I’ve seen a number of blogs covering their authors’ first day in a foreign country, and I have to say I didn’t really do a thorough job of it for Korea. Granted, I had arrived hot and sweaty to find it pouring rain and facing a four-hour bus ride, but who hasn’t? Rather than focus on the negatives of the adjustment from an exhausting 11-hour flight to settling in the land of the morning calm, I’d like to try and give you newbies a timeline covering both sides of the story, and hopefully provide a sense of order in what is a chaotic time for all of us. My first three days in South Korea.

Day 1, 5:00 AM

Arrive at Incheon International Airport. I’m one of those travelers who remains convinced his bags will be among those lost in transit; with every pass of that luggage carousel, my anxiety doubled: “They’re not going to be here… they must have been rerouted to Honolulu… oh god, what am I going to do…? I have a bus across the country to catch!” In actuality, my bags have been misplaced only once in my jaunts abroad, but even then, it was probably the least desirable destination to lose one’s bags: Haiti.

In this case, though I was one of the last people hanging around watching the same piece of black luggage pass by again and again and pretending to study the stamp in my passport like it contained vital information for my time in Korea, my familiar Seven Continents tag against a beige fabric caught my eye and I was good to go. Crisis averted.

Exiting customs, I quickly searched for the golden arches associated with some of the most disgusting food on the planet, and a pretty surefire way to ensure foreigners meet a company representative. At this time, I was unaware of my recruiter’s role in my coming to Korea. Although their company did email me the necessary paperwork, it seemed, compared to the certificate of authenticity required for Japanese visas, that I could have handled most of the bureaucratic nonsense on my own in Korea. Nevertheless, I was grateful a Mr. Kang soon met up with me and was there to guide me to the airport shuttle.

While waiting, I couldn’t help but feel so totally content at being back in Asia. Here was Family Mart, with its… oooh, not so familiar products. Once again, I was one of the few white faces in a sea of Koreans. Random western celebrities endorse Korean products and services; Pierce Brosman’s 007 persona seemed to beckon me towards the Lucky Seven Casino in Seoul. I was just standing there, in the middle of the arrival lounge, grinning like an idiot at anything and everything. And loving it.

Mr. Kang soon brought me back to reality, however, as we finally boarded the bus and made our way to east Seoul. I can’t remember too much about that journey: giggling at the Korean on the highway signs; ignoring my instinct to keep my eyes open as I dealt with exhaustion and the sound of rain plastering the windows. I might have slept, but I can be sure I didn’t say a single word to myself or my fellow travelers. Just too early for conversation (ironic that I now teach classes at the same time).

I was completely disoriented coming into Seoul. The only things that stick are a bunch of identical grey apartment buildings and the yellow guidelines on the sidewalks for blind pedestrians. Having seen the movie Inception the week before, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would awake from this dream of being in Korea and find myself in my bed, fifteen years old, ready to go to high school. Korea was preferable.

8:05 AM

My bus to Bugu, though I didn’t know it at the time. The only thing I had to go on, destination-wise, were the Korean characters I had written down in my moleskin journal in Dallas, the arrow pointing to —> 부구 on my ticket, and a general sense of where I’d be on the east coast. I had no clue as to what route the driver would take getting over there, and followed it as closely as I could on my Moon handbook map. I’m usually not so pent up about taking transportation in what I know is a reliable country, but I wanted the travel part of my journey (yes, there’s a difference) to be done with. Take a nap. Surf the internet. Go for a run in a new city. Try some Korean food. Having taken two airports for 15+ hours and ridden a bus into the heart of a foreign city, I had no patience left. Sad.

However, I couldn’t help but notice my driver seemed to be completely insane, darting in and out of traffic, driving on the access road, braking suddenly and gunning it whenever he could break away. Although my stomach took to it rather well, my brain was still trying to wrap itself around this concept: “Is this how all Korean bus drivers are? I never read about this!” Yes, they are. ESPECIALLY if they’re late.

