things.  You need to create about 5 unique passwords which you inevitably forget by the time the process is even halfway over, making you start again, of course.  And then, nothing works on Chrome, so you must use Internet Explorer for everything, which is absolute bullshit.  I make almost all of my transactions in cash or in person with my card because I still can’t make purchases online with my Korean card, even after more than a year.  In the U.S., if you have a card, you can immediately use it online, at the store, abroad, whatever.  So easy.

  1. Juke & commit

This one is kind of related to #4, but it’s a lot less self-defense and a lot more idiocy.  In the U.S. and other reasonably intelligent countries, if you see somebody directly in your path far ahead of you, you’ll adjust your path by a couple degrees and never run into them.  If you do this early enough, it will be like you never even made the adjustment at all.  Korean method: don’t look up from your phone ever, or better yet, stare right at the person as you plow right through them, coffee or cake box in hand be damned, because your path is more important than theirs.  Most days, I give benefit of the doubt and think, “Okay, that person is in more of a hurry than me, I’ll let it slide.”  But of course the days when I’m in a hurry, everyone else seems to be on a leisurely Sunday stroll with nowhere to be.

Walking is okay because everyone is roughly going at the same speed.  When biking, it’s important to commit to a direction and keep going that way, not swerving.  Koreans are shitty at biking etiquette, I’ve learned (a gripe that didn’t even make the list).  I’ve seen so many almost-collisions on bikes that it ceases to surprise me.  When I’m running on the trails, the walkers stare you down in the same way.  I think to myself, “Do you really want to play this game?  I’m running, I will bowl you over, no hesitation.  This is not a fight you want to pick.”  Usually the walkers spring out of the way at the last second, even though they saw me coming from 100 yards away, outright resentfulness written plain on their faces.  I’m lumping in with this category the driving on the sidewalk.  For cars, usually it’s only to park, but motorbikes and scooters drive for miles on the sidewalks with absolutely no thought to the pedestrians with whom they’re sharing the path.  I’m amazed there aren’t more accidents.

  1. Everything is sweet

To some, this might be a blessing.  But to a red-blooded American who often just craves a salty-ass snack, it seems like an impossible task to find something that isn’t sweet.  Cheetos?  Sweet.  Doritos?  Sweet.  Cheese popcorn?  Sweet cheese.  Garlic bread?  Sweet. (who the fuck decided garlic bread should be sweet because honestly that’s so offensive to my culinary sensibilities).  I’ve heard that Koreans hate our salty American snacks, but I don’t care.  Sometimes you just want something salty, and those kinds of snacks are very scarce here.

  1. Littering is encouraged

This might be convenient to some, but it stresses me out to the max.  There are barely any public garbage cans in Korea, or at least in Seoul.  (They’re afraid you’ll throw your home trash in the garbage cans because you are supposed to buy special garbage bags from your neighborhood store.  Whatever.)  Say you drink your Starbucks iced cherry blossom latte and you don’t want to carry the empty cup with you anymore.   Should you pop into a convenience store and throw it away there?  No need.  Just leave it on any old corner or in a telephone box or on the curb.  Some little old ahjumma will come by a few hours later or that evening and pick up after you.  I suppose this is good that it gives the retired ladies a job, but really just the normalcy of littering here irks me to no end.  It’s to the point where my students even throw things right on the floor rather than putting them in the trash can because they know that somebody will have to clean up after them later (me. It’s me.)

  1. Treatment of animals

My friend Jenn had a roommate last year who decided to get a puppy.  This roommate had no idea how to take care of a dog, how often you should feed or walk it or bathe it or clean up after it.  She didn’t train it, so eventually the dog, living a life of squalor and neglect in its own filth, became angry and lashed out at anybody who tried to pet him.  At long last, the roommate gave the dog over to her parents, who also lived in Seoul, and they agreed to raise the dog properly.  This is a pretty good allegory for how animals are treated here.  They’re only useful as accessories, but the owners usually don’t understand what is involved in taking care of animals.  I’ve seen far too many animals in this country being hit for not obeying orders.  It’s not the animals’ fault that they were poorly trained and have a shitty owner.  (To be clear: I’m not a dog owner, never have been, but I’d rather stay dogless forever than provide a less-than-adequate home for any kind of pet).

