Forthcoming Attractions

Today was my parents’ wedding anniversary. On this day, 25 years ago, they both had the courage to stand in front of their family and friends, proclaiming that they will be togethet until death do them part. And, despite my father having a growing collection of birds and my mother becoming increasingly addicted to crime shows (attemping to find the perfect murder so she can copy it, she says), they remain happily married. And I hope they do so for another 25 years, at least.

However, it got me thinking about my life, and what is happening or about to happen. As of now, Kristen and I are looking forward to meeting up with an Ultimate Frisbee friend before work on Thursday morning. This weekend, we will be heading out to the other side of South Korea to witness the cherry blossoms blooming in all of their natural beauty. Next month, we might go to the beach. While these are all likely to be amazing experiences, they don’t really compare with what they experienced: having a wedding on the horizon.

I think it is indicative of how society has changed over the 25 years since my parents got married. While, back then, you were expected to, to paraphrase Cat Stevens, find a job, settle down, and get married (if you wanted to). Now, it is possible to travel to the other side of the world to teach your language to small children without being thought of as too much of a mad person. Or maybe you are all judging us behind our backs and sniggering, and I only feel supported because of confirmation bias, disproving my point entirely. I don’t think that the latter is the case, though.

Whatever the case may be, Kris and I are definitely reveling in our time here – each experience in South Korea is filled with a sense of wonder. Whether it is travelling around the country or something as simple as watching the cherry blossoms flower in the trees on our walk to work, we know that they are opportunities that those who raised us did not have the chance to do when they were younger.

They were too busy providing for us, taking care of us, and making sure we could have opportunities like this. I can only hope that one day I can do the same for my own children. Thank you, mom and dad. Without you, I wouldn’t be here. I hope that I will one day be half as good a parent as you are. Until then, I’ll cherish every flowering plant, every game of Frisbee, every bad day at work. All because you made me the person that I am today.

Accused

Just when we were beginning to settle into life in South Korea, we were hit by a broadside from the parental body of the country. On Thursday, Kristen arrived at work to find that three of her regular students simply had not pitched up for school. Puzzled by this, she asked our supervisor where the kids were, and was solemnly led to the director’s office. She was there told that one of the parents had contacted the police because they believed that Kristen was physically abusing the children.

In South Africa, being accused of child abuse is a serious deal – it is not something you do lightly. It is something you do with proof. Apparently in Korea, it is something that can be done on a whim. The mother had no evidence (because Kristen would never hit a child) and yet she still went straight to the police. While the normal channels would be to first contact the school to attempt to address such a concern, one woman decided that her case was special enough to circumvent these channels. In reality, all she was doing was accusing the teacher least likely to abuse children, and causing her severe emotional pain.

While Kristen will not have any legal consequences come of the incident because she is entirely innocent, it was an utterly humiliating and embarrassing experience for her. She was questioned by four police officers. They could not speak English, so our director had to translate for her. Questions like “Do you know about child abuse?”, “Do you ever touch the children?”, and “Do you ever hit the children?” abounded. I am amazed at how strong Kris stayed throughout that whole day – while she did not look cheerful, she didn’t show how much she was crushed inside. And I admire her for that.

When we were walking home, she opened up, and I saw how truly shattered she was. Thursday was the first day after the first week where we have legitimately contemplated going home, and leaving it all behind. But we didn’t. We chose to keep going – we have a future in our heads, and not even some inconsiderate, mentally unstable woman flinging about wanton accusations is going to get in the way of that.

Luckily, the days since then have been relatively free of emotional stress. Friday was Easter, and was filled with the requisite amount of hunting for sweet treats (although the children were given candy as opposed to chocolate, which felt a little wrong to me), and passed without incident, although Kris’ missing children did not return. Today was mostly filled with relaxing, watching Glee, and losing more DotA. However, we broke out of our hermit cave twice, to hang out with one of our co-workers and to meet some people with whom we shall soon be playing Ultimate Frisbee. They both assured us that what happened to Kris was a freak occurrence, and that while parents were rarely positive, they generally let teachers do things their way.

These assertions and the return to relative normality helped ground us again, and give us some helpful perspective on the situation. Nevertheless, it will remain in the back of our minds as we go forward, keeping us aware of everything we do, lurking like an unwelcome guest at a birthday party, waiting for the right moment to make our experience unpleasant and awkward. Hopefully the circumstances never again arise, but if they do, we will be more prepared, certain in our innocence and resolved to put it behind us.

