The Glory of Honey Citron Tea and ViralGuard

This time last night, I was shivering in bed, running a rather serious fever. Today, I sit in fairly good health (not quite 100 percent yet, but rapidly getting there). To thank for this, I have two treatments: honey citron tea and ViralGuard.

ViralGuard is definitely the more conventional of these two. It is an over-the-counter medication designed for dealing with exactly what I had last night – the early signs of a serious viral illness. It is an old South African faithful, and we brought over (hopefully) far too much of the stuff, just in case our bodies began to threaten us with sickness.

Honey citron tea, on the other hand, is a different beast altogether. It is a remedy I had not seen before I came to Korea, but I am unsure if it is a uniquely Korean medication, or something that many countries in this part of the world has. Essentially, it is a jar filled with honey flavoured citrus meat and rinds, which, when combined with ample hot water, form a tea that is similar in nature to Med-Lemon. It fills your throat and body with a warm glow that immediately makes you feel better, while the citrus raises your vitamin C levels, allowing your body to better defend itself against the viral invaders. Kristen and I both drank two cups of the stuff throughout the day, which allowed us to keep on teaching despite feeling a little achy.

Although, if I’m honest, the best treatment that I received is not alluded to in the title of this post, for it is something that I am one of the lucky few who have experienced it. This secret remedy is the love and care of my girlfriend Kristen, who stayed up with me while my fever was at its worst, worrying over me and generally making sure that everything was okay. She is what helped me get better and, more importantly, what keeps me going every day. I am just grateful that I am honoured enough to call her my better half.

Crying Children, Bouncing Balloons, and Messupitomia

I have officially completed my first week as a teacher in Korea! While I may not have set the teaching world aflame, I have lasted longer than I thought I would at the beginning of the week, where I was ready to pack my bags and come home.

The last few days had the occasional moment of extreme emotion in the classroom – yesterday, I told the kids to draw what made them happy, and one of the children in my class drew the class. Then today, that same child cried, refusing to sit in the sad chair (so named because they get sent there for making me sad). Despite this, I felt more emotionally stable than I did on my first, comparatively uneventful days of teaching.

The group of teachers has also bonded together far more closely than I had expected. Last night, we spent 45 minutes simply bouncing a balloon with a cat face drawn on it in black koki whilst talking about everything and nothing. We then proceeded to go out together for fried chicken. Then tonight, we all went out again, this time to one of the two bars that are known to be frequented by foreigners in Dongtan. For a while, we were the only people in the restaurant, as many other foreigners in the city only get off of work at 10pm local time. One of my colleagues decided to take this opportunity to drink too much Jameson. We all had a good time, laughing together about children, life in general, and the fact that said coworker called Mesopotamia Messupitomia.

All told, it was a nice start to our first weekend as official teachers in Dongtan. All I need to do is quickly reformat Kristen’s computer (which has contracted a serious virus), and then it will be time for a well-deserved rest, leading in to an even more well-deserved lie-in tomorrow morning. While it doesn’t promise to be the most exciting weekend, it will definitely be one of the most refreshing.

Eat that Squid!

A popular expression for doing something that you don’t like is comparing it to eating a frog – it may not be pleasant, but one should simply do it quickly, and get it over with. Today, I found (inadvertently) a better comparison to describe a large portion of life – eating squid.

For those who don’t know (which was, up until a few hours ago, a group that included myself), squid meat, particularly when uncooked in sushi, can be extremely chewy, and take a good deal of time and effort before it can comfortably be swallowed. Despite this, its taste is not overly unpleasant. I certainly wouldn’t order it again, but I didn’t feel the need to try learn the Korean translation of ‘I need to kindly use your restroom to send this squid back to the sea via your bathroom.’

This is what makes it an apt analogy. Most of the time, the ‘bad’ things in life are not particularly unpleasant – not to the degree of (what I would imagine to be) the taste of live frog meat. However, it does take time and effort to get through, in order to be able to try the rest of the food on the plate of life. Like, in my case, the most delicious salmon sashimi I have ever had the privilege to eat.