  1. Leaving cars running all the time

Seoulites complain about the terrible air quality all the time.  I know an element of that is the evil yellow dust that comes in from China, but a lot of it is also self-inflicted.  You can’t blame all the smog on China.  People in Seoul are TERRIBLE at turning off their cars when they’re not being driven.  I’ve seen people full-on napping in the driver’s seat of their cars while waiting for their companion to return back from wherever.  My street right now is a hotbed for idling taxis and trucks waiting to be called into service.  I hate how much fuel they’re wasting just on being able to charge their phones and listen to music in the car at the same time.  It’s so irresponsible.

Honorable mention:

Street layout

I know exactly why this came to be, that of course Korean streets are never laid out in a nice grid, usually extending in a sort of spiderweb from the palaces, with the more action-packed streets situated exactly one street back from the main thoroughfares, but it’s nearly impossible for a foreigner to navigate if you’re not familiar with the area.

Cheese

Everything is labeled cheese.  Almost nothing actually IS cheese.

Workout culture

Koreans are all really skinny and look really fit, but most of that is just good diet and high metabolism.  When actually in the gym, most are just walking at a leisurely pace on the treadmill or lifting at the plate machines, often with absurdly bad form.  My friend Matt is compiling a video slowly of all the crazy things he has seen weightlifters do at the gyms here.  I’m sure the video can go on and on all day.

Couple culture

Please ignore this as I’m just being a bitter single person here.  But it’s really impossible to be a single person in Seoul.  Not that everyone is trying to hook up all the time, but rather it’s frowned upon to not be part of a couple.  Everyone walking around holding hands, snogging, wearing the matching clothes, talking in whining voices in the café or subway.  Korea is not a friendly place for single people.

 

Take all of this with more than a couple grains of salt.  I really do love being here.  It’s easy to blame my bad days on the place and the people rather than myself, whereas back in the States, with no language barrier, I’d have no one to blame myself usually.  I don’t regret a single ounce staying for the second year.  Most of my sadness stems from this frustration with the place preventing me from getting out more and making the best of my time here.

Immediately following (within a day or so max) is a part 2, of sorts, or 10 things I love about Korea.  I really don’t hate it here, promise.

everything works out

everything works out

I’m still trying to figure out exactly what I want to do, but it’s definitely not this.

I told someone all of that recently and they said, understandably, “…and you decided to stay?”

Hmm, well.

Yes.

It’s possible that I would be much happier elsewhere, doing some other work.  It’s possible that I’m really not cut out for any of this and by this time next year will regret this a lot.  But it’s equally possible that some other place would be worse.  Or most likely, another place would just be different, with its own ups and downs.  So why not take a chance and really make something of my life here?  Happiness isn’t going to fall into your lap when you change locations.  You’re not going to suddenly find the “right” place where everything works out.  Some places are certainly better than others, but basically you will always have to fight for what you want.

About a week ago, after moving house from my old place to my new place in my favorite neighborhood Hapjeong, I took a break from organizing my things to catch a few drinks at my friend’s favorite bar, which happens to be right across the street from me now.  It’s amazing to live in the cool neighborhood you once had to take a long journey to reach.  At that time, my house was just a big empty furniture-less, wifi-less box.  While it was everything I had wanted, it was more than a little depressing at that stage.  So naturally I went out for drinks.

The bar is literally underground and run by surfer-aesthetic people covered in tattoos with raggedy long hair.  It smells like incense and smoke inside and you’re careful not to speak too loud because you don’t want to interrupt the vibe to be heard.  It is Curtis’s favorite bar, but last time Julia and I went, we got absinthe (and I had forgotten that I don’t actually like the taste of absinthe).  Curtis and Julia used to work with me at the old school, but for different reasons, they both left early.  So here we are celebrating getting out of our kind of toxic work situation and heading in different directions.  Any gathering of this sort requires a great deal of shit-talking about the former job, speculation on what’s going on now with the new coworkers, and what all the old coworkers are going to do after their contracts are up.  At one point, Curtis commented to me something to the effect of, “You know, it’s pretty amazing that you seemed to be pretty unfazed by all the shit that went down.”

