travels and trappings

it's a living

2009-06-30T07:32:00.000-07:00

This is my job and these are my babies.

Don't be jealous.

single lady

2009-04-30T07:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I got a new class of Intro kids. These students have completed lots of phonics classes with Korean teachers at my academy. My class will be their first experience with speaking English exclusively for forty minutes. They are often quiet that first day, hoping to mask their panic with politeness, I would imagine. (They get over it by the way. Sometimes in a matter of minutes, the little monsters.)

After doing my best to put them at a little ease, I opened the floor to questions they might have about me or the class.

Little Yuna raised her hand.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Oh, how I love this question. And, oh, how my students love asking. It (or its first cousin,"Are you married?") is second in frequency only to, "How old are you?" I'm bracing myself for the day one of them asks, "How much do you weigh?" or "Do you have a substance abuse problem?"

"No," I answered

"But." (Yuna seemed confused) "You are beautiful!"

I didn't know whether to feel shamelessly delighted at her flattery or exasperated at the familiar assumption that the unpartnered are, by definition, flawed. I smiled and shrugged and tried to settle for somewhere in the middle.

I mean, I'm the first to champion Beyonce's sentiments (not to mention her dance moves) regarding the defense, nay, celebration of being alone.

But who'm I kidding? In my experience, it's more like:

Yes, I'm a single lady.
And no, there's nothing wrong with me.

Which hardly has the same ring to it.

You'll pardon the pun.

from the English Diaries, volume 1

2009-04-15T07:53:00.000-07:00

My students keep English diaries and write in them for every class. I give them a topic, usually based on the story we read that day and they give me three to five sentences.
I often encounter unintentional linguistic gems that I simply must share.

In Janet's class, we read a story about Shakespeare. Her diary topic was something like: what Shakespeare plays do you know?

Her response:

Mack Bass
Osarro

(wait for it)

King of Rears

some of my favorite little things

2009-02-02T08:12:00.000-08:00

Seoul buses. They are bright green and kinda creaky. I spend three days a week commuting a 40 minute round trip. Something about them soothes me. They are the perfect reading spot. The drivers tend to be polite maniacs. I have more than once fallen into an unsuspecting stranger when the bus stopped suddenly, as it does at least 12 times on any given ride.

People singing to themselves as they walk along the street. As many of you might easily imagine, when I was a child I broke into song without warning. Often loudly. Typically in full character. Usually quite oblivious to anyone who might hear. That little girl giggles in recognition and fraternity with the spontaneous singers in this country.

Kimchi. It’s spicy fermented cabbage. The traditional Korean dish. I’m crazy about it, much to the delight of my Korean friends.

The two handed wave. There’s an implicit openness and enthusiasm that’s difficult to articulate. And totally wonderful.

“See you.” It’s the most common form of goodbye among English speaking Koreans. I’ve never known a native English speaker to use this phrase but it’s become a part of my personal vernacular. Because it’s delightful.

The grunt of assent. The word for “yes” among friends sounds like this: “uhng.” No need to open your mouth. I love it.

The coffee shop in my neighborhood. I have a crush on the middle aged man who owns and runs it. He roasts the beans in house and prepares each cup individually. Often when I’m drinking a cup, my skin tingles. I’m not exaggerating.

The unexpected and bizarre compliments my students pay me. The other day Cathy said she thought I should be a jazz dancer. When I asked her why she said “You are tall and thin.” I was speechless. People, I am in the land of beautiful doll-like creatures we’re all supposed to believe are merely human women. I am a giant here. Is this sweet child delusional or what? The strangest is when my 5 year olds say things like “Sarah’s body is beautiful” (Nora) and “You are sexy” (Lucy). I’m not making this up. It’s odd. It’s hilarious. It’s one of my favorite things.

Confessions

2008-12-14T06:51:00.000-08:00

1. I frequent the Starbucks in my neighborhood.

All I can say is judge not lest ye be judged. Before I lived in Korea I often and loudly judged my fellow countrymen who left the United States only to seek out American companies abroad.
Well now that I’m an expatriate, things look a little different. I mean, sure Starbucks is the devil, but sometimes the devil is the only thing around that feels like home. And sometimes the devil is the only place you can get a decent soy latte.