Dolla Dolla Billz

After a rather rambunctious weekend (by our standards), filled with board games, going to see ‘Chappie’, and a few games of DotA2, Kris and I sat down and realized that we were almost at the end of the money that we came to Korea with. Through everything from getting our apartment ready, to attempting to eat at as many restaurants as possible, we were left with a little under the equivalent of R500. Luckily, the point at which we realized this was our first payday.

While we had hoped that we might not use all of the money we came with, the fact that we reached the end on payday was a combination of unique planning and unexpected costs. We had planned for things like buying linen and small appliances, but some of our staple food cost more than we had thought it would. Simple things like peanut butter, bread, and jam cost between 3-4 times as much as they would in South Africa. Thinking about it for a little bit, we realized that sandwiches were not a Korean staple food, and were likely imported or made using imported resources. We then got smarter, and started buying rudimentary ingredients for the local dishes that we had enjoyed. Items like noodles, dumplings, and curry mix were far more reasonably priced, and our living expenses dropped as a result.

All of our learning as we go brought us to yesterday, where we both received our first job-related income (Christmas present money doesn’t count, no matter how bad your family is) since November last year. Up until yesterday, we had been expecting to be paid in cash, as we had not yet received our Alien Registration Card (a kind of dompas for foreigners in Korea) which is necessary for many things, including setting up a bank account. Or so we thought. At our lunch break yesterday, our director poked her head into the teacher’s lounge and informed us that we could set up a bank account with our passports alone. Kris then went with her and set it up. While we do not yet have a bank card, we have a bank book, a strange relic from a past age. We are to place the bank book in an ATM machine and then use it as you would a bank card, but it prints every transaction that you perform onto the book itself. It is a mystifying item to me, and I haven’t quite broken down how it works yet.

What has been broken down by the bank account, however, is my dream of throwing large wads of money around the apartment, Wolf of Wall Street style, and laughing at the zeroes flying around my head. I suppose I could draw the money from my account and still do it, but it seems a little wasteful and inconvenient.

So, after setting up our bank account and finishing our day at work, Kris and I set out to finish the last remnants of our money from back home, so that we could start afresh with our salaries. We enjoyed a scrumptious dinner of jjimdak (a whopping great pan filled with steamed chicken, cheese, potatoes, and happiness) and managed to find a wonderful, small chocolate bar that served white hot chocolate, a rarity in our town. With our stomachs full and our throats warm, we walked into the night. We might not know what is going to happen in the remainder of our time here, but from now on, we’re supporting ourselves. And it feels good.

Home is Where the Zef is

Last night, after another week of the children, myself, Kris, and some of the other teachers of the school ventured to watch Chappie. To the majority of the teachers, it was simply an interesting depiction of what could happen if artificial intelligence could develop into artificial consciousness. To Kris and I, it was a welcome glimpse into our home on the other side of the world.

The story is set in 2016 Johannesburg, our home town. I shan’t spoil the story, because I think it is a movie well worth your time. Go out and experience it – Neil Blomkamp’s style continues to be like no other director. The incredibly zef atmosphere created by everything from the casting of Ninja and Yolandi from Die Antwoord in prominent roles, to the set design filled with neon and cutesy sitting next to loaded, golden machine guns makes for a unique experience. While it is not a perfect film, it will certainly make you feel something, or various things, which makes it worthwhile.

What Kris and I arguably enjoyed the most about the film was the city it was set in. There was never more than a couple of minutes between Kristen or myself leaning to the poor soul next to us, saying “That highway is the road I took to varsity everyday.” or “That is only about 5 kilometers from my house.” It gave us a sense of being home whilst being 18 hours away. We waltzed out of the movie, feeling a strange combination of homesick and certain of where our home truly is. Dongtan may be where we are now, but Johannesburg is still where our hearts lie. It is where our families are. Our best friends. Our favourite restaurants. Where we grew up. Where we met. Where we fell in love.

While we may be away, there is certainly a part of us still strolling the streets of our city. Not at night, because the part of us is still concerned for its safety, but during the day, in the sunshine. And we’ll be reunited with this part of ourselves before we know it.

Things Don’t Happen on Declaration Alone

This morning, Kris and I got up earlier than usual, for a reason that neither of us would have expected we would do when we came here: to exercise. More precisely, to run to the local park, do a bit more running, and then throw a frisbee around until we had to leave. We had resolved to run home as well, but the sheer biting cold of the morning put those aspirations to a swift end.