All the complaining and shit-talking, I would participate in it, maybe, but overall I didn’t really let it get me down.  Perhaps it was literal ray of sunshine, Maxine, who kept us all afloat.  Perhaps it’s a love for country (here) that the other coworkers lacked.  Perhaps it was the thought of a new job that kept me going on in spite of it all.

It’s been a pretty wild ride this year, and it seems like it’s not likely to calm down in the next year.

Midway through January, I probably took one of the most interesting trips of my experience here.  I had not made any cool, high-flying plans to go to other countries for the Lunar New Year, or Seollal, vacation, which is wise because travel in this part of the world at that time of year is a nightmare.  But I’d had a vision to go to an island.  I found a travel group that was going to Geoje Island, the largest island in Korea after Jeju Island.  I like these travel groups because they take the planning aspect out of the equation, giving you options to do whatever you like or just lounge about or go drinking or whatever.

I almost didn’t go.

I almost missed the bus leaving at 6am from Noksapyeong.  Every other person thought ahead and took a taxi but I thought it would be cute to take the subway.  Luckily, they held the bus.

We arrived in Geoje after traveling for most of the morning on the bus.  I’d entertained thoughts of just letting the bus leave without me and going back to bed, but I’m glad that they held the bus for an extra 20 minutes.  Geoje Island is a starkly beautiful place, even in winter when we went.  We were told it would be much warmer than Seoul, and while it was marginally warmer, it wasn’t, say, shorts weather as I’d expected.  But the warm sun felt good on your face and it was a nice break from the biting seoul winds which rip down the long straightaway streets like a hurricane.  The landscape looks a lot like New England in the states or maybe Nova Scotia, big pine trees and rocky beaches.  We didn’t get to properly enjoy many of the things Geoje is popular for because kayaking and ATVing are more summer pursuits and it was still quite cold when we went.  Nonetheless, it was nice to be able to get out of the city for a while and make some new friends.

On Friday after the rooms were distributed we had South African vetkoek (fat cake), which is basically a fried donut-like roll with curry inside and spicy fries on the side.  I had never expected to learn so much about South Africa on a trip in Korea, but as the tour group owner was South African and my roommate, Hilary, was too, I inadvertently learned a lot about the country from them.  We ate on the bus while we were touring round the island.  We saw a beautiful black-stone beach where all of the stones were polished smooth and flat.  The sound that the waves made as they rushed over the stones was so surreal that I never wanted to leave.  Each stone was a perfect skipping-stone or paving-stone; they didn’t even look real.  Nature is so cool.  After that, we also saw a windmill, which is apparently very famous on the island.  We had the option to “hike” down to that windmill (in all, a 20 minute walk and not at all difficult) and then got to play on the sea cliffs a little.  I met some new friends, and we talked about the struggles of teaching and what we were planning to do for the next year.  Things are a lot less nebulous for you when you like your school and/or are head teacher.

When we returned from the island tour, we had also consented to go on the sunset cruise.  This, too, I almost bowed out of because I’ve been on probably one too many “sunset cruises.”  Again, I’m glad I decided to go anyway.  We took the bus to the marina and then boarded two boats.  To be honest, they were small little fishing boats, but they got the job done.  While a bunch of guys from a Saudi company took the bow of the boat, we made ourselves comfortable at the picnic table at the stern.  It was freezing cold in the wind but we all had concealed soju and beer in our jackets, so that kept us warm.  Our boats darted in and out of sea cliffs and pillars and through huge flocks of seagulls resting in the water.  The sunset was fantastic.   On the boat, we made friends with some Irish teachers, Diarmuid and Rachael, and had lots of laughs.  I’m always a little wary about these kind of trips, that I’m bugging the people I’m with, but these guys seemed pretty genuinely kind, which I feel is rare.  It’s even rarer to open up in the first day of a trip to people you’ve never met.

