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.