A SEAlebration of Ultimate: Bangkok Hat 2019

While Kristen and I have played our fair share of Ultimate in Korea, we had long been looking to participate in a tournament outside of the country we call home in Asia. For years, our lack of extended holidays had prevented us from being able to experience more of Asian Ultimate. That all changed a couple of weeks ago, when we were lucky enough to play at the 19th annual Bangkok Hat in Bangkok, Thailand. Between the a welcoming atmosphere, the high-quality, high-spirit Ultimate, and unparalleled food and drink at the field, Bangkok Hat exceeded our already high expectations and left us wanting to return next year.

From the welcoming party the night before the tournament to the moment where players gathered for scores of selfies after the final game, the organizers of and players at Bangkok Hat made Kris and I feel as welcome as if we played in Thailand regularly. Kris and I ended up on different teams, and both of our captains strove to make the games as fun for everyone as possible. Occasionally, we have had the experience of teams that took hat tournaments seriously, playing only to win, and we were glad to see that this was not the case at Bangkok Hat. We were all one Ultimate family, and the Hat was a celebration of the sport and community within South East Asia, from the moment we arrived, to the games, all the way to the party.

Themed parties tend to make for wonderfully ridiculous photographs. Pictured: 6/7 dwarves.

This camaraderie and emphasis on enjoyment resulted in hard-fought but enormously enjoyable games. Most teams ended up playing eight games across the two-day tournament, and there were very few complete blow-outs in any of the games that Kris and I played. The average skill level was above that of tournaments that we’d played in Korea, and I relished the chance to continuously push myself. Teams had a good number of substitutes, which meant that players would play hard for one point and then take a couple of points off. This helped give everyone a chance to play without leading to long periods of downtime – a balance that is often hard to achieve. I enjoyed my team and games immensely. I also got to catch a leaping score one-handed, with a beer in the other hand, which was definitely my highlight of the tournament and potentially my entire Ultimate career.

Team Deep Purple channeling their spirit animals.

The aforementioned beer was one of the many provided by the organizers, included in the tournament fee. Throughout the tournament, there was always beer available for no charge. The players were also served delicious Thai lunch and dinner for both days, and were kept in constant supply of energy powder and water. Before the tournament, Kris and I were told that the fee for the tournament (which is higher than the average in the region) was entirely justified by the food alone, and I heartily agree. We feasted on curries, stir fry, desserts, and a host of snacks and fruit. Some tournaments leave you wondering where the money goes, but not Bangkok Hat. It all goes into providing quality fields, swag, and food.

In the weeks leading up to Bangkok Hat, I was not looking forward to attending. I longed to simply spend time at home with Kris and Catsby. I could not have been happier to have my desires upturned. Bangkok Hat now sits with Six on the Beach in the pantheon of my favourite hat tournaments that I’ve attended, and I hope that holidays will allow Kris and I to attend again next year.

This One Time, At English Camp…

I recently completed my first winter English camp as a teacher. At previous schools that I’ve worked at, there was no difference at all between the programs during school time and holiday time. I decided to teach at a different school for a two-week period to bolster Kris and my cash flow a little at the start of the year. I was expecting two weeks of drudgery, with seven-hour days filled with monotonous grinding through workbooks with a paycheck at the end. I was instead greeted with a friendly work environment, a host of (largely) charming students, and a fresh slice of a different teaching style.

During my interviewing for the position, I met all of the teaching staff at the school, including the other teachers that would be working the camp and the head of the English program at the school, including my eventual co-teacher. I did not pay much attention, as I was used to simply working in my own classroom with little interaction with the other teachers. As the camp wore on, I found myself bonding more and more with the other teachers. At the beginning and end of every day, all of the teachers doing the camp sat together in a staff room for half an hour, killing the required time before we could teach and go home respectively. I hadn’t taught in a workplace where there was a communal space since Kris and my first year, and I realized how much I missed spaces like it, particularly if the co-workers were engaging. It was comforting to sit and make small talk, discuss the plans for the day, or even just sit and people-watch.

After the morning meeting, we would all head to our respective classrooms and teach our classes. Each class was assigned two units of a special textbook to teach, with one unit being completed each day, complete with a craft matching the content of that unit. Students would rotate between classes every two days, meaning that if a class was particularly disruptive, you wouldn’t have to deal with them for more than two days before they moved on. It did also mean that the gem classes filled with ideal students were also only fleeting. By the time the camp ended, my co-teacher and I had taught the same content and made the same crafts five times. What started out as a tentative, experimental quest to try complete everything became a well-oiled machine after the first week.