That, I felt, was the highlight of the trip for me already.  When we returned, it was time to braai (South African for “barbeque”).  It took ages to set up, as there were many people to coordinate and lots of different moving parts, and we were all starving.  We ate all of our sides and drank our convenience store beers in record time, while waiting for the preparations to be complete.  We got mussels and scallops and shrimp, but my problem is I don’t like any of these things.  I made a deal with the Irish friends and still got them (on the offchance that I might actually like them… I didn’t.) and then gave them the shellfish I couldn’t eat (which was all but one of them).  I keep trying and keep hating shellfish.  I consoled myself by telling myself that there was steak coming!  We had pretty big steaks that we were all allowed to grill over the open fire.  We were basically barbequing in one of the minbak (bed and breakfast) garages, all open-air.  It took ages to grill the steaks, as maybe 15 people were vying for space on the small and inefficient grills.  Not to mention, many of our steaks were frozen.  We couldn’t see in the dark, so we took our chances with food poisoning as we ate the steaks.  We kept making trips down to the maejeom (convenience store) for more soju and beer as the night progressed.  The group attempted to teach me how to play “King’s Cup,” a drinking game to which every single player had been taught different house rules.  We also had a ludicrous amount of rum and coke, rum being left over from the enormous orange vat of “jungle juice” the tour group had prepared for the braai.  There were stunning overtures of friendship and promises of future visits to home countries made.  Everybody is so much more earnest and generous when they’re drinking.  As we stood warming our hands over the dying barbeque fires, we watched some fireworks over the beach.  Someone in our tour group was setting them off.

Needless to say, it was a night of far, far too much drinking for me.  I can maybe only do one good night of drinking a week, and that was it for me.   I was really sick the next day, partially from drinking, partially from staying out in the night air cold all night, partially maybe from food poisoning.  Saturday was rough.

Since Saturday was Lunar New Year, we had the traditional breakfast of japchae, sweet potato noodles in a sesame oil and soy sauce dressing, ddeok guk, flat circle rice cake dumpling soup with seaweed and beef, jeon pancakes, and kongnamul bean sprouts.  My stomach was not having any of that.  While the other kids went ATVing or to the spa, I was hoping that a walk in the fresh air would cure my condition.  It took most of the day but it eventually worked.  I walked down the beach and up to the pier, hoping that I could get a climb on some of the cliffs.  In my kind of sick state, though, I didn’t much trust my ability not to fall down and hit my head, so I ended up not climbing anything.  I had been reading Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons at the time, so while I got a mocha at the sunny and peaceful second floor of Don Quixote Coffee, I read and enjoyed the sunshine.  I thought it would be unbefitting to fall asleep in the café, so I ended up going down to the beach for a nap.  They only give out one key per room in the minbak, you see, and I was not the lucky key-holder that day.  After some sleep, I felt marginally better and met new friend Shane at the GS, where we ate ice cream and those “Nacho” brand chips.

We headed out to Jisimdo, one of the outlying islands from Geoje, after that.  I had the feeling that on a nice summer day, Jisimdo would be a bustling hiking area, and missing the ferry back to Geoje would be no big deal, as there were many guesthouses and cafes and restaurants dotting the hillside.  As it was New Year’s Day, none were open that day, so we had to be sure to catch that last ferry back.  Shane and I walked around, exploring the old Japanese battlements and trails.  We had picked up long bamboo spears somewhere and were swinging them around dramatically as if we were in some old samurai anime.  Near the end of that adventure, I did get really dizzy.  Maybe it was dehydration or still food poisoning, but I was feeling really bad as we were getting on the ferry back.  Back at the accommodations, I took yet another nap and was restored to full health!

On Saturday evening, we were scheduled to go “bar hopping” in Okpo, which is the main town area in Geoje.  I’m always wary of stuff like this on trips here, because—while it might be cool and novel to go out partying for many, who might live in remote little towns that don’t even have a single noraebang to boast, or if not, then on military bases—it’s not all that novel or cool to someone who actually lives in Seoul and not outside of it.  I’m made even more wary when they describe it as a place with “lots of foreigner restaurants.”  As it turns out, the “suggestions” that they made, everyone either ignored or only listened to one single one, the one for the Indian restaurant, so 60 of us shuffled in all at once to this restaurant on Lunar New Year night when the restaurant only had 3 on staff.  You can probably guess where this is going, but basically we were the last to order as the staff ignored us for upwards of half an hour to even take our orders and then it took another 2+ hours for our food to come.  Somehow we bullied our way into a discount.  I’m glad for friends who can take matters like these into their own hands.  I’m the sort of confrontation-avoidant person who would never say anything and just lose two hours of their life with nothing to show for it.  We were expected to go out and drink at the little bars surrounding Okpo after that, but after all the waiting, I had no desire to stay in that area for even one more minute.  Plus, I was averse to ingesting any more alcohol that weekend, unfortunately.