This was a major achievement for us. The previous day, we had resolved to do the same thing – get up early to go practice some frisbee and work off some of the vast amount of complex carbohydrates we have been eating since we got here. Neither of us are quite sure whether we’ve gained or lost weight while being here, but we decided that some exercise is a decent precautionary measure, lest we be beset on all sides by some more inches on our sides. However, despite a fairly confident assertion the night before that we would go through with our plan, when Tuesday morning came upon us through the shrill sound of our cellphone alarm, we rolled towards each other, let out a mutual grunt of “Oh hell no.”, and reset the alarm for our normal waking moment.

When I got to thinking what we did differently between Monday and Tuesday in terms of our preparation for exercise, I realized that the first difference lay in our language usage surrounding our early rising. On Monday, phrases like “It would be nice if we got up early to exercise.” and “If we exercise, we should throw some frisbee as well.” abounded. On Tuesday, on the other hand, there was a good deal more “When we exercise, we must remember to put on extra layers.” and “There will be no laying in bed this time, gosh darnit.”. Our language was far more certain in the nature of the exercise, and this led us to seeing our morning run as a definite thing, and not simply a whimsical, idealistic possibility.

On top of this, our actions were also far more determined. We both acknowledged the need to get up the night before, and even planned the morning accordingly, from the moment we woke up until the moment we left the house for work. We gave each other one last pep talk the night before, in preparation for the dreaded coming of slightly less sleep. Actions such as these gave our idea direction and momentum before we even executed it.

This difference got me thinking about how we got here in the first place. It was not some flight of fancy – it was months of planning, taking an English course, and infinitesmal applications and forms (mostly filled out by Kristen and not myself) that led us to getting up for some fresh air before work. I realized once more that most things in life don’t fall in your lap – you have to get up from your lazy chair, do some legwork, and never stop until you have it. If all you do is sit and wait, you’ll end up with a lap filled with rotten fish, crusty Cheetos, and self-pity. I may not be someone who made a million at 16, but I can say that the work is worth it when you end up on the other side of the world with the one that you love. Not every day will be bliss, but it will certainly give you some stories to tell your friends. Or the Internet.

Walking Ragged for the Best Burger in Korea

After a week filled with emotional breakdowns, obnoxious children, and settling more into the routine of teaching, I was most definitely looking forward to the weekend. Kris and I laid in bed for far longer than we would have been able to in the week, before leaving with a couple of friends from work for a day in Seoul.

We started by returning to Myeong-dong (a shopping haven) to replace the sentimental mug that I broke earlier in the week. We happened to get our hands on the last one, which was a relief – we were willing to run around Seoul looking for a replacement, but were equally happy to not have to do so.

Following this, we took several subway trains to an underground gaming market in a nearby neighbourhood. The market is underground in both the physical and metaphorical senses – it is literally under ground level, but also not on the mainstream shopping side of Seoul, so it was not nearly as packed as Myeong-dong. The roughly two-hundred metre tunnel was filled with stalls displaying everything from the latest Nintendo 3DS games to old-school GameCubes, N64s, and even Famicoms. The video game nerd in me was filled with joy, but sadly my wallet was far less filled with cash, so nothing was purchased. We vowed to return later on in our stay in Korea.

It was the last leg of our day in Seoul that was the most filled with surprise. The main purpose of our day was to experience the rumoured French quarter of Seoul in Seorae Village. We had heard tales of a small area that echoed Montmatre in Paris, filled with French bistros and small tastes of French life. Sadly, the aspect of the area that was most evocative of France was a slightly increased number of red brick buildings.

However, it was here that we would find our true highlight of the day – a small American-style diner named the Brooklyn Burger Joint. It was said to have the best burgers in Seoul and, by extension, Korea. Our American compatriot was cautiously excited when we found it – it certainly looked the part. There were stickers and posters referencing all aspects of American life, from Dr. Pepper to Star Wars to the Chicago Bulls. We sat down at our table, awaiting our cheese fries, burgers, and drinks.

Those who had said that the Brooklyn Burger Joint serves the best burgers in Korea are not wrong. What we received looked like your simple, classic burger – a seed bun, melted cheese, onion, a patty, and bacon (because everything is better with bacon). When we each took our first bite, we realized that this was no ordinary burger. Each piece perfectly complemented the rest of the ensemble with individual quality and perfect balance. The bun was fresh and soft. The cheese was melted to perfection. The bacon was, well, bacon, and thereby perfect. But the real surprise to me was the patty. I was expecting a slightly chewy, bland patty. This was nothing like the soft, flavourful, juicy patty that finished off arguably the best burger I have had in my life. For all of us, it was well worth the trip and the rather inflated cost of the meal.

