Creatures of All Kinds

My second day in Korea resembled the first quite closely, although instead of spending the entire day with my future students, I shadowed in another classroom with the intention of getting a glimpse of a different teaching style. These new students formed a circle around me and began a lengthy inquisition. Most inquiries were straightforward, while others stumped me, including: “What is your favourite mystery?” In a puzzled voice, I asked if he meant mystery novel, to which he replied: “No, I mean, is it, like, the Bermuda Triangle, the sinking of Atlantis... ?” I was obviously taken a little by surprise. It had been a long time since I contemplated crop circles and the like. I told him it was probably the sinking of Atlantis, but that he’d certainly have to tell me more about it because my knowledge on the subject was quite limited. He bought the response and continued by asking questions I could answer more concretely, such as my favourite food. Interestingly, this little boy and I have much in common, including why green is our favourite colour! Funny how quickly I felt safe with him. A 23-year-old woman, feeling safe around a 7-year-old boy due to his taste in numbers? Stranger things have probably happened. In fact, they did shortly thereafter. After school, one of the Korean Teachers (there is one KT in every class), came into the staffroom with a young girl in tow. “Fran-zi!”, she sing-songed. I peeped out from around my desk. “This girl looks soooo much like you!” Intrigued, I stood up. As I stared at the child in question, I couldn’t help but say, “You’re joking, right?” Other KTs had gathered at this point and they were all nodding and concurring with each other. They truly believed that this 7-year-old Korean girl with a deep tan, almond eyes, and jet black hair, looked like me. Perhaps the resemblance will reveal itself to me in time...

Before going home on Tuesday, I briefly met with the director, Mark, to orient myself for the next few days. I must admit that I was feeling slightly overwhelmed, especially since the two classrooms I had now observed were as helpful to me as being on a Field Experience right before summer vacation: if they weren’t watching a movie, they were eating cake or playing Hot Seat. It helped just to vocalize my goals to Mark, so that a basic routine could start solidifying itself in my brain. After the meeting, I eagerly headed home, knowing that Morgan would have just arrived at the hotel. I only slowed down long enough to purchase two of those delicious veggie pockets at Paris Baguette.


Seeing Morgan’s face when I opened my door was wonderful. Here he was: my lover, friend, travel buddy, the person I would choose over anyone to investigate this fascinating country with. We quickly established that food was a primary concern, so we took a bus and ventured out into the city. Bus 60 took us to Beomgye, a busy little area full of shops, bars, and restaurants. With heavy-lidded eyes, Morgan agreed that perhaps it wasn’t the best night to try Korean food. So, comfort food it was and we hiked up the stairs to Mr. Pizza. Oh, Mr. Pizza. The slogan of the restaurant, “Love for Women”, was plastered on the windows, doors, menus, and waitresses’ shirts. The menu was full of great lines, like: “This pizza is for women conscious of wanting to live healthy lifestyle”. As Morgan half-slept standing up, I giggled like an idiot and took note of the abnormal amount of young women filling the restaurant. The slogan and descriptive menus seemed to be doing their jobs. After scanning the entire list of pizzas several times, it was evident that there was only one that was critter-free. A pleasant surprise was that it was one of the best vegetarian pizzas I’ve ever devoured.


Wednesday was a day dedicated to “taking care of business”. Song, one of the bigger cheeses at Maple Bear, was responsible for whisking me away from school and taking me to both the bank and the health clinic. Although many might not agree, I came to the conclusion that Song has a very healthy sense of humour. I was amused throughout the day with his simple jokes, and was happy to return the favour. I think that sharing laughter is so fundamental to bridging cultural differences... what better way of knowing you are on the same wavelength? In any case, whether you’re banking or getting your urine tested, you gotta be able to laugh. As I entered KB bank, I was shocked again by the pervasiveness of food smells in Korea. Fermented cabbage lightly perfumed the air, an unlikely odour in a place that one would have thought would smell of the metallic sweetness of coins and crisp paper bills. After more than an hour, and once a crack had finally revealed itself in Song’s longsuffering character, I finally had a Korean bank account. No, it does not have any money in it. Feel free to wire me cash at any point!