We woke up Sunday to clouds threatening to rain and headed to breakfast, which was “the full English,” always a treat.  We emerged from the minbak after breakfast to find a steady downpour.  The weather was just nice enough that I just walked over to the area where the cafes were to wait out the rain, if I could, and if not, to wait until it was time for the bus to go.  I hung out in a café and ended up meeting the Irish friends, who had come in for brunch, having missed the tour group’s breakfast.  We shuffled back to the bus after that, stealing the ideal seats in the back, elevated so we could see all the way down the aisle easily.  The bus stopped after a few minutes to pick up the tour group members who had gone to Geoje seaworld that morning and then we headed on to Seoul.  We hatched a plan with the Irish friends and American friend Colton and his girlfriend Yoojin, to go out for dinner (huge bags in tow).  I’d suggested, since we got out at Noksapyeong station, that we go to one of my favorite café-bistros, Fat Cat, but it turned out to be closed.  We instead got burgers bigger than our faces at a place called Burgermine (there are about 3-4 burger places within spitting distance of Fat Cat if you ever happen to go and find it closed) and made plans to see one another again.

In between saying goodbye that time and the next time I saw them two weeks later, I had interviewed for the next year’s jobs and begun the narrowing-down process.  My future was a lot more certain after two weeks.  We had hookah, drinks upon drinks, and stayed out until the train started up again at 6am.

It’s been about a month since then.  I haven’t been avoiding the friends, per se, but it’s hard to commit to staying out until 6am.  My old lady soul protests to it unless there’s copious amounts of food or coffee involved.  My life is a whole lot more certain now that it was even a month ago.

Spring is a good time to reflect about old things dying and new things beginning.  That’s why I’m kind of grateful that the school year here starts in March.  It’s the perfect time for a new beginning.  The anger and stress and bad feelings all die with the cold weather and peace returns on the calm spring wind.

Near the end of the old year, not only were all of the students acting up like crazy—perhaps on some subconscious level understanding that they’d never see most of us again—all the teachers were going crazy, too.  Everyone leaving became lazier and more spiteful. Things seemed to speed up exponentially as the new teachers came in from Canada, Australia, America, and we had to attempt to fit a year’s worth of our learnings about how the job works into a few days at most.  The social scene at the end when everyone is leaving is fun, tragic, and hectic.  Everyone tries to fit all of their “lasts” into a single week.  It’s i n s a n e.  It’s so sad because some of these friends you know you might never see again in this life (in person, that is), at least not without the huge difficulties of crossing oceans.

It’s sad saying goodbye to humans who mean a lot to you.  It’s also sad saying goodbye to places that mean a lot to you.  I’m so incredibly grateful that I don’t have to say goodbye to Seoul for another year.  As I took my run last weekend, I was struck again (as I am nearly every day) by how beautiful this city is, how lucky I am to live here.  I’m already becoming sad at probably having to leave it, and that’s 11 months in my future.

In the meantime, I moved into my new job, the after school working only 5 hours a day in Dangsan-gu, just a short one-stop ride away from my home right next to Hapjeong station.  I found a perfect little loft (being short, lofts are perfect for me) which is exactly equidistant from Hapjeong and Sangsu, which leaves me situated in literally my favorite neighborhood in Seoul.  I’ve almost completely decorated the new house, which is fun but difficult, being an adult, y’know, but now the space really feels mine.  I do almost all my own cooking and have to manage my own affairs much better, now that my boss or coworkers aren’t right there to solve all my problems for me.  Every problem seems magnified when you can’t just lean back in your chair and ask 10 people who have had the same problem before.  But I think this year will be a tremendous year of growth.  It’s also a bit lonely so far.  I’m great at making friends, but I’m horrid at going out and finding friends, especially given the language barrier.  So we’ll have to learn to break through that.

Looking forward, I’ll continue to better manage the new house, find some Korean lessons so that I can really get more out there in the community, and keep discovering more and more about my neighborhood and my city.  I’m so happy and excited to be here for another year, loneliness be damned.

