Through the Eyes of the Waygook - Where's the Heat

 As I sit at my desk, in my winter coat, praying for my birthday hangover to be over with. I feel as though I were a heroin addict shaking with fright, longing for that warm feeling, with this look of pain and confusion on my face. Why is there no heat in this school? Better yet- why has the soup this whole week been served cold. Seriously, the coldest week of the year thus far and it just happens to be cold soup week. Let's hope that changes today (they all got steadily warm as the week progressed).

Living in Thunder Bay for 5 treacherous winters of blistering cold I assumed I could handle a couple chilly days. However, my body is used to central heating in buildings, her I am constantly bundled up, drinking hot water, and dreaming of my warm cozy bed. Instead I'm in an icebox.

In the grade 3-4 classroom we are in the coldest room in the school. My school is shaped like a U and the wind runs right down the empty sand pit playground and into the classrooms along the bottom. The 3-4 class is right in the middle. The gusting winds are nuts. Thank goodness we close the windows. Oh wait, the air needs to circulate. Fucking awesome. So as I sit, stand, teach, praise, and preach in this classroom wrapped in all the clothes I ownI find myself picking up worksheets blown over by my new nemesis Arctic Winds. I thought Busan was tropical. I've seen a palm tree here.

Thankfully the heat comes on in December, let's hope no one changes their mind about that because I don't want to buy/ invent an electric snuggy that I will wear through winter.

An Ode to the GPS

So I woke up this morning, watched a movie, then ate a little bit of food. All of a sudden I started thinking about writing, so I grabbed a pen and my journal and started writing away. I attribute this spoken word/blank verse style of writing to having listened to Taylor Mali's spoken word performances on Youtube Friday afternoon.

This is what I came up with, its pretty raw so bare with me. Drafting shall begin shortly.

An Ode to the GPS

Most people use it to find things.
Get there,
Then go back home,
And sleep.
Others use it to search for something they want.
But everyone uses it when they're lost:
When your regular path is under construction.
The route to a co-worker's dinner party.
The little Greek restaurant on the other side of town.

It's handy, but the GPS is not needed: 

Every morning, waking up looking into the East Window.
Blinded by this golden city.
Looking out,
I never know where I am.

Walking outside into the subway to school.
No one speaks my language.
How else can I ask for direction?

Arriving at my destination,
After smelling the roses of the city,
I see all these wide-eyed faces
and big smiles.
This look of wonder and excitement brought on by a friendly,
"Good Morning."
These leaders of tomorrow look to me
as a guide.

Standing in the smokey,
tackle box bars or,
the clubs of pulsing lights.
The world disintegrates,
As I'm pulled into a sea of clear blue,
and then another,
one nose over.

I don't use a GPS to show me
where I'm going.
It's my rock,
it places me,
my location.
Through science, math, and satellites.

"No," says Brenda, voice option 7 on my GPS,
"You are not dreaming,
You live on planet Earth.
Not in some far away galaxy
Off the grid where everything
Feels right,
and in place."

"So this is real, Brenda?"
"Yes"
"Well, you could have fooled me."

Quarterly Report - A pre-blog story

Has it been 3 months already? In fact it's been more! It seems like forever since I've had a blog to occupy my afternoons and weekend downtime. So maybe I should regale you all in my exciting first week of school.

First day was exciting, teaching Grade 5s: a Grade I feel I know all too well, they love challenges, but they're still young enough to have fun. I had this PPT biography and a quiz after. I presented it to each class as the first lesson and now I never want to see it again.

Tuesday was cancelled due to a Typhoon warning, which turned out to be an overcast day in Busan, tricking me into believing that I'd be living in Floridaesque climate. Not the case, the second typhoon mangled two umbrellas in two days. The day off was nice though, having the opportunity to go out and bond with my co-teachers and the other specialist teacher, some of whom speak English. It was a really nice time. I also learned that day, chopsticks are necessary. For lunch we went to a restaurant famous for boiled fish which was littered with bones. While struggling to pick up, balance and cut up my food the other teachers were seamlessly picking fish bones off of their tongue, an act of pure skill.