The health clinic amused me almost as much as Mr. Pizza. Does my shit stink? Sorry, come again? Oh yes, this was one of the many questions that poor Song had to translate for me, along with questions about excessive drinking, drugs, disease, and, yes, menstruation. His pained expression and his heartfelt apologies at invading my privacy should not have been amusing, but being as comfortable as I am with my ovaries and such, I couldn’t help but have a perma-smile throughout the questionnaire. Still, I believe we were both relieved when the last test was completed and we could go grab a bite to eat.


By the way... in Korea, people park anywhere. This means they can even park perpendicularly in front of you, like they did to Song during our bank-clinic adventure. However, Korea has also somewhat solved the issue by having drivers place their phone numbers on their front windshields. So, we called up the brat who had parked his car in front of Song’s and he came and moved it. Problem solved. This time.


The rest of Wednesday was more or less a write-off in terms of shadowing my classes. I arrived back at Maple Bear long enough to see my future grade one class (I teach them from 3:10-4:50pm) say a final goodbye to their teacher, and then the day was done. Morgan and I walked back to the Love Motel tired, but happy. Within about five minutes of entering his motel room, Morgan passed out on the bed, head in my lap. Starving, I gently rolled his head onto the bed and headed out to find us some takeout. Now, what I’m slowly discovering in Korea is that, because the city is an illuminated, flashing, neon jungle, I become almost entranced. Then I get lost. What should have been a quick walk to a “familiar” restaurant became a lengthy evening stroll. Again, I must emphasize that it was not a lengthy stroll by choice, but rather became one due to the fact that I forgot which “orange sign next to the green sign” was my restaurant. By luck, I eventually came across it, and I was pleased with myself that I was able to order in Korean (mind you I had written down what I wanted phonetically on a scrap of paper... kind of takes the swag out of my step). Morgan woke long enough to help me demolish the delicious bibimbap and kimbap and then passed out for good.


I slept restlessly during the night. I was teaching the next morning for the first time. My very own class for the very first time. I woke up several times, trying to force my memory open: “Do I know how to explain what a tapir is to kindergarten kids? Is it related to elephants or to rhinos? Why can’t I remember? It has a snout... when I was in grade one I claimed it was my favourite animal in Mr. Steiche’s computer class (seriously)...” The week’s theme was rainforest animals, and yet my students hadn’t learned anything about them due to the fact that their teacher wasn’t motivated to teach them much on her last three days. Although I have a decent grasp of many rainforest animals, the length and diet of an emerald tree boa was not in my brain bank. So, I stared into the darkness, awaiting peace to descend upon me. Somewhere between 5:00am and 7:30am, it did.


Thursday morning arrived. Morgan and I dressed to impress, made our breakfast pit stop at Paris Baguette, and arrive early to work. I was nervous... just a bit on edge. I was taking everything a little too seriously... had to have time to research about tapirs.


In case you haven’t Googled it by now, tapirs are related to rhinos.


The day went seamlessly. My steps, words, decisions fell so naturally into place that I felt a little bit like I was having an out-of-body experience. Okay, that sounds freakish and weird, but it did. I heard and saw myself and couldn’t believe it was happening. Franzi-Teacher was taking form before my very eyes. Was it really me? It certainly was. Explaining to 6-year-olds that macaws mate for life is definitely me. My grade one group in the afternoon made my transition from shadow to teacher feel just as smooth. We learned about differences in weight and strength by playing tug-o-war, nursed harsh rope burns, talked about Mount Everest... it was a jumble, but it was a good beginning.


Thursday evening, Morgan and I stopped at Little Pasta for dinner. Being vegetarian in Korea, as you may have deduced, is virtually impossible if you eat out all the time, and since we still didn’t have apartments of our own, eating out was the only way to get a hot meal. We figured Little Pasta could help us out. Along with our tomato sauce spaghetti, we ordered a “salad pizza”. We were famished and our first Korean veggie pizza had been fantastic. Well, imagine our surprise when, for once, the menu wasn’t translated strangely. “Salad pizza” was literally a green salad with mustard and balsamic vinegar on a round, thin, dry bread. Our message to you: Do not order salad pizza in Korea, not even if you want a salad. The spaghetti was gone in under 10 minutes.