 

A toast to embracing the loneliness, using it as medium to create something new everyday.

 

 

let that be enough

You don’t need more motivation. You don’t need to be inspired to action. You don’t need to read any more lists and posts about how you’re not doing enough.

We act as if we can read enough articles and enough little Pinterest quotes and suddenly the little switch in our brain will put us into action. But, honestly, here’s the thing that nobody really talks about when it comes to success and motivation and willpower and goals … : you are as you are until you’re not. …

You don’t get to game the system of your life. You just don’t. You don’t get to control every outcome and aspect as a way to never give in to the uncertainty and unpredictability of something that’s beyond what you understand. It’s the basis of presence: to show up as you are in this moment and let that be enough.

You don’t need more motivation or inspiration to create the life you want. You need less shame around the idea that you’re not doing your best. You need to stop listening to people who are in vastly different life circumstances and life stages than you tell you that you’re just not doing or being enough. … You need to understand that what’s right now becomes inspiration later. You need to see that wherever you are now is what becomes your identity later.

Years from now, when I’m on the right side of the CMO desk, I will tell my employee (younger, fresher, more afraid than me) the parable of catch up the schedule.  I will be able to laugh about it then, as time has dulled the pain and outrage to not as keen a slice.  Until that time, I’m allowed to be salty for a little while.

I don’t like to complain about work and stay positive most of the time, but here’s now the parable goes: once upon a time, the month before Christmas, we had a paper full of schedules and instructions dropped on our desks.  This was in lieu of having an actual meeting to explain all of these things because the management can’t be bothered to have face-to-face meetings with us teachers most weeks.  Most of us were more concerned with the practicalities of the upcoming special day and open class at the end of the month, so a small, short item was slipped in that everyone seemed to understand quite well: “catch up the schedule.”  At least, nobody seemed to require any clarification on this item.

We had “Compassion Day” at the end of the month, which required our kids and their parents’ participation in fundraising for “little kids in Africa” (let’s not talk about the problematic nature of the relative “white savior complex” our school is promoting).  We also had Open Class, which is the most nerve-wracking day of the semester, where the parents come in to watch their kids in class.  In theory you just teach a “normal” class and want to show the parents what their kids are like in school, but in reality it’s designed to make the parents feel good about their kids each being the smartest in their class, and designing flashy, work-intensive games to entertain the parents and then practicing the answers so that everyone seems perfect that day.  Also during Compassion Day, since it was near Christmas, each class had to pick a festive song and train the little ones to sing it perfectly and dance a choreographed dance (ours was “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”).  We also had report cards and scores of other grading from elementary school tests at that time.  What I mean to say was, the month of December was busy as hell.

This small command fell by the wayside, until it started to become a problem.  See, everyone on our side of the office took this item to mean “catch up the work you haven’t done yet because there are tests and special days at the end of the month, so finish anything that you’re behind on.”  What we were supposed to have understood but nobody was told was that it meant “get ahead of the schedule since the fourth graders are moving to fifth grade and the parents will be sad if they see empty pages in the students’ books.”  The Korean teachers were mad at the foreign teachers for not understanding this poorly-worded sentence and the foreign teachers were mad that they were expected to read the Korean teachers’ minds as to the future plans of the fourth graders.  My personal solution was: I went into my fourth grade grammar class and asked, “Okay, raise your hand if you think your mom or dad would be sad that there are blank pages in your book.”  Nobody raised their hand.  One kid volunteered that there are already blank pages, and another supplied that his mom has literally never seen the inside of his book.  So that settled it for my class.  The other teachers were not so lucky.

This is a long story for a very simple moral: communication is key.  If we could have had a meeting to iron these things out, a lot of time and frustration on both sides could have been avoided.

There are bad things in every workplace.  Some more than others.  I can go on for days about how I don’t like how things are always sprung on us last-minute, how the foreign teachers are treated as simpletons who can’t follow simple directions at best and with stalwart contempt at worst.  I can tell you about our shitty apartments or how every request is met with abject annoyance by our vice-director.  I can tell you about the endless communication problems between the Korean side and the foreign side (although me and my co-teacher Miss Tiffany seem to be the exception) and our vice-director straight-up badmouthing us foreign teachers to our Korean coworkers.  Our problems are not real, you see.  All foreigners do is sit on their asses all day and complain, if you can even call them “teachers,” you see.

