Month 1: August
I felt like a goldfish in a bag with dunked in a new tank with new water—I was adjusting: temperatures, surroundings, everything was going to be new. At first, the weather in Korea made me suffer and I despised the “night neck sweats”, sweating under my chin and my growing stubble annoying me when I tried to sleep. Eventually I moved into my apartment and even that took getting used to: there was no bathtub, all my clothes would hang dry, and now I had a fridge which meant figuring out a regular diet/eating routine. I was constantly getting lost.
My mind was freshly imprinting new landmarks, streets, and indicators: turn left here to get to work, take this street to get to Otto’s house, go this way—it’s a shortcut. I was constantly meeting new people, new students, administrators, and I knew no Korean. Within the first month I learned “thank you,” “hello,” “goodbye,” and “I want…” I was a simpleton in a complex land of deference and unfamiliar smells.
Without resisting I dove into the Korean food, mouth open, and the only food I refused to eat was raw steak—no way. Raw fish, sure; kimchi, down; sea snails, bring it on—but I can’t do the raw meat. My cranky bowels adjusted and I ate out constantly. Money was tight, I hadn’t been paid, but I operated with the hopeful notion of a soon-to-be-delivered monthly paycheck.
My closest friends, Otto and Ace, saw to it that my birthday was satisfactory and we adapted to our jobs. Our training, turned out to be insubstantial, and I found myself desperately trying to learn the way my English academy operated. But, I realized, that this job was no different than any other job I had had in my past: no matter how much training I might get, I am only satisfied and comfortable after I learn the lessons for myself and actually start working.
Month 2: September
September was cooler but it started out hot (I also started this blog in September.) Eventually the weather became so moderate that I found the “night neck sweats” disappear and I didn’t need to use the air conditioning either. That new goldfish feeling wore off and the grooves I had been fashioning were deepening with repetition: I knew how to walk to work confidently, I finally figured out how to get to Otto’s place, but my Korean was stymied…I hardly learned anything besides random words, cuss words, and interjections (“A-sa!” is similar to “hurray;” “I-go,” is something like “I’m pained” or “oh god;” and “hall” or “har” are something like “uuhhhh,” but not in a good way.)
I was going out more: I found a café I liked, some restaurants that served food I liked (and I wasn’t nervous about ordering,) but Otto and Ace were definitely more independent than I was. Perhaps it was because they were both older and well-travelled, but I didn’t try to keep up with them; I knew I had to go at my own pace and I really couldn’t match their rate of adaptation. I was comfortable, but not settled, while they seemed to be molding to the environment perfectly. At no point was I regretting my decision to come to Korea, but, at times, I wished I was more adaptable and knew Korean.
My house was stagnating and I was getting desperately low on money because the soon-to-be-delivered monthly paycheck did not materialize as it should have and it became the I-promise-next-month-starts-the-full-paycheck-this-month-you-get-half-paycheck. I perfected the art of making ramen, ate kimbop & apples for lunch, and tried to eat out as little as possible. My co-workers were warming up to me and I was trying to figure out where I fit in at the office: of course I had my friends, Ace and Otto, but there was such a diverse spectrum of people that I found myself making numerous faux pas. It couldn’t be helped, but I was learning.
The English Academy lost its stress-factor and it became “the grind,” a job more or less. I was getting used to how I was supposed to act with my students depending on their ages. I looked forward to working with the older students, they could speak English better and I could communicate with them best, while working with younger students who didn’t understand English was difficult. I battled this Korean mentality, which students have, of being quiet and not-speaking constantly: I encouraged my kids to participate (I gave them candy if they did.) I danced and sang to make them smile, laugh, or look at me with that half-cocked-confused-puppy-dog face—anything to evoke some kind of emotion other than dreaded silence.
Month 3: October
Giants baseball…Giants baseball…World Series… What an experience? (How about that bull pen?) The playoffs were broadcasted on OBS (a Korean TV channel) and I would wake up in the mornings, usually 7:30am, to watch my Giants battle and eventually win the World Series. In my pajamas I yelled like a hooligan whenever Ross, Renteria, or Uribe sent a ball over the wall. Rest assured there was a proud Giants fan cruising the Suwon streets with the Orange & Gold SF hat and a huge smile.
October was an incredibly emotional month for me and I was fragile in this new environment. I couldn’t confide in my friends, we weren’t that close, and at times I was a nuisance with my incessant line-crossing, sarcasm, and dependence. Despite this, I was still having a blast, and trying to become a stronger individual: seeking self-improvement, writing e-mails and reaching out to old friends, trying to talk less and listen more. By the end of the month, Halloween, I was constantly reminding myself to be considerate of others and it paid off: I felt less in the hot-seat and grew closer to more of my co-workers. I also got paid.
October 31st was Halloween, but hardly any of the Halloweens I remembered from home: no door-to-door trick or treating, no outrageous college parties, although there was still some dressing up. At my English academy, we decorated the entire building in cobwebs, black paper over windows, and although it wasn’t spooky it was an attempt. The kids loved it. They dressed up, asked for candy, and, even though the drudgery of academy work loomed near in the future, they were happy to put paint on their faces, do the limbo, and eat some Hi-Chews. I bought a Batman mask, which was a child’s size (surprisingly, not the second time I made this mistake: ask friends about last Halloween, my pirate outfit, and my belly.) So, I decided to sport a gorilla mask for the rest of the Halloween festivities; I made a couple little girls cry, but this was only because I was a natural gorilla, a pro really.
The weather changed and my windbreaker at a point became too little against the big chill that came over Suwon. Luckily there was a giant jacket in my closet, left over from the last tenant, and I donned it without hesitation—it passed the “it-smells-clean-test”. The giant jacket saw many wild nights once it became a feature of my apparel and if the jacket could talk—I’d strangle it immediately.
Month 4: November
I feel like a resident here, it took me 4 months to get to this point. I know enough broken Korean to get around, I still have trouble in taxis, but I’m working on that. Overall, November was a volatile month of apprehension, frigid weather, and the ending of my first session at the English academy. I, finally, got to see what the entire process of teaching was like—one complete session—and I was overwhelmed when it was finished. I just wanted to sleep at the end of November. I wanted to hibernate like a bear: dig a hole in the snow, bury myself, and then sleep until the cold was over. But that wouldn’t be a possibility because school would start again on December 1st.
Of course there was the North Korean attack on this tiny Western island, Yeonpyeong. At first I was scared that my time in South Korea would be cut short, but based on locals’ response I realized that it was just another incident that didn’t faze them. I tried to be unfazed as well, but family members and friends came out of the woodwork to check on me and I wasn’t as confident as I thought. I was just as concerned as they were, maybe more, and the more we talked about it, the more nervous I got. Eventually the whole thing blew over, people stopped bringing it up, but I felt emotionally vulnerable.
One day in the middle of November, after finishing a really long book, I came out of a coffee shop and looked up at the sky: it was snowing. This was my first time seeing fresh snow fall from the sky. I looked at the ground, there was no snow on it yet, and I looked back up—oh man, this is it! I thought. This is the first snow of winter! With what I can only describe as “the return of boyhood enthusiasm” I embarked on the funkiest James Brown steps, tongue out—catching snowflakes. Of course it was cold, but that was 24 years in the making folks, and I got to move.