Sure, there are a few frog nigiris out there, such as the death of loved ones, or being laid off. And when these come around, every person has their own way to deal with it and (hopefully) move on. But most of the time, it’s just another piece of squid sitting on your plate, requiring your attention: filling in your tax return, doing your daily drudge work, or sitting through load shedding (for those in South Africa).

So, to you all, I say: Eat that squid! And keep eating, and eating, and chewing, and masticating, and every other synonym for moving your mouth up and down until the unpleasantness has passed. Because it may take a while, but you will make it through if you just keep chewing.

First Day of Being Stared at by Children

Everyone always said that the first day of teaching would be one of the hardest. Not harder than if the kids all had a tummy bug but were still at school, but still challenging. I only truly found out what they all meant today.

The first lesson itself was probably the worst. I felt underprepared (because I was), unsure (because I was) and completely and utterly useless as a teacher (even if I wasn’t). These feelings were not helped by the fact that the director of the school, the lady who will (hopefully) be the one kind enough to pay us at the end of the month, sat in and watched as I floundered, trying desperately to fill the time between the start of the lesson and its end.

I started my first lesson of kindergarten with a modicum of confidence. I had been here for a few days, and had been told what to expect. However, being told and actually experiencing it are two completely different things. Once I began to realize that the children were far smarter than I had expected, and they could all actually understand a fair amount of English, the plan I had had in my head came unglued. I began to sink into a quagmire of panic and despair.

But, 40 agonizing minutes in a room with the world’s 3 most unintentionally intimidating 6-year-olds later, it was over. I had taught my first lesson in Korea. The director had a few pointed comments that stuck in my chest like caltrops to the heart, but I held back the tears, and headed to the break room.

10 minutes later, I was back in. From then on, I had book material to work from, and I fared a little better at fleshing out their skeleton on the spot. Before I knew it, my kindergarten lessons were over. I can’t say I enjoyed them, and I can foresee major conflict with one of the girls in the class over her attitude, but it was over. They went home, and the teachers all had a well-deserved lunch break, in preparation for the arrival of the elementary children.

As with the later kindergarten lessons, the elementary ones flew by, as I had some material to work with. Not a lot of material, but something. This helped me improvise, however badly and boringly it may have seemed from the kids’ perspective. Consequently, I began to enjoy the lessons, and have more fun with them. It’s ironic, really, that it works like that. Maybe one day, I will have the teaching chops to find good improvisation in the bad moments, but today was not that day.

Nevertheless, before I knew it, the day was over, and I had taught my last lesson. For today, anyway. And I was proud of that, but I was also daunted and despondent with teaching. How was I going to do it for a whole year, if not more?

After several hours of contemplative moments snatched between going out for dinner, prepping for the next day, and relaxing, I found an imperfect answer. I’d have to live for the moments that I’d want to share later, where the kids and I genuinely connected and laughed together. I had my first true moment like that in my last class of the day, over a dog named Chip in a story of a grammar text. Will those moments keep me really keep me going? I don’t know. But we’ll all find out together.

Fried Chicken, Cat Cafés, and a Possessed Refrigerator

While our time in Korea up until now has been relatively busy with training and trying new food, the last two days have been crammed with activity. We have moved into our apartment, met our new co-workers, and been on our first shopping trip to Seoul, the capital city of Korea.

Our apartment is far larger than we were expecting. What we had prepared ourselves for was a sink, a bathroom, and maybe enough floor space to put a single bed that we would have to share. What we got was two relatively large rooms, a separate bathroom and laundry area, and a gorgeous dark wood wardrobe. This was promptly filled with most of our crumpled clothes, which were undoubtedly happy that they were finally being given some room to breathe after many days being spent in cramped, stuffy bags.