2. I have broken the Korean trash laws.

I will say this much in my defense: garbage is complicated.
When I first got here I was informed that everyone is required to sort waste into trash, recycling and composting. Which is great. But when you don’t understand the language, the process can be confusing, if not daunting.
For the first three weeks I lived here, I put my garbage (illegally mixed together) in black plastic bags and dropped them in outdoor garbage receptacles. And it wasn’t easy! There is a startlingly low number of public trash cans in Seoul. Seriously, I had to scout them out. And then there was the moral angst of knowing I was breaking the law and hurting the planet in one fell swoop. It was exhausting.
You’ll be glad to know I now sort my trash like a good citizen. But for a while there, I felt like I was a walking metaphor. Carrying my garbage around, trying to unload it, terrified I would get caught. I’ve also been struck by how much is disposable in our world today and how easy it was for me to feel disconnected from my own trash at home.

3. I make my students give me Korean lessons.

Well, I never said I wasn’t an opportunist. And anyway, they love it.

4. I ate squid.

It doesn’t taste very good. I have eaten the occasional bite or two of fish in the last month. It’s been awhile since I’ve had anything non-vegetarian. I’m looking to broaden my experience a little.

5. I teach my students slang.

My favorite so far has been “Why ya gotta be hatin’?” I also tell them to “simmer down” when they are being too rowdy and exclaim “Oy Vey!” when one of my students forgets his homework. They say all of them now and what’s more, use them appropriately. It’s delightful and hilarious.

6. I drink beer.

If I have failed to shock you with my confessions thus far, I’m guessing this one just did it. In fact, I’d expect more than a few stories of falling out of chairs and choking on coffee.
I know. Those of you who know me know I never drink beer. That I hate it. Well, now I don’t. Neither do I love it. But I’m tired of there being a list of things “Sarah doesn’t do.” I’m tired of limiting my experience by things I believe define me. So I’m throwing them out. A few at a time.
And I’m beginning with beer and squid.

Kids and the darn things they say

2008-11-10T06:34:00.001-08:00

I would discourage budding narcissists from teaching English in South Korea. And as a practiced narcissist, I feel my advice should be heeded.

My first day to teach a class by myself, I had been in the country less than 24 hours. I was jet lagged. I was overwhelmed by the newness of things. And I was faced with students to whom I wanted to be an inspiration. I pictured them breathlessly telling their parents about the first day with their new teacher.

Kid: (in Korean) I don’t know, Mom. I just get it now. English is clearer to me than it’s ever been. Here’s a sonnet I’ve composed to capture my feelings about this incredible woman.
Mom: (in Korean) Gee.

So imagine my disappointment when, at the end of my last class that first day, my student Julie (who had appeared highly impressed with my teaching methods) said, “Teacher seems nervous.”

Nervous?! I think you mean poised, you little bitch. I just got off a plane! I had no training! Nervous? Your mom seems nervous.

Meet Julie.
(I was pretty sure a visual would make the “bitch” comment twelve times funnier. Now lighten up. I forgave her.)

Then there’s my other Julie. She was in middle school and was intensely hesitant to speak. I would often try talking to her as if we were a couple of girlfriends hanging out over coffee in hopes I might coax some complete sentences out of this very sweet girl. It tended to do the trick and one day I was rewarded with the following dialogue:

Me: I like boots.
Julie: Me too.
Me: Tall ones?
Julie: Mmmm...
Me: Like (lifts leg and indicates just below the knee) this tall?
Julie: Oh. Not so high. My legs are too thick.
Me: They’re not!
Julie: (wistfully) I wish I had teacher’s legs.
Me: (flips hair) Oh, Julie. (flips hair) Don’t be silly. (flips hair) They aren’t that fabulous.
Julie: .....
Me: (flips hair)

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Finally! Korea is beginning to catch on to the wonder of Sarah’s beauty.” Yeah, that’s what I thought. Until I met Betsy.