It’s really easy to get bogged down in that negativity.  It happens to me once a day.  It’s easier than breathing to be consumed by the complaints and the mental noise that forms when you’re in a constant state of anger.  I see some people consumed by that anger day-in-and-day-out.  It seems exhausting.

When I ask the kids about feelings each morning, almost none of them are angry.  What is there to be legitimately angry about when you’re so young?  Almost all of the kids are feeling happy and excited every day.  I try to make it clear that there are many kinds of excitement, because there are so many things to be excited for.  Excited for snack time.  Excited for the weekend.  Excited for their next birthday.  Excited for next Christmas.  Excited for the next time they can pet a dog or see a movie.  That’s a good way to live.  My favorite emotion is chill.  The second-to-last emotion is always chill.  I do a wall sit on the wall and cross my right ankle over my left knee, hands clasped behind my head, eyes closed, and let out a long-suffering sigh.  If I’m not feeling chill, I tell the kids, they should all be very scared.  But also very nice.  When I ask the kids about feelings each morning, the last one is always confused: “Raise your hand if you’re confused.  ‘What’s my name?’ ‘Why am I here?’ ‘What am I doing?’ ‘Where am I going?’ ‘Why is it February already?’”  I’m feeling the most confused now.

Why am I here?  I’ve been having to answer that question more and more these days.  I came because in summer of 2015, applying for those marketing jobs, to fulfill my “destiny” as it were, I could never really bring myself to send out those applications.  Something stayed my hand every time.  Being both enrolled in Korean classes at the university and also a former-English-writing-major-turned-English-literature-minor, several people told me “hey, you should think about teaching English in Korea.  You’d like it.”  I shrugged it off at the time, but the idea took root and sprouted over time.  Now, just over a year ago, I’m still trying to see if this was the right path for me.

Why am I here?  So many signs say that I should dislike it.  Chief among my concerns was my disdain for the supremacy of the English language worldwide (just because I like the language myself doesn’t mean everyone else should have to learn it).  I don’t like that everyone else in the world is expected to learn at least English if not a myriad of other languages, while the Americans just laugh it off and say, “Oh, they’ll just get a translator.”  I don’t like that the kids are worked to the bone here, even from kindergarten age they are shuttled to and from classes and academies until late in the night, where they then have to do homework until the wee hours of the morning.  It’s hard work getting ahead.  I don’t like the focus on tests and quantification rather than understanding and practical knowledge.  I’d rather the kids be able to understand and talk about the book but not have anything tangible to show me than to have a packet of perfectly completed worksheets and no knowledge of the material we just learned.  I hate that the students are so beat to death that even by the time they are in first or second grade, all the creativity is drained from them, so the only thing they’re capable of doing is perfectly copying the lines written on the board and looking for the answers in the book, rather than thinking and understanding for themselves.  I hate that when told to write a story, they don’t even have the creativity for that, so accustomed are they to just copying and pasting what they need to write.  I hate that all the wonder is so sapped from them that I try to talk about space or cowboys or princesses, things that should interest them, but instead I get blank stares.

“Okay, but, why are you staying if you hate it so much?  Why are you here?

A non-answer: there’s something valuable about being a minority, especially when few of my kind of privilege can experience being in this position.  It makes you both more empathetic to the plights of others, and also makes you care a little less about your own self-righteousness and your own social standing.  Whatever you do, no matter how long you’re here, you’re just another foreigner.  It would be the same whether you’re a tourist just visiting for a week or a student here for a year or some foreigner who’s lived here for years and holds a Korean passport.  We all look the same to the Koreans.

And a real answer: I really do like teaching.  I did not expect to like it that much, but there’s something so satisfying about rephrasing your explanation in a different way and seeing it finally stick.  There’s something so satisfying about watching your students improve throughout the year, being able to do things at the end that they couldn’t have even dreamed about at the beginning of the year.