12:30 PM

After ignoring the assigned seats, positioning myself closer to the front of the bus, and asking the driver two times to be let off in Bugu, we finally reached the small, small, small town. With each village we passed en route, I started imagining it to be my future home: “Oh, they have a giant crab statue, I can use as a landmark for Couchsurfers. Oh, there’s a hot springs; I’ll love going there every day. Ooooh, look at that beach! That’s gotta be my town!” Not so, but Bugu still had plenty of character for small-town Korea. For one, I knew it to be the home of a nuclear power plant, which provided big city amenities to workers. And second, it was a short commute to Deokgu Hot Springs, one of the main reasons I had decided on this area.

My bags were safely stored underneath the bus, so I assumed the driver would exit and open the hatch, as I had seen on countless Greyhound buses and MegaBuses in the US. When I said “bag” to the driver twice, he simply gestured down the stairs, probably curious as to why I was telling him about my bags. In Korea, you load up and offload your own luggage. Anyone who’s seen an ajumma hauling her wares on a local bus can confirm this (though sometimes a stranger helps out). It just hadn’t occurred to me.

Fortunately, I found my boss waiting for me with a car as soon as I had removed my black duffel and began pulling out the rolling luggage. He greeted me in English, and seemed very amicable, guiding me to the car where his four-year old boy was waiting, watching cartoons and picking his nose… later, he tried to rub them on me, but I’ll save that story for another day. Chan, as he told me to call him, drove me about 100 meters east to the apartment which would be my home for the next year. Inside, Ben, the outgoing teacher, was waiting with bags in hand. In retrospect, I wish I had been a little friendlier to him, maybe asking him out for a beer or something. But with my fatigue and his reluctance to talk, we kind of fell into a pattern of using Chan as an intermediary.

Lunch was 돈까스 in the “city” designed for the nuclear power plant workers. It’s one of the more elaborate meals I’ve had in Korea, with appetizers, side dishes, the main course, and dessert. After that, I couldn’t do much more than sleep for a few hours, telling Ben I’d like to meet up with him later that afternoon so he could show me around the town.

6:00 PM

I remember nothing of this tour as I was getting ready to pass out. Ben showed me where the five-day market would be, the local grocery store, the Family Mart, and pointed out the school and gym. The only thing that clearly stands out is me giving off the impression I was a pervert; I couldn’t help but notice that the apartment was attached to a noraebang, and asked Ben if he ever saw signs of prostitution in a town this size. He must have thought I was inquiring about the quality of service… ew… When we wrapped things up at the end of the day, him to the Green Motel and me to my new apartment, that was the last time I saw any foreigner for two weeks.

More to come… maybe I should have called this entry the first 24 hours?

I throw my opinion into the ongoing debate for incoming English teachers: public schools or privates (hagwons)? Most of the time, it’s a no-brainer: public schools for better vacations, stability, and sick days. But there are some reasons why you might want to risk a hagwon.

- One boy in my blue class actually pulled out a Harry Potter book (in Korean) and started to read in the middle of a lesson.
- A gold class student lied right to my face about something my boss said, then tried to play it off as a “white lie” when I called him on it.
- Students in all classes have a habit of just walking right out of the room when they have a questions for the “Korean teacher”, as if I’m not in charge of anything. They don’t even bother to tell me what they’re doing… just walk out.

Not that there haven’t been some good lessons. I’m learning to go with the flow in teaching my gold classes, as their textbook gives me the most flexibility. I enjoy dispelling myths about English and travel when the language barrier isn’t too much of a problem.

Still, after facing off with the kind of behavior mentioned above, I played out a really nasty situation in my head, that of just shouting at all my students (even the girls, who don’t really cause any problems), dragging them forcibly out of the classroom, and showing them how I, a stranger in their land, use a foreign language to survive. How they, possibly living in other countries in the future, would find themselves in situations in which people would not be nearly as tolerant; rather, they would get angry or laugh at their efforts. Why should I not laugh at their efforts when they show so little respect?

But I don’t do that. And maybe things will get better.

Last Thursday was the day for the university entrance examinations (수능) in Korea. It is a day everyone here knows well; some businesses are shut down, traffic is redirected to prevent noise pollution for the students, and, unknown to me at the time, lower-level students cheer for their classmates in the hours before school (thanks to Eat Your Kimchi). With a such a big day in education, I thought I’d comment on one of the 50 best inventions of 2010 according to Time: the English-speaking robot teacher, currently being used at a few private language schools, hagwon, in Korea.