This was largely due to the fact that my co-teacher was incredible. While I was expecting to do the majority of the work, I found that it had already been done for me. She had prepared the crafts, planned the lessons, made the presentations, and even printed out and organized all of the potential homework and worksheets. When she was in the class, she did most of the teaching. I would fill in to provide pronunciation, explain a particularly complex concept, or to allow her to leave the classroom to sort out some issue with the camp in general. I was in awe of the respect that the kids had for her, and her control of the classroom environment. I learned a host of techniques from her. It was a pleasure to work with her, and the highlight of the camp for me. Were she not leaving the school in March, I would be more tempted to switch jobs to work at the school full-time.

That is not to say that the school did not offer the opportunity to me. From the first interview for the camp, the school expressed interest in hiring me, offering me a position multiple times throughout the camp. By the time the camp dinner rolled around after our penultimate day, it had become a drinking game – myself and a colleague secretly finishing our drinks each time the head of the English program offered me a job. It was an unexpectedly effective game, particularly when everyone else figured out the one simple rule, and proceeded to set us up for regular drinking.

On my last day at the camp, nursing a slightly wonky gait and hazy memory from the night before, I said farewell to my homeroom class with more emotion than I was expecting. When I told the kids that I would be leaving and not coming back, they surprised me by rushing to hug me, say goodbye, and share how much they would miss me. I had not had such a farewell in a long time, and I was touched. I was expecting nothing more than a grind to a paycheck, and had instead grown as a teacher, made new friends, and apparently impacted a group of children. Not a bad way to start 2019.

2018: The Year of Stagnation

After the whirlwind year that was 2017, I entered 2018 refreshed and with a glint of confidence in my eye. I set my energy on breaking out of the teaching cycle and getting my foot in the door of a new industry. This hopefulness slowly curdled into disappointment and self-loathing. I spent months languishing in creative and professional purgatory, and simply watched the days swirl past me as I waited for some golden opportunity that never came. Eventually, I had to return to teaching in order to sustain the household that Kris and I continued to build. It was the routine of working again, combined with finding wonder in almost every aspect of life, that helped to reignite some semblance of inspiration within me, and I enter 2019 with much of the vigor that I started the year with, even if it is tinted with more realism.

A clean break

I believed that 2018 would be the year that I managed to stop teaching and find a career in gaming. I elected not to search for a new teaching job in March, and dedicated my time to software testing. I spent three months learning all I could in the lead-up to the eventual exam. I aced the exam, and started what I thought would be a brief job search. There were so many gaming companies, and I would be a perfect fit at any of them, I thought. It turns out that this assertion could hardly have been further from reality. As a foreigner with zero functional Korean or experience in the field, I was barely a more appealing hire than a well-dressed Shiba Inu with halitosis. At least the Shiba could potentially be a company mascot, even if it did smell a bit.

The fog

Days of searching turned into weeks. I rarely received more than a polite stock rejection to any position I applied for, if I was graced with any response at all. I applied to more postings than I could remember, and I could count the number of returned contact on my fingers. Possibly even on one hand. My spirit wasn’t broken. It was led into a cell, chained to the wall, and given a daily beating every time I opened up the job boards. As the weeks turned into months, it had curled into a ball, simply too bruised to care anymore. Throughout this time, Kris remained her remarkable, supportive self. She encouraged me, and assured me that I would find a job if I just kept trying. So I did. It never came. I was emotionally and creatively void. That showed in how I was too ashamed of my situation to post on this blog for months. I was failing in achieving my dream, and I didn’t want anyone else to know.

Return to the classroom

I couldn’t evade reality forever. Our bills continued to come in, and my lack of contribution had drained almost all of our previous windfall in a leaking sieve of selfish, blind ambition. On the day in October at which I was at my lowest following one final disappointing dead end, a board gaming friend posted that his school would need someone to replace him from the beginning of November, as he was returning home on short notice. The position seemed about as good of a deal as I could have hoped for at the time. The hours were shorter than the average job, which would leave me time to pursue other professional interests. There was a good deal of vacation, to help me match my vacation time with Kris. Most importantly, the school seemed supportive of both the students’ learning and the teachers themselves. I interviewed, and for the first time in my soul-bruising searching period, I was offered the job. It was teaching, but after months of nothing, I was excited to teach again, and the income would help me continue to focus on the next step without all of the guilt surrounding not being able to contribute to our household financially.