This week may have been filled with some less-than-enjoyable experiences, but spending today running around Seoul with some friends, enjoying good food and new experiences, was a welcome escape from the routine of the week. We walked a lot, we ate a lot, and we talked even more. All of the excitement was refreshing and exhausting. Kristen and I will contrast the activity today with extra doses of sloth tomorrow. And we could think of nothing better.

Here’s to You, Mrs. Robinson.

On Wednesday, I broke down in tears. It wasn’t a particularly difficult day, but it wasn’t an easy one either – my kindergarten children were obstinate, my elementary children were rowdy, and the day was long. But that wasn’t what brought about the emotional breakdown – it was a film, and how that film made me think about my life in a particular way.

As you may have guessed from the title of this post, this film was the 1967 classic The Graduate. While the main character’s romance with an older lady was undeniably shocking (and must have been even more so at the time), what really struck a chord with me was the protagonist’s fear of the unknown that lay ahead of him in life. For those unfamiliar with the film, it depicts the struggles of a 21-year-old graduate student navigating his first few months out of university. It is a fascinating film, and from the first shot to the last, the protagonist is bemused and afraid about what he will do in the real world as he emerges from the cocoon of university.

This resonated with me, because I have never been entirely certain about what I will end up doing for a career. At various points in my life, I have wanted to be a lawyer, a musician, an economist, a psychologist, and even an archaeologist. However, nothing has been that perfect fit for me quite yet. This is also the case for the protagonist in The Graduate, whose worry pulsates from him throughout the film and all of his decisions therein.

As I watched, I wondered – if a 21-year-old was so worried about life, how much more worried should I be, at 24? This thought weighed heavy in my head for a time after we’d finished watching the film. It all reached an ugly head when I accidentally broke one of the first mugs we had bought for ourselves in Korea. When the ceramic crashed against the floor, my emotional wall was crushed by its weight.

I cried for a good few minutes, before Kris managed to help me realize how silly I was being. Nevertheless, even though yesterday was far worse a day in terms of the students’ behaviour, I was barely fazed by it. Sure, there was a small amount of wishing certain children would not show up for school ever again, and a smidgen of genuine frustration (not shown to the children of course). But there never felt like there was any risk of a meltdown.

And this, dear friends, is the power of film – it can help us see into ourselves, and gaze into aspects of our lives we would otherwise avoid. It may occasionally be painful, but it is always interesting what you see in there.

Birthdays and Classrooms Don’t Mix Well

This morning, I thought that today would be a relatively easy day. Two of the five kindergarten lessons I would normally have were going to be replaced with a birthday party (of my most well-behaved child, no less) and a celebration for St. Patrick’s Day. In theory, this seemed like it would be significantly less stress and work than the average day. In practice, while it probably was slightly less work, these unique events came with their own problems and stresses.

A birthday party at our school is a singular experience. The entire class (teacher included) goes to the eating area, where the child’s parent has provided a cake and, in this particular case, an assortment of fruit and juice boxes. The children then take turns giving the presents that they have brought with them to the child whose birthday it is. Following this, the teacher (me) is given a board with a number of pictures of the birthday child. They are then expected to give a short speech to the other children about the birthday child’s life. In my case, this was a lot of bumbling sentences such as “Well, here she is as a baby!” and “Oh look, here she’s playing with her…uh…sister?”. Finally, everyone is given their allocated amount of the communal snacks, and gorges on their deliciousness.

Throughout the entire process, the teacher’s assistant hovers, taking rapid-fire photographs for purposes unknown. A child eating their cake. Teacher embarrassing themselves. Teacher embarrassing themselves again. A child dropping their food. More embarrassment. Children passing gifts. Everyone smiling together on the happy occasion. What was meant to be a touching, personal experience given by the school became a photo shoot for future campaigns. This tainted the experience slightly. For me, anyways. The kids were too busy filling every possible food cavity in their bodies with cake.