To some who have never taught ESL, let alone in Asia, this might come as a shock. Surely, you think, a robot can’t replace a real teacher?

The whole idea didn’t surprise me in the least.

1. This only helps remove any final doubts as to how little Koreans value English education. Rather, how little they truly want to find methods to learn English effectively.

“It may be better to have a telepresence robot from a highly skilled teacher than to have just an average teacher in the classroom.”
Source: http://edition.cnn.com/2010/TECH/innovation/10/22/south.korea.robot.teachers/index.html

2. Ahh… so if a highly skilled teacher were physically in the classroom, there wouldn’t be a need for robots? Whose fault is that? Korea has absolutely no requirements for English teachers, save a degree and native speaking skills. No recruiter challenges it, no school questions the teacher they’re given for a year unless something big comes up. And regardless of this fact, what makes a “highly skilled teacher”? Charisma, classroom presence, voice… 99% percent of which can’t be used effectively when communicating through a machine.

“Another version of the Engkey, which doesn’t connect students to a human, uses voice recognition technology to help students practice their English pronunciation and dialogue.”

3. I seriously doubt it. If students could learn pronunciation that easily, they could stay at home and find the right voice samples online. There’s something to be said for a live voice, and a trained ear to hear mistakes.

“Children feel the robot is their friend… Robots are very helpful to enhance the concentration capability of children in class.”

4. Stop, I’m laughing too hard. Anyone who’s taught children in Korea should be doubled over by now. The article in question is referring to kindergarteners, 6-year-olds. They have a hard enough time sitting still in front of a human English teacher; either a Korean teacher has to yell at them to be quiet and pay attention, or a foreign teacher lets them run wild. I’ll grant you, the robot might focus the students’ attention, but not encourage to concentrate on studying English. More of a “Ooooh! Cool!” mentality.

“Due to the limitations on the current robotic technologies, robots cannot completely supplant human teachers in the educational field.”

5. I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Points 1-4 are meant to describe ideal teaching situations, but, obviously, that’s not what English teachers face in Korea. From what I’ve seen, foreign teachers might as well be robots: we’re mainly used for “listen and repeat” drills when it comes to children; as ALTs (assistant language teachers), we’re only used for pronunciation practice at the Korean teacher’s discretion; there’s little deviation from the course book, something that could easily be programmed into a robot. But going back to my first point, if the goal of the English education system is to show the face of progress without actually producing results, robots are the way to go. After all, they wouldn’t have to pay to fly in and accommodate native speakers, or put up with cultural differences. And, let’s face it, robots just look cool, even if they’re completely impractical.

Just make sure they obey the three laws…

Just like the Japanese, Koreans enjoy two types of insurance and pension plans: the national plan, which covers all citizens by default, and the employee plan, which is only available for companies that employ five or more workers. As an employee of a small hagwon (학원), I only qualify for the national plan. Unfortunately, since December 2008, foreigners are now required to be residents for at least three months before qualifying for health insurance. This means I’m not covered until mid-November. Not good. If you’d like more information, there’s an English language help line: 02-390-2000.

Seat Belts

Apparently only the front seat passengers are legally obligated to fasten their seat belts. Those in the rear, including young children who should be in car seats, are free to bounce around all they like.

Tap Water

I’ve been curious about this for a while. The teacher I replaced just filled up a few water jugs from the water purifier at the school to cut down costs. A 1-liter bottle only costs about 1USD here, but what about the tap water? I’m on the east coast, after all; shouldn’t that make a difference in the purification process? Everyone really raves about just how clean the water is here, from the transparency of the ocean to the water in the pipes.

Lonely Planet and Moon Handbooks suggest that travelers buy bottled water. Even though I’m in the countryside and nothing will probably ever come from drinking tap water, I’m going to play on the safe side. Just a personal decision. I’ve talked with other residents, including my boss, and it’s a sizable splint; many are afraid of the bacteria in tap water, but they admit they drink it occasionally.

