Somewhere, Beyond the Sea

     

     To think, 3 weeks ago I was getting off a plane in South Korea. As cliché as it sounds, it feels like yesterday and yet, it feels like a lifetime ago. This whole time I’ve been in orientation, going to class after class to learn about Korea, its culture as well as how to teach. I was so afraid I had bitten off more than I could chew, and the people that surrounded me were intimidating with how they seemed to just fit in amongst the landscape. But with each class, something was changing.

     Before I knew it I was greeted by my mentor teacher, the first person I’m supposed to communicate with should I have any questions or concerns. I was nervous as all get out, chugging sugary coffee like I was about to be shipped to backwater China, hoping to settle my nerves. I dressed in one of my nice skirt outfits from Japan, praying that my gut was right and that Korea and Japan had similar dress etiquette, and when her name was called I greeted her with a smile and a polite bow I also hoped Japan and Korea shared. She smiled warmly and awed at my clothes, making me take a deep inner sigh of relief. Thank you Japan for saving me once again! But that was when she spoke. “I don’t know English.” I listened to the sounds of my fellow TaLK scholars merrily chatting away with their mentor teachers, some in English and some in Korean since they knew it, and just kept smiling. “I don’t know Korean,” I greeted back.

     The two hour car ride to my apartment consisted of me whipping out my Korean phrasebook and taking a crash course on learning how to speak and read Korean. I had studied some whenever orientation calmed down enough to where I could squeeze in some language learning time, but honestly I only knew how to say, “hello,” “thank you,” “yes,” “no,” and “I’m hungry.” You can only get so far with those words. By the time we reached the apartment, I had thankfully upgraded to being able to say various question words, if I liked or disliked something and basic directions thanks to listening to my teacher’s GPS voice system throughout the drive. Thank God I did because when I got out of the old elevator and walked into my new home…I could turn around and tell my teacher how much I loved it.

     I had an image in my head this past month of where I’d live. I pictured a hut in the middle of a rice field, the stars being my light, the river being my bathtub and my only link to civilization being the wireless internet that flows throughout all of Korea regardless of how boofoo you are. But I also had another image, one of what my dream apartment would look like, a cozy thing with a kitchen and full of flowers. I would have a balcony looking out at the mountains Korea’s covered in, and at nightfall see the city lights dance like stars alighting from the sky. And in the morning I would be able to walk down to the nearby fresh market and taste the salt in the air from the nearby ocean, listening to the sounds of trains whizzing by just begging me to ride them to places unknown. When I walked into my apartment…I almost started to cry. I didn’t get the hut in the middle of a rice field. I got my home by the sea.

     I couldn’t stop dancing. I twirled and twirled, not caring how dizzy I got as I squealed again and again in Korean how it was so CUTE, how I LOVED it, how thankful I was that this was where I would live. My teacher just laughed, looking at me in absolute amazement. In her accented English she said, “But it’s old.” To which I answered, “That’s part of its charm.”

     The whole affair wasn’t perfect. We quickly learned that my internet wasn’t working, and at first she was just going to leave me there stranded till I started teaching on Monday. But, I held my ground and politely asked her for help, explaining via phrasebook that without internet I’m truly alone and won’t be able to call for help if anything happens (since I don’t have a phone and my Korean is lacking). Thankfully she stayed and several phone calls later got the internet working before finally insisting that she needed to go. Since then, I’m still a bit in shock, trying to get my bearings as I learn how to live here. Thus far my only major problems are I don’t know how to turn on my hot water, nor my gas stove, but those are hardly worries on my mind. I just have to look at the flowers on my wall and the nightscape out my window and a content smile rests on my face. It’s only been a day and I already feel at home, in my cute, flower apartment between the mountains and the sea.

Yes I Can

     If any of you know me, you’ve probably wondered why I’m in Korea. Usually I’m carrying on about Russia or Japan, the two loves of my life, with Korea merely being a side note attached to the end of a footnote next to an asterisk. I’ll admit, Korea’s not the first country that comes to my mind, nor has it ever been despite me being a lover of the Pacific Rim. But then again, as awesome and successful as Korea is, they really do like to keep it quiet. They’re like a hole in the wall diner serviced by your secret grandmother, offering delights your taste buds couldn’t imagine, but the only way you can find this place is by knowing someone. My someone is the TaLK program as a whole, as I’ve been involved in a month long orientation to teach me about Korean culture, history and everyday life. But why would Korea spend that much time on me before sending me out to teach its children? And why would they want them to learn English in the first place? I thought Korea was just like Japan, requiring everyone to study English as part of their general education. But there was more.