Once we had moved in, we discovered that one of our fellow teachers for the coming year was moving in next door to us. When they arrived, we greeted them by helping cart their possessions into their home. Once all of their stuff that had arrived was inside their exactly equally-sized apartment, we all decided to venture into the surrounding streets, where we bonded over fried chicken. Very good, Korean-style fried chicken, which I arguably prefer to brands like KFC. I will have to try it some more to investigate.

Most of our day today was spent in various shopping districts of Seoul with our two very good friends (who are soon to abandon us to return to the US). In between walking around several dozen stores and a covered, multi-storey market over the course of the day, we entered a realm into which I had never before imagined I’d enter – the realm of a cat café.

A cat café is a strange place, where humans pay money to swap their shoes for pink slippers, drink bad ice tea, all with the aim of being loved by the over 20 cats lying around the room. This is partially thwarted by the fact that they are cats, and loving is not in their nature, but Kris and I still drew much joy from being in the same room as an assortment of feline companions.

Throughout the weekend, and the past week in general, we have received a wealth of teaching advice. From icebreakers to lesson ideas to discipline strategies, the current teachers at our school were more than happy to share what worked for them. Nevertheless, I still feel profoundly unprepared for tomorrow, when four seven-year-old Koreans will be staring blankly at me while I speak a foreign language at them. Now, I sit on my couch, listening to my refrigerator make strange unearthly noises, worrying equally about tomorrow morning and whether, the next time I open the fridge door, I will see a small pyramid guarded by a gargoyle dog speaking the word ‘Zuul’. Hopefully at least one of these worries will be unfounded.

Good by Comparison

When Kris and I were reading up on teaching jobs in Korea, and being told stories of those that had come over, all we heard were the glowing reviews. We were treated to many a tale of a friend or relative who had come over for their initial year, fallen in love with the country, and never returned. Even some of the departing teachers from the school where Kris and I will be teaching had only planned on a year in the country before finding love and staying on. Today, we heard our first serious horror stories.

They came in small clumps, miniature rainstorms of negativity throughout the sunny Korean day. We heard mumblings of people not being paid on time. Then there were little tidbits about administrative nightmares surrounding flights. Finally, over a pot of sizzling pork, we bore witness to a perfect storm of human callousness.

We were told the tale of a teacher who, on the last day of their contract before they were due to leave, was subjected to what appeared to be simple emotional outbursts by their employer. The situation worsened when the teacher was faced with signing contracts to accept guilt for errors that were made by others, with the alternative to this being to be fired without severance pay or their flight being paid for.

However, the consequence for signing two admissions of that nature would be that they would lose their severance pay. The poor teacher was stuck between a rock and a poor place.

Hearing these tales made Kris and I far more thankful to be where we are. Our school is, by the admission of all of our colleagues, a decent and honest establishment.

Our year contract seems like a lifetime now, but I am certain that it will pass faster than we thought possible, and we will soon be leaving in the mix of emotions we saw from those teachers saying goodbye to the school today. While they were happy to be returning to their families shortly, tears were shed for the happy memories made with the (generally) adorable children.

Kristen and my hearts were also heavy, because in the past few days, we have bonded with the teachers we have come to know during our time here, and who have shown us the ins and outs of our small metropolitan. While they have left us with valuable knowledge, they leave us wishing that they would stay, so that we could further grow the friendships that had just begun to bud. Perhaps we will see them again, perhaps not. Such is the constant state of flux that is teaching abroad. We can only hope.

Two Days of Firsts

The last two days have been a unique combination of manic and relaxed. While we still have yet to move in to our new apartment, we have been spending our days at our soon-to-be school. It is here that we have had our eyes opened in many ways, including the view of the skyline seen above.