Bonfire Lit

With each passing day of employment, I clawed back the self-worth that had been left in tatters by the failure of the rest of the year. As I began to think of myself in a light other than a grey, faded hue, I realized an unintended casualty of my emotional self-mutilation – I had lost my sense of wonder. No matter what I experienced, I could find little to no magic or marvel in it. Before 2018, I could find a sprinkle of fairy dust in the most mundane of experiences, but my eyes had been glazed over by disappointment. Thankfully, as I regained positive opinions of myself, I began to see the wonder in the world again. I was also fortunate enough to be presented with innately wondrous experiences in all spheres of my life, from the life-affirming album ‘A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships’ by The 1975, playing Dark Souls for the first time, reading novels again after many months, spending more time with friends that look at the world from different angles to me and show me where they find happiness therein, and exploring more of Seoul and seeing the little wrinkles of joy that I had previously ignored. I played on arguably the most fun Ultimate teams I’ve ever played on, and they filled me with happiness even in the darkest of times. It is these renewed connections to the fantastical that I take with me into the year ahead.

Reflecting on a year where you spent the majority of it in isolated, unvoiced disillusionment is not an easy thing. I disappointed myself a great deal this year. I made more mistakes than I ever want to make in a year going forward. I hated myself more than I ever want to hate myself again. I am lucky that I could afford to have as awful a year as I did. Without my amazing wife supporting me in almost every way, I would not have been able to come out of this year remotely near being optimistic and able to see joy in the world, and for that I will be eternally grateful. My wonderful friends also managed to pull me out of my own negative world more often than I thought possible. 2019 will be a better year. I am filled with determination. Happy new year, everyone! I hope that your 2018s were better than mine, and that you never lose your ability to see the little miracles all around you.

All images in this piece by @mmingran.

How Two Teams’ Spirit Deepened my Love for Ultimate

Every Ultimate player, or player of sports in general, has their own reason for playing their game. For some, the drive to compete and be the best in their field is all-consuming. For others, it’s a way to keep healthy. For me, health plays a role, but my primary reason is enjoyment – I play Ultimate to have a good time with my friends on weekends, both on and off of the field. With this as my primary motivation, spirit of the game is incredibly important to my experience of the sport, and I have recently been lucky enough to play on two teams where spirit and enjoyment is valued above all else.

The first was my Fall 2018 ROK-U team, the Seoul Hammers.

The team was a great balance between experienced, spirited players and newer players keen to learn and become bigger parts of the Ultimate community. The season was not without its tense moments, particularly at finals weekend. We stood a good chance of making a deep run, and it was our captain’s last season in Korea after almost a decade in the country, so we wanted to try and give him one last championship. It didn’t end up working out, sadly.

Despite this drive to do well, the team dynamic was wonderful. Everyone was ready to be spirited both on and off of the field. Experienced players helped the new players without being overbearing. Newer players weren’t afraid to ask questions about the game to grow their skills. And no team represented better than Hammers at social events and parties. After my previous ROK-U team being far more results-driven, playing on the Hammers was a good time.

In between and after ROK-U lay a couple of club tournaments to add a higher-level spice to my Ultimate season, and I am honoured to say that I was able to play on Rebellion for this time.

Captained by the same long-serving veteran as the Hammers, a similar ethos lies at the heart of Rebellion – we’re there to compete, but not at the cost of players’ enjoyment and spirit. No club team I have yet played on has been more fun to play than Rebellion was, particularly at the recent K-Cup, the last tournament of the club calendar year.

Every single player on the team wanted nothing more than to have a good time whilst playing some good Ultimate. The team was a collection of some of the most spirited players in the Korean scene, and we all got along like a family. No-one got angry at anyone else for mistakes on the field. All communication was respectful and encouraging. Our sideline banter and cheers brought constant positive energy onto the field, even in tough games against teams not known for their spirit. Even when we were losing, we were still having the best time.

