Waltzing Amongst Trees Chasing Children

This week has positively flown by. This could be a result of our lack of sleep over the weekend, but is more likely because we spent the week in anticipation of today. This morning was the first in the series of monthly field trips that the entire kindergarten section of our school embarks on, and it was most certainly an eye-opener.

The field trip was to the local(ish) arboretum – a collection of trees, rather similar to what would be called a botanical garden back home in South Africa. We were tasked with leading the children on a set path to a small grass field. There they would play rigorously until their lungs could only marginally function, at which point we would lead them back to the bus. It seemed like a simple task, far superior to our normal activity of standing in front of the children for three lessons attempting to control them long enough that they could learn something by accident. I was given my first hint as to the true nature of field trips when I expressed my eagerness to one of the teaching assistants and was met with a chuckle and being told that it was exhausting. This would turn out to be surprisingly true, but not for the reasons that I could predict.

I had expected to be chasing after my children, wrangling them out of trees, pulling various sharp pieces of the environment from various parts of their bodies, and constantly shouting their names in the hope that they would return. In reality, all I did was hold the hand of my most energetic student to ensure that he didn’t run (I would have had better luck with a leash) and be constantly vigilant. The children needed little more than a slightly raised voice and a threat to take away their beloved stars to return or cease whatever prohibited activity they were doing, whether it was littering or actively destroying a plant.

A pleasant side-effect to the field trip was that I was able to spend some time with my teaching assistant, who is also my supervisor. We conversed briefly about South Africa and the weather in the moments when the children were too stimulated by the environment around them to behave badly. While it wasn’t actually a deep, long, or serious conversation, it was nice to get to know the person who takes care of the little bundles of energy when I retreat to the teacher’s lounge during break times. I hope such opportunities arise again.

All in all, the field trip was exhausting and unexpectedly fun. It made a nice change to the routine of teaching, enjoyed thoroughly by both the students and us teachers. I wouldn’t want a field trip every day, but once a month it is nice to get out of the small school building and spend some time somewhere different. You never know what you can learn about the people you spend most of your week with when you put them in a different context. It’s refreshing, and something I shall look forward to for the future.

Beauty in Impermenance

After far too many hours on a bus, Kris and I returned safely from our trip to Gyeongju for their cherry blossom festival. Apart from over 13 or so hours on the bus throughout the weekend, we managed to: hike up the local mountain, Mount Namsan; visit the Bulguksa and Seokguram temples; see more cherry blossoms than we could fathom; eat our first corn dog; visit the local museum; watch the sun rise on the beach next to an underwater tomb; and sleep on floors of varying comfort. We both enjoyed the trip immensely – we learned a great deal about Korean culture, saw many beautiful sights, and met some wonderful new people, who will hopefully serve to get us to leave our house more often.

Thinking back about the trip, what I enjoyed most were those things that cannot be captured on camera, either because the moments are fleeting or because such recording is prohibited.

The moments that were too difficult and fleeting to capture were those times where I found the cherry blossom trees to be at their most mesmerizing and beautiful. While simply looking at them standing still is remarkable, everything changes when the wind blows through the leaves of a cherry blossom tree. The tree changes, coming to life like a beautiful girl standing awkwardly backstage in a pretty dress comes to life when she takes to the lighted stage to flow in graceful dance. The petals drift slowly earthward from their heavenly perch, taking just enough time for you to be entranced by their falling, but not enough time for you to whip out your smartphone and flash garish light at the moment in an attempt to press its beauty onto a digital canvas. Few things in life have taken my breath away, and cherry blossoms in the wind is most certainly one of them.

The other moments that truly made me feel something were those spent inside of sacred Buddhist spaces. In the temples, photography is not allowed. This adds to the importance of living in the moment at that point in time, because you can’t simply take a photo and look at it later – you have to concentrate on the here and now, taking in every small detail that you can before moving on. Once you look away, all you have is your memory – no digital crutch to lean your recollection on when you tell the tale later. This feeling of immediate reverence was most profound at Seokguram grotto. This temple on a mountainside is home to one of the most perfect depictions of Buddha in Asia, a title rightfully earned by the imposing white marble statue. While statues from history are being defiled and torn down in my home country, this timeless piece of Buddhist art stares out at the world in all of the majesty that was painstakingly carved into it over a thousand years ago. And all you have to take it in is a few moments before you must move on, allowing the next visitor to have their experience of it.

These are the moments that will truly stick with me, gracefully painted onto my memory. These days, far too much is made of recording for later, with people obsessed with taking selfies with selfie sticks. By all means, take photographs – having digital copies will help jog your memory later in life. But don’t forget to make memories while you’re filling up your memory card.

Impending Cherry Blossoms

After a week that went by far too slowly, Kris and I are on a bus, on our way to Gyeongju, a small region in the southern part of South Korea. We are travelling to witness the cherry blossom festival for which the region is well-known. We have seen a few cherry blossoms around Dongtan – the odd tree blooming in a square here, a row of impossibly puffy trees lining the road there. What we are on our way to see is, apparently, on a totally different level, and we are immensely excited to finally be exploring the country after a few weeks of getting acquainted with the country.

What lies between us and apparently an immense amount of cherry blossoms is about 3 more hours on a bus filled with people from all over the world – Portugal, Estonia, America, and of course the token Canadians. The first person I talked to from the tour? South African. We talked briefly about Korea in general, South African quirks, and rusks while waiting for the tour bus to arrive.

So now, here we sit, the road gently rolling underneath us, listening to some classic rock, growing a weird combination of tired from our draining days, excited for the prospects ahead, and genuinely afraid that the blossoms may already have fallen from the trees down south. Above all of this, we are happy to be somewhere other than a small classroom, and eager to get to our destination and the magical experiences therein!

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.