Firstly, we met some of our colleagues, all of whom seem to be nice people. Sadly, the people that Kris and I bonded the closest with will soon be leaving (as their contracts end tomorrow). However, our colleagues have given us several pearls of wisdom for surviving in Korea as a foreigner. Primary amongst these are a number of restaurants that are both cheap and delicious. Kris and I have had cooked tuna sushi rolls, ramen noodles, spicy chicken, and dishes with a sauce as black as pitch. All of these have surprised us with their flavours, and we have thoroughly enjoyed them.

We were also lucky enough to enjoy some light, refreshing teas at each meal. These teas helped Kristen’s faith in Asia to be restored, after having horrible tea served to us on the plane. Unfortunately, I now have a similar stigma against Asian beer, as the slightly yellow water we were served at dinner last night was not quite up to South African standards.

Oddly enough, we also had our first encounter with our future students revolve around food. The children and their mothers came to the school kitchen facility, where we guided them through making a “pizza” from bread, tomato sauce, onions, sausage, peppers, and cheese. Appreciators of Italian cuisine would roll in their grave, but it was a fun activity that gave us as the teachers some time to bond with the children, and identify potential troublemakers.

Despite meeting the children, our time here still seems surreal – we have been floating around the other teachers, not quite doing anything substantial yet. By this time next week, I will undoubtedly wish that I were still not doing anything (instead of being swamped with work), but for now, I can’t wait to get stuck in to teaching some 7-year-olds another language.

Transit

So, after a a 12-hour flight followed by a 3-hour layover, which was followed by another 3-hour flight, all of which culminated in a 90-minute drive, we have finally reached where we will be staying in Korea. For now. When we managed to pick up some free WiFi in Hong Kong, we were moderately disgruntled to find out that our apartment (where we were meant to move into today) will not be ready until Saturday.

None of this helped ease the nagging voice in my head telling me that this is a scam. Although we have had a Skype conversation with our director, signed a detailed contract, and had our flights paid for, the small, tinny voice whining about being sold into slavery was still squealing on. It also got noticeably louder when our driver (who picked us up from the airport) spoke no English and herded us into a black minivan, complete with tinted windows and a cushioned roof for improved silencing of screams. i attempted to drown the voice out by engaging my brain in deciphering the Korean writing and counting the number of toll gates and speed cameras that we passed through. The final tally was 5 speed cameras and 4 toll gates in 90 kilometres. SANRAL could learn a thing or two.

Nevertheless, after over a day of traveling (factoring in the hours we missed simply by changing timezones), we lie in a hotel room (complete with flat-screen television and personal computer), soon to drift off to sleep. This will be more difficult than it sounds, due to our bodies thinking that it is still mid-afternoon, but we are both rather worn out from the many hours spent sitting behind people whose seats leaned back far more than should be allowed, and hearing the snoring of a man who fell asleep before our first plane even took off.

What will happen when we go to our workplace for the first time tomorrow? I cannot say yet. But it will certainly be more affecting than our trip here, and far more influential on our enjoyment of the coming year.

Departure

So, this is where many things begin. This blog, my life outside of my parents’ home, my experiences in a country on the other side of the world from everyone I love, apart from my girlfriend, Kristen. There is a swirl of emotions within me right now. I am feeling everything from nervousness to excitement to sheer terror. In this maelstrom, I have almost forgotten why.

Tomorrow afternoon, I board a plane for South Korea, where Kristen and I will teach English for a year. To start with. We might stay longer if we fall in love with the country. Uncertainties lie riddled like mines throughout the immediate past, present, and future. Right now, I can’t quite wrap my head around the extent of change that is about to happen. And I think I might like it.

Up until this point, my existence has been fairly (although not completely) structured:

I have always lived with my parents.

I went to a good school.

I got good marks.

I went to university.

I have never truly known what I want to do with my future.

I have never been able to be truly honest with myself about what I want – my opinion has always been clouded by my circumstances. This is why I like all of the change. Perhaps, when my circumstances have been entirely altered, I may find that clarity within myself that I have been seeking. Perhaps not. But I cannot wait to find out.

And I hope that you will come back, and share my journey with Kristen and I. See you on the other side.