This sense of fun extended to the social side as well. Our team dinners were riotous celebrations of the team dynamic our captain had worked so hard to build. Sunday games were often slightly clouded by the fog of escapades and trials from the night before, but no-one cared because they enjoyed themselves so much. Several players, myself included, declared their love for the team and its people on multiple occasions. I can’t wait to play on Rebellion again next season. Some key faces will be missing, as is the norm in Korea, but hopefully those of us who remain can retain the beating heart of love and fun that kept the team going up until now.

I have been blessed with my ROK-U and club teams this past season. I haven’t enjoyed a season this much in a long while. The prioritization of spirit and player happiness over all else is a testament to the captain that made both of these teams what they are. Korea will miss you, musical man. You went out with two amazing teams and a love shot with a manager of a Baskin-Robbins. Nothing could be more appropriate.

Light at the End of Purgatory

Life is all about balance. Too much of any one thing, and that will most likely have negative consequences. For me, I have had an imbalance of time spent in my house since I decided to try and break out of the teaching industry earlier this year. I have floated about, not accomplishing much by my own metric. In a little under two weeks, I will start a new teaching job that I am relatively excited for, which will hopefully break up my daily cycle and give me feelings of satisfaction once again.

As I wrote in an earlier post, I was immensely dissatisfied with teaching earlier this year. I felt like I wasn’t being fulfilled by it, and I decided to try my hand at video game testing and the games industry as a whole. I studied for and obtained a software testing certification, and despite my best efforts, I just simply couldn’t find my place. I do not speak enough Korean to be employable at a Korean-speaking company, and the handful of English-focused companies didn’t want me either. This was an immense blow to my self-confidence, and after a little under two months of unsuccessfully trawling job boards, I gave up and settled in for a little over a month of self-hatred and wallowing in my own incompetence. When asked about it, I would express chipperness and resolve, but inside I was broken.

I spent the next few months in this state, always hoping that something would magically come my way. I had a potential prospect that was continually being delayed and pushed back, and I kept waiting for it for far longer than I should have. I was so focused on the possibility of that position that I believed that I was unworthy of anything else. But, after the umpteenth delay, I resolved that I needed to find a job, to contribute to the household that Kris and I had built once again. Kris was remarkably understanding during this period and never gave up on me. I had to pay her back.

As it happened, the day that I found out about the delay that broke my resolve for the previous position, a friend of mine posted on Facebook looking for a replacement at his school. I had experience with the school and knew that it would be a job that would give me a combination of income, good working conditions, and enough time outside of work to pursue my passions on the side. The hours were short, there was a vast amount of vacation, and I knew that the kids were generally well-behaved. So, I messaged my friend and applied for the job. After a couple of interviews, I was told that the school wanted to hire me. I was ecstatic.

I am currently jumping through a couple of immigration-related hoops, but if it all goes smoothly, I should start there on the 8th of November. I am looking forward to having gainful employment again. I go into the position well aware of my previous disillusionment, but with a new resolve to make the most out of my time. Even if it is nothing more than the means to which I continue my time in Korea, that will be more than worth it. Here’s to living the expat life until November 2019 at least!

Featured image from kireiaoshinari00 on DeviantArt

Six on the Beach 2018: Another Six Things I Learned

This past weekend, I attended my fourth Six on the Beach, or Sixes for short. Sixes is arguably the most well-known Ultimate hat tournament in Korea, and has had a large turnout whenever I’ve been lucky enough to make it. In both 2015 and 2017, I reflected on the six main lessons that those respective Sixes tournaments taught me. This year is no different!

Don’t make me a hat team captain – there will be a typhoon

I was captain for the 2016 tournament, and on the second day of that tournament we were treated to the worst weather that I’ve experienced in my time in Korea. The heavens loosed their liquid contents on the beach from early in the morning, which led to most of the players leaving before their games were done. It was a miserable day.

This year, I was made captain again, and two days before this year’s Sixes was set to start, Korea was hit by another typhoon. Luckily for the attendees of Sixes, there were only small showers during the tournament itself, and play largely went on unaffected by the weather. The fact remains – apparently the forces in charge of inclement weather don’t like me being a hat team captain.

Music on the sideline makes Ultimate even better

This is a fact that I’d known was true for league play for several seasons, as it helps to cut the tension that competitiveness can bring. It was in this Sixes that I truly noticed the difference in a hat tournament setting. For most of our games, there was no music on the sidelines, mostly due to the risk of rain. However, for a couple of our games, we had spectators bring their own portable speaker to watch us. I’m not sure if it is just my own personal background being intertwined with music, but I instantly gained extra energy and happiness, regardless of what was playing. If music be the food of fun, play on!