     If I could sum up what Koreans are after being here for under a month, it would be passionately hopeful. Some 50 years ago, you would find a Korea divided and ravaged by war, its people some of the poorest in the world while their resource poor country was a mangled mass of overturned dirt and leveled towns. But now when you look at Korea you see Samsung phones, Kpop bands and the 2018 Olympics host. In such a short time Korea has become a leader in economics and education, even giving my love Japan a run for his money when it comes to technology. Koreans don’t say this was a work of luck, however. Rather, they say every single success they have they owe to the blood and sweat of the Korean people as they tirelessly strove to do what the rest of the world thought was impossible. I’m honestly convinced the word “can’t” doesn’t exist in their dictionary.

     What does this have to do with English, though? The answer is everything. Korea believes that one reason they’ve come so far is because they pushed their children to learn English, one of the most widely spoken languages of the world, particularly in the business and technology fields. As much as the Koreans love their language, they know that Korean isn’t going to become a world language anytime soon unless they start having kids like rabbits and find room to place all these said bundles. And so, the Korean government started a national curriculum which included English. With English it’s believed that Koreans can go anywhere and do anything, thus making them more competitive on the world stage. This has caused English language fever in Korea, with the government spending 1/5^th of their ENTIRE budget on education, particularly English. This has led to the creation of “global villages” where native English speakers are hired to live in towns where they speak English to Korean children who sign up, several TV shows and internet websites 100% devoted to English language learning, and programs like TaLK bringing native speakers over and into the classroom. Parents are so driven for their children to succeed in English (and ergo have a better life than them) that some will spend thousands of dollars a MONTH in after school classes and tutors. This has unfortunately created a gap between the rich and poor classes when it comes to getting into college (there’s an English language requirement) and so the government is trying to even the odds by sending more native speakers into the rural areas (i.e., me). Korea didn’t become great because of a select few, so why have a select few succeed purely because they can afford it. It took the hope every Korean held that things would get better. All you have to do is forget, “I can’t.” Not a bad mindset, if I do say so myself.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

     When I first headed off to Korea, I was full of excitement. It’s been over a year since I’ve been abroad, and that inner travel nut was going mad with withdrawal. When I reached O’Hare airport in Chicago, I had the most ridiculous smile on my face as I listened to airlines calling for people to board their flights in thick, heavy accents, or would catch snatches of Russian as a Russian family whizzed past me. There’s just something about airports that make me feel so excited and at ease, like I’m going home after a long stay away.

     When I reached the international terminal, I was most amused by a grand hallway of various flags of the world, their colors seeming to greet my arrival. I was even more amused when I spotted the Korean flag right next to Russia’s, hopefully the next country I will study in. When I found Korean Air to pick up my ticket, I was greeted by four young, well dressed guys, all of them working the graveyard shift for this final midnight flight to Korea. I asked, “Which one of you would like to help me with my ticket?” And how did they respond? By the traditional game from their youth, rock, paper, scissors of course! Asia just loves that game. After catering to my every need, I began to wonder if Korea might just one up Japan in my head as the best place for customer service. When I got on board the plane, it was no longer a wonder but a fact. Cute flight attendants constantly checking to see how you’re doing. Warm, succulent meals always proceeded by warm towelettes. And slippers. Yes, I flipped out over getting comfy slippers for my 14 hour flight. I was very entertaining to the flight attendants, let me tell you.

     An overnight flight later and I found myself in Seoul, South Korea, or rather a tiny island just off from it where Incheon International Airport lies. Our flight had arrived early, but even at 3 am in the morning you still saw people going to and fro, businessmen catching early flights, janitors tidying up the airport, and a handful of fellow internationals also teaching whether it be in Korea or neighboring China. Having beaten the TaLK people I plopped down next to a big TV and felt nothing but nostalgia as Detective Conan, an extremely popular Japanese anime, played in Korean. I was so close to Japan, I could almost taste the melon soda and hear the merchant’s cry of “irrashaimase!!!” But this is Korea, and it actually wouldn’t be wise of me to just spout off in Japanese. Unfortunately the two countries haven’t had the happiest of histories as whenever Japan starts getting those urges to become a military power, Korea is usually the first place it invades. And Korea being the knowledge loving, farm driven, peaceful nation was always turned into sashimi. Just think Athens and Sparta, but more Asian and less naked men. However, they are trying to make amends, and seeing a Japanese anime playing in Korea is just one small sign of that.