Betsy is five years old. The first day in her class, I was meeting all these darling little bitty ones. They were so sweet and seemed infatuated with me and my hair. Everything was going great. I was sure I was glowing. Then Betsy, from the back of the class yells, yells, “You have a fat face. You are fat!”

Did the other children rally against her in my defense? Shout, “Betsy, are you mad? Have you seen the woman’s legs?!”

Not quite. The three or four girls nearest her started chanting, “You are fat! You are fat!”

I blinked. I tried to smile. But this small person had just knocked the wind and its accompanying pretension right out of me.

And I felt my remarkably large face go bright red.

Connected

2008-11-01T04:50:00.000-07:00

I lost my job.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Allow me to provide a little background.
When one moves to Korea to teach English, one is required to go through a somewhat lengthy process to attain a visa before leaving America. This visa is sponsored by one’s employer, in this case, the school. Also, most schools provide housing for their foreign teachers.
So, two weeks ago, I got to work and was informed that my school (7’s English Academy) had been bought out and would be closing its doors the following day. Which meant I was losing my job, visa sponsor, and apartment all in one day. And after having been in this country exactly two weeks. Have I mentioned I don’t speak the language? Well, now I don’t want to exaggerate. I can say “hello” “goodbye” “thank you” “I’m sorry” and “meat”. I say “kogi” (Korean for meat), make what I imagine to be an expression of mixed terror and disgust, shake my head and then smile sweetly. Sometimes I get blank stares.
But, I digress. The point is I was homeless, jobless, visa-sponsorless and across the world from people sensible enough to use English to communicate and not to add pork and/or beef to everything. (and I do mean everything)

Lucky for me, I immediately began getting rescued right and left. There is a network of expatriates, recruiters, and Korean haegwon employees here that is not unlike the mafia. Really. I kept turning around to find someone shrugging and saying “Ehh, I know a guy.”
By the end of that week, I found my biggest problem to be choosing between five job offers. Good ones.
I chose last week and signed a contract with my new school on Thursday. I start this Monday at Eby’s Talking Club. I’m staying in my current apartment until the middle of November then moving to my new place. Eby’s is not only in the same building as 7’s, it’s on the same floor and down the hall.

This shift is, I believe, a good one. For a couple reasons. I made some friends at 7’s, with whom I plan to remain in contact and I taught some great kids. But it didn’t really feel like a good fit. At Eby’s I already feel more at home than I did at 7’s.
There’s also nothing like being without a job in a foreign country to shake cobwebs from the ole noodle. (sorry for the mixed metaphor. I hope you're not eating) I was approaching my new life in Korea in typical Sarah fashion: “What does it all mean? Who am I now? Oh, look at the way the light is hitting that tree. Now, that girl is wearing some fabulous boots.” I guess I’m trying to say I feel a little more focused. A little more connected to the ground, now that I’m on the other side of such a sobering adventure. Which also means I’m feeling more like myself. And for that, I’m deeply grateful.

Incidentally, if you’re thinking of moving to Korea, gimme a call. Cuz, uh, I know a guy.

First Impressions

2008-10-19T02:39:00.000-07:00

Which should always be taken with a little salt. Especially from people who think they know lots of things. Like yours truly. I’ve been here exactly two weeks. So, what the hell do I know? I’m so glad you asked.

South Koreans love coffee. (or, I should say, espresso, 'cause you don't really find drip coffee here anywhere) I frequent a bagel/coffee joint across the street from work and next door is another coffee shop which is directly across the street from a Starbucks. Turn right at the light and you pass three more shops (at least) before the end of the block.

They also love fried bread. Fried everything. On every corner, there is at least one (sometimes three or four) deep fryer on wheels. The craziest product I have witnessed from one of these vendors was...well, I’ll let the picture I took of them speak for me.