Jackson 5. It was an honour to captain you!

Hat tournaments are perfect for forming new bonds, or strengthening old ones

A large part of the appeal of hat tournaments comes from playing with and against players that you otherwise would not in a league or club setting. Whether these are new players looking to get into the sport, players from other regions that you’d never get put on a team with, or long-running teammates that you can finally style on from across the field, this mix-up of the established order is refreshing.

This change can change the way that you had previously perceived or interacted with a player that you didn’t know too well. Looking at them from a new angle could change your view of them completely. Playing with new players to the scene helps give them a way into the community. It wasn’t too long ago (okay, maybe it was) that Kris and I were new to the scene, and the 2015 Sixes was where we first got a taste of the Korean Ultimate scene as a whole.

Communication is key, both on and off of the field

Due in part to this change in the rosters, hat teams tend to be chaotic. There is often very little structure to start off with, with everyone running around trying to get open. The easiest way to fix this is through communication. Talking to the team before the game, designating a simple formation and reinforcing that lead to everyone having a greater understanding of what was going on and enjoying it more as a result.

Communication is also important off of the field. The organisers of Sixes were once again excellent with their communication to players. Before the tournament, there were constant updates about the schedule, format, start and end times, weather, and party theme. This information helped us all plan our weekends, book transportation, and come to the party suitably prepared for the madness.

Myself and Inge, the most improved player on the Jackson 5. Well earned!

Promoting women’s Ultimate is vitally important to the sport

One of the most remarkable aspects of Ultimate is that it is a sport where both men and women can play on the same team. Despite this, women still have to work harder to be seen as athletes and valuable members of competitive teams than men do. Kris and I are both strong proponents of women’s Ultimate and women in the Ultimate community in general. So when Ollie, one of the organisers of Sixes (and bearer of one of the most majestic beards in Korean Ultimate) suggested that we play an all-women’s point in the game that we were playing, I leapt at the chance.

The reaction from all of the players was heart-warming. Even though each side only had just enough women to play the point, they were all more than happy to participate. The point was one of the most competitive of the entire game, and all of the players had beaming smiles on their faces for the whole point. My team managed to score the point, with every single lady on the line touching the disc.

I could (and will) write entire posts more about promoting women’s Ultimate, but even that small moment clearly meant a great deal to all of the players, highlighting the importance of doing everything possible to bring women’s Ultimate into the spotlight more.

Six on the Beach is a world-class beach hat tournament, worthy of travelling to Korea for

Previously I’ve said that Sixes is a must for any Ultimate player in Korea. After playing this year’s iteration, I expand that to the worldwide Ultimate community. It may be hosted in a small town in Korea, but there is no tournament I’ve yet been to with a bigger heart than Sixes. The community is welcoming. There is the perfect balance of fun and competition (with perfect balance, of course, leaning far towards the fun end). There is always a party. If you want to see what Korean Ultimate is all about, look no further than Six on the Beach.

All images courtesy of Cartographic Productions, except the Jackson 5 team photo.

Bonding and Re-bonding

I sit at Incheon airport, a place that has become strangely familiar to me over my time in Korea. Even though I normally only spend a few hours here with each visit, I find that there is far less change here than the rest of Korea. Restaurants and shops have largely remained in their same places. The procedures are generally the same. The process of arrive, check in the bags, go through security, go through immigration, find the gate, wait for the plane, then leave gives me some small comfort in the otherwise moderately stressful act of travelling.

For this visit, Kris and I will be returning to South Africa, mostly for her best friend’s wedding. I say mostly so as not to offend all of the South African-based friends and family that we will see while we are there. It’s also to see all of you, I swear!

This will be the second time that we’ve visited South Africa since we left for Korea and I started this blog. Last time was for our own wedding, and for a much longer period of time. With this visit, we will be staying for less than two weeks, and trying to cram in as many lunches, brunches, dinners, board games, Ultimate games, family meetups, and general socializing as we possibly can in that time. In our last visit, we had a much more relaxed social timetable, because we could afford it. We also were lucky enough to see a large portion of the significant people in our lives at the wedding.