Uljin

Uljin is famous for four things: the snow crab festival, its unique mushrooms, the Energy Farm (otherwise known as the nuclear power plant), and Deokgu hot springs. Good news! If you’re a resident of Uljin, you get a discount at the springs; those suckers can go ahead and pay 6000 Won/soak, I’m going to stick with 4500.

On Teaching English

I’ll report on the particulars here later. My boss is a ping-pong fiend, and proud of it, spending about 300,000 Won (~300USD) on a paddle imported from Japan.

The People of Uljin

They’re a good group. Certainly no racists, as far as I can see. I did have a bit of a confrontation the other day that left me confused. Turns out, I was taking the last bus south for the day, and the ticket taker and store attendant both tried to warn me I wouldn’t be able to get back to Bugu that night. I know they were just trying to help, but they doubted my abilities, and made us all uncomfortable.

Ordering Online

I haven’t had any problems getting Amazon.com packages delivered. Do people in Seoul rely a lot on online purchases as well? Because from where I stand, it seems that is the major form of shopping in Korea. Check these sites out:

http://english.gmarket.co.kr
http://weagookinmall.com
http://
www.ezshopkorea.com

http://www.expatexpress.com

http://www.auction.co.kr

“Shibuya in Action”, digika

Of course I had outings with Americans, Kiwis, English, Aussies, Canadians, even the occasional Jamaican… but 90% of the time, the Japanese language was my sole source of communication with others. I can just imagine my typical evening after AEON hours:

1. Finish my office paperwork and bid coworkers farewell with the customary “otsu kare sama deshita“. Emerge from the building on a cold winter’s night, just opposite a gas station.

2. I might pass a student, a kid, or a random passerby. Perhaps a friendly “konbanwa“.

3. Lawson convenience store for my usual turkey and pasta bento, with a heated bottle of green tea. Do I want it heated? Hai, shite kudasai. Any chopsticks with that? Hai, ippun o kudasai. Arigatou gozaimasu.

4. Finish the walk to my apartment building. I’ll probably catch another tenant in the elevator:

“Ahhh… Kimura-san. Ogenki desu ka?”
(I’m fine, Turner-san. How are you?)
“Genki des yo. Oyasumi nasai.”

Only when I’m back in my cramped 6-tatami mat quarters do I truly relax. After all, the internet is language neutral, though I’m sure most would agree English dominates. And this is a light, carefree evening. Imagine a full day of all Japanese. Now imagine a week. A month. A year. Five years…

There’s more to living abroad than embracing a different culture and being comfortable with your changing environment; the pressure of communicating in a foreign language builds up inside your brain without any realization. After all, you’re in Japan! An amazing, exciting experience! Who wouldn’t trade places with you?

I love Japan and I love traveling, but I get tired. There are long stretches when I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else on the planet, but there are also plenty of times when I would give my heart and soul to be surrounded by countrymen who understand my words, my upbringing, my way of thinking. How did I combat this in Japan, once I had learned to live well?

GetHiroshima Classifieds and Events

Hiroshima doesn’t exactly have the largest population of foreign residents in Japan, but there is a sizable number… enough to warrant the publication of a online resource for expats: GetHiroshima. Culture salons, 10Ks, Japanese wanting friends… I even got replies for a Texas Hold ‘Em group; we were soon meeting once a month for a nice cash game.

Nightclubs and Bars

I admit it, I went downtown many Saturday nights in effort not to hook up with random Japanese girls, but just to sit at the bar of an Irish pub and listen to background conversations… in English. Call me a language whore.

Blog Searches

By using Google Blogsearch, I was able to find many expats in my general area, and learn a great deal about them and their travel experience. You never know who’s reading.

I followed these same techniques in Kagoshima, and found the prefecture’s JET participants had a decent Facebook page; without that, I never would have ended up volunteering at an orphanage in Aira or cycling all the way around Sakurajima for the first time.

Everyone has their own ways of coping with this pressure of feeling like you’re the only one on the planet. Lost in Translation was such a success for showing this through film. Sometimes you do have to travel halfway around the planet… to come full circle.