After dinner, Morgan and I took a cab to E-Mart. The sharp smell of spearmint and the intermingling staleness of... hmmm... garlic breath in the cab struck me. Anyway, E-Mart is a huge department store chain in Korea. Supposedly Wal-Mart couldn’t make a go of it in this country because E-Mart is so rad. Rad is one word. Enormous is another. I can’t even elaborate right now. I must visit it several more times before I can tell you about all its nooks and crannies. Once we’d trudged throughout the store for 45 minutes, bedtime couldn’t come soon enough.


After having more than survived the first day, Friday morning was met with a renewed confidence. I cleaned out my desk, organized the classroom, completed a tentative schedule for myself, and took notes of things I still needed to do, learn, or understand. I brought my kindergarteners to the park, where a hornet decided to befriend me and scare off the children. It gave me time to walk around by myself (the hornet was literally latched onto my jeans) and observe. I learned that most Koreans don’t wear sunglasses, but rather they wear huge visors that block traffic as well as the sun. I also took note of the fact that there are exercise machines in parks. Straight up. If you want to do chest fly exercises, go to your local park, tell the kids who think your machine is a fun set of monkey bars to scram, and pump away. Later in the day I taught the kids how to sing Elephants Have Wrinkles. After going through all the motions and lyrics twice, they were so riled up that they were prancing around and making up their own little ditties to the same tune. I then asked them what wrinkles were and every one of them shrugged their shoulders and cocked their heads in an “I dunno” fashion. Dear Google, thank you for existing.


Once school was out, Song helped me move into my new apartment. Goodbye, Athenae Motel. You’ve been good to me. My apartment pleasantly surprised me. Although it is definitely quirky and needs some good, good loving, I believe it is a wonderful canvas to work with. I already have images of what it will look like once I’ve put even a little bit of work into it... a curtain to block off the washer... paintings. Plants. My zebra sheets. I’m excited to document the transformation via photographs. After inspecting the entire place and digging elbow deep in my luggage to locate a dress, I headed back to Maple Bear. All the English and Korean teachers were meeting to go to a farewell/welcome dinner. The restaurant was beautiful. A work of art standing tall, surrounded by even more art. Filled with art. A delight to the senses, especially the eyes. The warm light that the lanterns cast was perfect for photos, and Morgan spent as much time taking photos as eating. As dinner winded down and speeches were made, I began to really process the “family”, of sorts, that I was being adopted into. I’m truly excited.


After dinner, we all decided to continue the party at a bar in Beomgye. The Dug Out is a home-away-from-home for many ex-pats. A process began in my head about movies I’ve seen or books I’ve read about ex-pat communities in Africa. The taste that has been left in my mouth of ex-pat infested areas is one of comfort, intrigue, and repulsion. It is obviously comfortable to know that there are others “like” me in a foreign land. But, what does it mean to be like me? Skin? Language? I’m sure there are many Koreans that I have more in common with than the burly blond fellow who played billiards in Dug Out last night. Such places are intriguing in the sense that I want to know why people have left their homes. Escapism? Curiosity? Work? Love? And yet I’m slightly repulsed by it all, because it makes me wonder why we are all hiding together from a world we chose to come to. It seems foolish, juvenile, rude. Maybe that’s why I spent most of my evening talking to the Korean teachers, listening to their stories and sharing mine. I need to know them. I need to know what this place is about, not just what I’m about while I’m here.


The night ended with me deciding I would not opt out of the lunch program at school. Considering I basically eat only the rice, it is not really worth it for me to pay 30,000 won a month. But, Morgan showed me a reason to stash my lunch meat in a Tupperware and take it home: kittens. Eight, I think, and a mother with a broken tail. They are precious beyond belief and they will enjoy the anchovies, fish cakes, and clams I choose not to eat. I look forward to Monday’s lunch.