While things might not have changed too much at Incheon airport, a great deal has changed in our family and friend situation back in South Africa. My entire immediate family will be working outside of South Africa before the end of this year. Kris’ mom has moved out of their long-time family home. Over our time in Korea, we have lost contact with many of our friends back in South Africa, with each year causing more friendships to fade from vivid experiences to sepia-toned memories. This is the nature of life. Situations change, and you have to adapt to your new environment.

However, we are excited to return and get in touch with everyone that we might have neglected to video chat or message in the past few months, or even years. We will undoubtedly have many a story to share with each other. There will also be those that we cannot meet up with, whether that be because of scheduling problems, distance, or even just sheer forgetfulness. Maybe this will cause a few more friendships to lose their luster, or maybe agonizing over the missed opportunity will be the splash of colour that livens a bond that was dulling.

Kris and I are both excited to be returning to the place that was once the only place we called home. Our lives are more diverse now, and we will be leaving our Korean home for a while to nestle back into our South African one. Oh, and eat our body weight in biltong, Cadbury’s and Gino’s.

Stifling Myself

Normally when I’ve had a long break between posts on here, I’ve been incredibly busy doing something like visiting another country, playing Ultimate, or just working hard at whatever teaching job I’ve had. That’s not the case this time. There haven’t been external factors preventing me from sitting down at the keyboard to type up a few words to share with all of you. There has only been one obstacle: my own fear, anxiety, laziness, and perfectionism.

In the time since I last wrote here, I have been entirely unemployed. I haven’t had a job to fill my time. I decided to try and strike away from teaching and get a job in the field I have skated alongside the edge of for years – the games industry.

I spent two months studying for a software testing certification. I was going to write a post about that, sharing my feelings of anxiety about the test. I chose not to write anything until after I passed or failed the test. I ended up passing the test comfortably. I was going to write the perfect post summarizing my journey. Then I thought I would wait until I actually had a job and share my happiness about that. I spent two months searching for a job. I was going to write a post about how despondent and disheartened I was becoming, but I thought that no-one would want to read such self-important garbage. People want to feel happy when they take the time away from their own busy, draining lives to read some mangled collection of words on the Internet. So I kept waiting for some positive news on the job front.

Every morning when I brushed my teeth, I would tell myself that this is the day that I would write that accursed blog post. I would find a particular angle to my experiences to try and spin it into an inspirational story about how sometimes chasing your dreams doesn’t quite work out the way that you wanted, but you learn from the experience. It would be motivational as hell. Then I would sit down at my laptop and never even open my blog. I was emotionally and creatively suffocated. In this time, I’d tell people I was funemployed, trying to change my career path. In reality, I just sat staring at translated versions of job postings, applying to any and every position I was even remotely qualified for, and many that I wasn’t. Days blurred together to the point that I would forget whether it was Monday or Wednesday. With every day that passed, it became harder to share what was happening.

All the while, I was going on miniature adventures: visiting friends across the country, exploring Seoul, completing video games, playing in Ultimate tournaments, even bonding more with my cat. I also have many events to look forward to. I’m heading back to South Africa in just over two weeks. I even have an interview for a potential position soon, and I am excited. It is partially a teaching position, and I will share more as time goes on. It has been something of a backup position for the past few months, and I am glad that it may work out. However, the knowledge of this position hasn’t changed for weeks. These experiences and anticipations were fogged by the drudgery of my job search. Not even the constant, unwavering support from my amazing wife stoked the fire of creativity within me. I felt that nothing I was doing was important or interesting enough to share. Until today.

Today, I just sat at my laptop, as I’ve done countless times in the last few months. I procrastinated, as I have so many times before. But then I actually opened my blog and started typing, like I should have months ago.  I knew it was an option but was still too caught up in myself to write. I’m not perfect. I’ve been less emotionally available in the past months than I can remember being. I’m working on it. It’s not easy. But I’m still here, and starting today, I won’t leave you in the dark, for both of our sakes.

 

Farewells and See You Laters

Every year, roughly twice a year, there are waves of new teachers arriving in Korea. Paired with these arrivals is an exodus, as teachers leave to teach elsewhere, return home, study, or pursue other careers. As the school semesters end in March and September, many contracts end at the same time. Each time this happens, Kris and have friends that we have garnered, through Ultimate or otherwise, say farewell to Korea. Each leaving season has had its share of painful goodbyes, but this particular one has been especially severe, with a number of our close friends choking up and promising to see us again and stay in contact.