Once the song and dance of the birthday party was completed and I’d had a brief break, the entire school paraded into the gym. The kids were instructed to sit quietly in straight, neat lines. This quickly turned into a coagulated mass of children mumbling at a volume slightly below screaming. In celebration of St. Patrick’s Day, the children were all dressed in green. Or, they were meant to, at least. The spirit levels ranged from a child whose name was emblazoned in green felt across their chest to a debatably green shirt worn with disdain. Each class took turns to walk up onto the stage, where each child said their name and informed the school that they were wearing green clothes. It was a cute ceremony, and it took up time. My class only mildly misbehaved, momentarily refusing to walk up onto the stage. I should have taken this misbehaviour as an omen for what was to come.

The remainder of the day was spent trying to reign in three small children fueled by various kinds of sugar, fruit, and cake. It was not a fun time. I expected them to have all of their energy burned out from the day’s excitement. Alas, they had not yet begun to burn through their resources. At least I had gym at final period, where I could simply let them loose and scolded them if they were too loud.

All in all, today was not an overly unpleasant day, but I will certainly remember their state post-sugary-treats for the future. Next time, I’ll eat all the damn cake. Particularly if it’s good cake. Mmmm, cake.

St. Paddy’s Day?

Apparently, in Korea, St. Patrick’s Day is something that is celebrating with moderate interest by a small community in most major cities. I was surprised to hear that there is indeed a distinct Irish community in Seoul. While there are a number of Irish-themed pubs and bars in Dongtan, with names such as Baby Guinness, I never would have thought that this would lead to there being dedicated celebrations of St. Patrick’s Day.

But then I remembered a rather important fact about South Korea – when it comes to Western influence, South Korea takes the lead from America in almost every way. When we were applying for jobs, many potential job listings stated that an American accent was preferred. Some listings even went so far as to be exclusively for people with American-style accents. The large department stores stock a wide variety of American snacks, treats, and paraphernalia, with the remainder of the world given cursory items such as some pasta from Italy, or biscuits from the UK. There are also a wide number of American fast food and coffee chains throughout Dongtan, such as Pizza Hut, Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts, and Pappa John’s.

It is this American influence that undoubtedly led to the celebration of St. Patrick’s Day. While St. Patrick may have been Irish, it is America that is more well-known for celebrating it in a swirl of green beer, Guinness, and poorly-attempted Irish accents. And, judging from the potential celebrations that we have been invited to or seen advertised around the city, this is the kind of celebration that South Korea has embraced.

So, in traditional Jodi and Kristen fashion, we have decided to avoid rampant spending and drinking. Instead, we will cuddle up, and watch a movie and play computer games. Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone.

Reconnecting to the Internet Feels Like Coming Home

Kris and I have been in our new apartment for a little over a week now. Our Internet was only installed late last week. For our previous time in Korea, we were getting our Internet fix over various WiFi networks littered throughout Dongtan. While it was adequate to get us by and allow me to keep posting these regular (hopefully entertaining) updates, it is a different experience altogether to be connected to the Internet in a place that one can consider to be home, even if that may only be for a year.

Previously, I would have to type which hunched over my laptop perched precariously on my lap on a hotel bed, trying desperately not to move. Moving would likely cause our crummy adapter to fall out of place, and my laptop would instantly die. She’s an old girl – her battery is entirely shot. Otherwise, I would type on my phone, which was a different kind of frustrating. While cellphones may be ideal for typing short messages, they are sub-optimal for typing several-hundred-word blog posts. Typos are easily to lose on the small screen, and there were many a time where Kristen would read a post moments after I posted from my phone and point out a number of errors. I would then hastily correct them, so as not to lose my faithful readers’ impression that I am actually a proficient user of the English language.

Over and above more conveniently updating you lovely people, there are a host of positives to having access to reliable and ridiculously fast Internet. Kris and I have once again begun playing DotA2, our favourite computer game. We were easily able to re-obtain the vast majority of videos and music on Kris’ computer when it needed reformatting after obtaining a virus. We were able to spend the majority of the past weekend bundled in bed watching YouTube videos.

Arguably the most significant change has been our ability to connect with those we love. As I have mentioned, posting this blog is a lot easier when I can do it from the comfort of a chair with no pressure to finish quickly. We can once again check Facebook and other social media on a regular basis. Most importantly, we have begun to Skype our families. These small interactions have helped immensely to cheer us up and lessen any homesickness we have.

However, it also helps drive us forward. We know who we have behind us, and what we are working towards – a life where we can live independently amongst those that we love. And, with a little bit of luck, that is what we will one day be able to do. Between then and now is a seemingly never-ending chasm filled with attention-seeking and demanding children. But with the help of the Internet, you carry us across, closer to our dreams. Thank you.