      Several hours and a couple of thoughts of, “Am I the ONLY TaLK scholar here?” later, a mob of TaLK scholars appeared along with Koreans who were in charge of getting us to our orientation location at Korea University. I don’t know if this is a Korean thing or a Korea University thing, but these buses are some of the most tricked out buses I’ve seen. Not only did we have a flat screen TV and a water dispenser, but all the seats and roof of the bus were decked out in fancy silk fabric and tassels. Then, when the bus took off, the ceiling lit up with several tiny, multicolored lights dancing about. I have officially dubbed these the magical nightclub buses, and keep waiting for a disco ball to appear one day.
     Jazzed up buses aside, other things I instantly noticed about Korea was the smell. In China it smelled like thick petroleum. In Japan it smelled normal. In Korea, be still my heart, but it smelled like food, the scent of red chilies and marinating meats wafting in the air. Korea is a foodie country if their ever was one, something I could get used to real quick. Korea also drives on the right side of the road, something that actually threw me off. My mind was already prepped for Korea to be like Japan and basically every country not the US where they drive on the opposite side of the road. Guess I won’t have any of those moments where I’ll be watching a car drive by and wonder why in the world that 5 year old kid is driving. And laughing his head off. And not watching where he’s going. However, I have noticed unlike here traffic seems to not pay attention to stop lights, the rules of the road being dictated by the immediate four cars around you as it is in China. They didn’t even bother with putting stop signs in.

And so, already a few hours in, Korea is becoming this strange place that at times feels like Japan, then at other times China. However, I have the feeling that as I immerse myself into it more, those almost comforting familiarities will fade away, being replaced with this so far alien country. Korea. Land of the Morning Calm. And magical nightclub buses.

Just Jump

     Have you ever jumped off a cliff, or just anyplace high? You climb up, thinking how fun it’ll be when you reach the top, but with each step you take you feel a fear growing in the pit of your stomach. What if I slip? Don’t look down. You’re not going to fall. Just don’t look down. Then you reach the top, the whole point of the climb being so you can enjoy that thrill of jumping off it. But then that feeling in the pit of your stomach finally overtakes you, and you freeze. Even breathing becomes difficult as you worry just one little move will send you over the edge. Jumping doesn’t sound like so much fun anymore. It’s falling. A fall that maybe you won’t get back up from. Then you hear voices, the voices of your friends and family who have already jumped or are right behind you. You’re going to be fine, just jump. Even if it stings when you hit the water, just jump. You worked so hard to climb this far, just jump.

     When I reached Seoul, South Korea, waiting alone for my ride from the airport, that’s how I felt. I was frozen. I had come here as a TaLK (Teach and Learn in Korea) scholar, being paid by the Korean government to teach English to children in rural communities. I had been excited when I heard I made it, literally dancing and screaming in joy the second I got the e-mail, and the day I left for Korea couldn’t come fast enough. But then, when I got here, surrounded by a language I didn’t know and a culture I had barely studied, I really started to question whether I could do it or not. Did I climb too high?

     I have been to Asia before, China for 5 weeks and Japan for a year. Those countries I knew before I arrived, having studied their history and fallen in love with their languages and cultures long before. But Korea was always that other country, the country drug into my Chinese and Japanese history books before breaking free from their grip to continue with their peaceful way of life. I knew kimchi was all the rage, this angry red mass of cabbage and chilies being Korea’s version of French fries and pizza when it came to popularity. I knew Taekwondo was the national sport that I could have studied in my home town and learned how to kick really high. And I knew the Korean alphabet, a jumble of circles and lines. Short from that, I knew squat about Korea. But that’s why I came.

     If I’ve learned anything from my travels it’s that no matter how much you study the country, you can never really learn about it until you actually go there. And so, though frozen on top of that cliff, I knew I would have to finally jump. Maybe I had climbed too high and my landing wouldn’t be the most graceful, but I would learn from this jump. I would experience having jumped. And when all is said and done, at least I jumped in the first place. I’m a TaLK scholar in Korea, the Land of the Morning Calm. Care to jump with me?