With the regularity at which this happens, you’d think that it might get easier over time. The more people we see go, the more we get used to the idea that friendships forged in Korea will most likely have their nature change as people inevitably leave. For some, this is the case. We know of a good deal of people who are used to the cycle of new people arriving and old friends leaving. We even thought that we were beginning to become accustomed to its flow until this March arrived.

With every exodus, some claim that ‘Oh, this one was much worse than the other ones.’ This March, it was our turn to utter that oft-heard phrase. A number of our close friends decided to move on and move out. A couple that we’ve grown close to in Seoul over board games and gushing about our pets elected to see some of the world before looking for new teaching work. Luckily for us, that new teaching work happened to be in Korea again, so they will only be out of the country for a couple of months before returning. Another couple who we bonded with deeply despite only seeing a handful of times outside the Ultimate setting. A man who never ceased being the tallest or kindest person in any room decided to go back to the US and make it a better place (he hasn’t quite left yet, but he will soon, and definitely warrants a mention here). A fellow South African we met on our first ROK-U team, who we grew to know and love through playing far too many games of Dota and drinking too much red wine moved back to South Africa to pursue a new career path.

Some people steel themselves against the ever-present reality of people exiting Korea by avoiding new friendships to prevent getting hurt more regularly by exits. Kris and I cannot face that possibility. Some leaving seasons, we only lose touch with a couple of acquaintances and count ourselves lucky. Other times, like this March, we see a large portion of our core friend group get on planes elsewhere.

Leaving Korea doesn’t mean the end of these friendships, but it does instill a sense of longing for a return to the previous status quo. No longer can we simply pop down for a chat or meet for dinner. Now, there is online video chat and instant messaging, and perhaps meeting up if we land up being in the same country for some reason. Some friendships adapt to this change and survive, whereas others fade and dull over time.

The constant flow of expats through Korea (or, I’d imagine, any other country where foreign workers are hired) is a reality that is not mentioned when you are job hunting. There is no warning that people you grow attached to will bid you farewell on a semi-regular basis. It is a phenomenon that you learn of only through experiencing it. It hurts. Sometimes it hurts a little. Sometimes it leaves you on the verge of tears writing a string of words into the black void of the Internet to try and ease the pain.

Waiting for the End to Come

Every year, around this time, Kris and I become far less concerned about our current school year. With our contracts always ending at the end of February, we are always more worried about what is to come in March. While we initially thought that we might stay at our current job, a changing climate in education in Korea and the job itself has resulted in us once again looking for a new job to start in March. Kris has already successfully landed a position that she believes is far better suited to her, but I am still wading through the mire of job hunting to try and find that one job that is ideally-suited to me.

When we first started our current job, we were happy with the short hours and, for me, the short commute. However, as time has gone by, little problems have grown into larger issues. This is particularly true for Kris, who has more consistently had problems from the upper management of our company, and whose job situation was less ideal to begin with. She had to do a lot more commuting and deal with greater levels of bureaucracy than I did. Towards the end of last year, she decided that she would not be re-signing the contract, and began looking for a new job. In a stroke of luck, one of our close friends is leaving Korea, and her position would be vacant. Kris interviewed for the job and was accepted. Her new job may have longer hours, but it is 10 minutes from our house and will allow her more freedom to experiment with her teaching techniques.

For myself, I was content to continue in my current position. Unfortunately, the Korean government decided to discontinue English classes for first- and second-grade students at public elementary schools, effective from March. These students currently form more than half of my student base. As a result in the massive drop in potential students, the company has decided to not re-hire any teachers with my type of visa, and fill the gaps with part-time employees to save money. This decision makes economic sense for them, but it left me in the unfortunate position of looking for a job after the ordinary job season is mostly over. I am now scraping the bottom of the barrel for a position that is better than the average academy job, similar to the positions that Kris and I held in Dongtan in our first year of teaching. I am currently still being picky, and I hope to find something before I have to settle for a mediocre job.

We may be more settled in Seoul than we have ever been in Korea, but the cycle of going from job to job every year has not changed. Maybe this next job is one we stay at for more than a year. Maybe this next job will be our last year in Korea. Only the next twelve months will reveal what Korea has in store for us. I look forward to the new adventures, and, for now, look for a decent job to sustain us while we go on those adventures.