That’s right. You are seeing a hotdog covered in french fries, all on a stick. I was struck speechless at the sight. This is in Dongdaemun. There’s an enormous flea market here. (Incidentally, this picture is illegal. The vendor waved my camera away, insisting on no pictures, but it was too late. If teaching English doesn’t work out, perhaps I’ll become an international spy.)

On the weekends, the subways are filled with middle aged women in hiking boots and backpacks. Filled.

One of these days I may just follow them to see where it is they go.

There is an interesting energy to this place. I’m finding the Korean approach to everything to be one of precision. Even down to the way the servers at restaurants tie a bag of take out food. In general, I find there not to be a sense of hurry driving anything here. Which is not to say things move slowly, just with less frantic energy behind them.
That being said, there is also a characteristic pushiness here. Just without the attitude I’m used to in a city this size. It’s as if it’s nothing personal. I genuinely think the several people who have literally pushed me out of the way on the street or in the subway would be surprised if I expressed offense. They’re not trying to make a point (which is what a New Yorker would be doing), they just want to get by.

Koreans are also an affectionate group. I see friends holding hands and arms all the time. Even men. Even grown men. I am touched and refreshed at the sight.

I’ll close with a few pictures of some new friends.

Zac (from North Carolina) and Donny (from Nova Scotia). The other foreign teachers at my school. This is in Nowon. Lots of westerners in this area and, therefore, they have lots of things westerners enjoy. Like guns. Don't worry. They are aiming at balloons. And I don't think they hit any of those.

Michelle, Christine, Me, Kelly, Alejandro, Cindy.
I really blend in here. The women are the Korean teachers at my school. As you might have guessed, these are their English names.

Korea's first impressions of me? Well, Christine told me I look like Cameron Diaz and Kelly thinks I look like Kirsten Dunst. I laughed heartily at these compliments. I couldn't help it. And it really makes me wonder: do all white people look alike?

Some pictures

2008-10-11T08:47:00.000-07:00

Because the public demands them. Here are a few to get you started.

My first morning in Seoul (complete with wet hair). My apartment.

This is a better view. You can see the loft above the kitchen where I sleep. It's cozy. But I can't stand up in there. And when I sit up on my bed, my head almost hits the ceiling. I feel a little like a giant. Or like I live in a tree house. Maybe both.

So, the picture is posed. But this is where I always sit. I was sitting there last night and thought, "I should take a picture of this so the folks at home can see where I am when I'm writing to them." The window looks out on another building, but if I lean to the right, I can see the park that's in front of my apartment.

The green fence I pass every day on the way to work.

Sheesh, I've gotta get to sleep already. And you need to decide what's for lunch.

I write from tomorrow

2008-10-11T06:21:00.001-07:00

And I'm not being poetic. I live in Seoul, South Korea now and am therefore 14 hours ahead of you. I hate to sound smug, but I’m from the future.

I've been here for almost a week. It's interesting to feel suddenly cut off from the world I've always known. The night before I left the country, I told a dear friend I felt like I was about to disappear.

During my layover in the Minneapolis airport, I called a handful of my nearest and dearest (otherwise known as my speed dial). I experienced intense comfort from the knowledge that their voices were a mere five seconds away. And then I felt a little light headed from the simultaneous realization that these were the last few hours this would be true for a long time.

My hope in moving across the world was to leave behind what I had known. And in doing so, to discover (as my friend Caleb put so well) what it is within me that doesn't get lost in translation. It is both terrifying and thrilling to be getting what I wanted.

Today I had lunch at a little diner in my neighborhood. The waiter brought my food and I started eating it. He came over a few minutes later smiling and bowing and offering to help. He was trying to tell me to add sauce from a separate dish and stir everything together. I wasn’t getting it. So he took my chopsticks and spoon and did it for me. I looked over at an a older woman peering at me from the kitchen, smiling. A server at the cash register giggled in my general direction.

I smiled at them, feeling like a child and not really minding. I figure in many ways I’m beginning something new. I’ve said goodbye to what’s familiar and am looking the unknown full in the face. That’s enough to make the description “child-like” feel pretty damn fitting.

And anyway, I’m fairly certain they were laughing with me, not at me.