There is a terrible moment when your student says something incredibly stupid-sounding and you wonder, “Why has nobody taught them better?”  Or they say something that’s incredibly insensitive, either racist or heteronormative or queerphobic or any number of other ugly traits, and again you wonder, “Why has nobody taught them better?”  That’s what I call a “teaching moment.”  You realize that this is why you’re here, this is why they brought foreigners rather than using Korean teachers.  You bring a perspective that is different and much-needed to these kids, especially when their parents have taught them some downright damaging things about the world around them.  This is the time when you have the chance to make a difference.

I really do like the kids.  When you’re sick or angry or hungover and feel like the earth should just swallow you up in one piece, a well-placed cute comment or a kid hugging you round the middle and saying “I love you, Miss Georgia,” can melt all of your troubles instantly.  The kids’ joy is so pure and they can be entertained by watching the same video (like the songs from “Moana,” for example) over and over again for a month.  It’s really amazing to see the kids who could barely tell one letter from another at the beginning of the year to be able to read full stories with seeming ease by this time.  It’s a really fulfilling job sometimes.

In September-October-November I was thinking about having to go back to America. (This was before the election results which made this even more unpalatable than before.)  I thought to myself, “Man, I really don’t want to go back just yet.”  And then, “Well, is anybody really making me go back?  No.”  My parents were surprisingly understanding when the news that I was staying came their way.  Of course, I’ve been saying that I’d switch schools since around that time, and I procrastinated finding the new position until only a month remained…

If you’re thinking this is a good idea, don’t.

I, of course, was not worried by this delay, but everyone around me demanding the play-by-play on my plans?  It was the people around me who actually spurred me into action.  The last week of January was a flurry of activity and my own complaints about updating my resume, writing cover letters, and getting passport photos done.  The very next day, I sent 5 emails and got 5 requests for an interview.  Within 24 hours, I had 5 interviews (two via skype on the Friday and the next day, 3 in-person interviews).  Within 24 hours of that I had 5 job offers on the desk.

In the United States these days, especially for young people, you become accustomed to and come to expect to send out many, many job applications, have many interviews, and never get a call-back.  Mostly just throwing your resume into an uncaring void.  You rarely get an offer, let alone having multiple offers to juggle.  You even send out applications to the less-desirable places just so that you might have a job at all.  It’s not so in Korea.  At least, for English speakers it is quite easy to get a fairly decent job.  Here, it seems, the recruiter doesn’t request an interview unless they’re all but prepared to give you an offer.  The interview is mostly to confirm what they already know and to iron out the contract details.  I don’t think that I’m exaggerating much when I say that I will probably never have as life-affirming a job search process as the one I’m currently in the midst of.

Consider this:

Job A: in a decent area in Seoul, Yeoksam, the school is in a literal house that they bought and renovated, with cool little lofts and attics and slides and stuff for the kids to play on.  It seems like a really cool environment and all of the teachers and management seem really nice and close-knit.  Good pay.  Shorter hours than I work now.  The other teachers will help me find what I need, like churches or post offices or swimming pools or Korean lessons.  The downside is that I have to plan my own lessons, which adds to the amount of work significantly but would also be more like a “traditional teaching experience” and therefore more fulfilling.

Job B: it’s an afterschool position, which means that I go to a public school after regular classes are out and teach the kids there.  The hours are literally 12-6.  Time is one of your best assets on this earth and the sheer time that I would have to do other things is alluring.  The better quality of life that will result from this situation is more DIY than the other one.  The curriculum is already planned for you so all you have to do is implement it.  Low brainpower.  Downside: there’s only a housing allowance so I’ll have to find my own place, but hopefully I’ll be in a good area that I like, such as Sangsu, my favorite neighborhood, so that I can afford to have a decent apartment.

They release the list of schools hiring afterschool teachers tomorrow.  After that, I’ll have my decision for next year.  Tomorrow we have the “graduation” field trip for kindergartners and the level test for elementary schoolers.  In the evening I will eat dinner, smoke hookah, and drink buckets of questionable cocktails to celebrate coworker Stephanie’s birthday.  Sometime in that mosh pit of events, this list will be released.  I will accept one offer and will have to turn the other down.  At this point, I’m not quite sure which I will choose.  I leave you now on a cliffhanger.

A toast to having options but still being completely unsure of what lies ahead.