Wednesday and Thursday were very similar to Monday. Meet new kids, hear "you so handsome" enough times it almost loses all meaning, but today it has. I kept meeting new teachers and was assigned my bonus-work which is conversation classes and broadcasting segments.

Friday is when I realized that I had entered a new world. The moment I walk into my shared office one co-teacher nonchalantly tells me you have to speak to the whole school. No pressure, just the whole school. Here I am thinking its casual Friday, wearing jeans and now I'm presenting myself to the entire school. "You'll be fine." My brain tells my whole body. So I go down to the broadcasting room, home of the ceiling of a thousand light bulbs. The reason today was such a big day, was a Grade 2 teacher's retirement after 40+ years, and followed by the introduction of myself and her replacement. Prior to this mega press conference everyone tried to speak English to me at the school. And now I'm here, four feet under the sun, listening intently for my name as a prompt and trying to decipher anything after "anyong -haseyo." Obviously in Korea "save the best for last" is not a thing because I was the last guest speaker. I sit behind the podium, red in the face, dripping sweat. I had a vague idea of what I was going to say and I kept to my mental script for the most part. Just act like the latest free agent: "Anyong haseyo. It’s great to be here, I feel really welcome so far, lots of energy, enthusiasm, and talent here and I couldn't be more excited about this upcoming year. Gam sam nida."  Worst part of my day is over with, right? Wrong.

Classes went smoothly which brought me to lunch where I find out I'm going to a retirement party in honour of a person I've never met and seen once. I had heard through the grape vine that Korean evenings are quite outrageous, lots of food, unlimited soju and beer and after an orientation that made my liver a little more calloused, I was prepared for the evening to come. What a Segway into the weekend!

A co-teacher drives me and two other teachers to the dinner. It wasn't anywhere special - just in the thick of the I-Park towers, the most opulent part of Busan! After we parked we went up to a banquet hall filled with my principal, vice principals, other specialist teachers and tons of people I had never seen before, who later turned out to be people who worked at the school. We picked out a table and sat down. After leaning back and closing my eyes feeling a well-overdue weeks’ worth of work float off my shoulders, I'm nudged by the MC.

"Garp, you'll be speaking in 5 minutes. I will call you when we will start."

NOT AGAIN. My eyes begin to linger on the beer and soju bottles at the centre of the table, all untouched. I refuse to be the party animal, after all, first impressions are everything. I sit there, waiting, silently hoping for a blackout, fire alarm, anything to postpone or cancel this: I just want to eat some food, have a beer and then go party with people who I can have a full conversation with.

Well I'm summoned to the front just off of the platform with two other people, a young woman I had never seen before, and the new teacher. My principal is speaking, and probably praising the hard work and long days of this teacher, and hopefully this diligent spirit carries on to one of the three of us rookies on the side. She makes her speech and bows to the audience. Being caught off guard by this obligation as well as fast-forwarding my life to when I retire I had no idea what I would say. This time whizzed by and before I knew it, last but certainly not least, Shraham Garp up to the podium.

There are points in your life when you are either so focused or out-of-body that you will instantly forget everything you said, thought of or did. That was the case for this rambling. I asked my table if I said the right things and they agreed, probably just so I don't run away.

Thankfully, the PE teacher offered me a beer when I sat down and blew out what I thought was all the stress and jitters in my body. But while pouring the beer for him (respecting my elders and Korean tradition of course) my hands were still shaking. Once I put the cool glass up to my mouth and took a sip, I won't say I felt great because then you'd think I'm an alcoholic, it felt refreshing. Still a little shaky but I was on the mend.

My table got up to go get food, all of which was great and after my third or fourth plate the Vice-Principal walks up to me and holds a shot glass out for me. But its empty I think to myself: quick fact, traditional Korean shots are all out of one shot glass. I'm up first, two hands on the shot glass for respect while he pours with one. Air cheers  to my future-self and put the glass back. Then he pats me on the shoulder and points over to the main table full of guys. It was a good time, lots of finger food I never saw at the buffet, so I gorged, but only a little, more on the spirits than the food. I also found out that the PE teacher is the same age as my father and I am the same age as his son who's living abroad - bizarro world.

I checked my phone to see the time: 8pm. I turn back to the table I sat at for dinner, deserted. I mention to the man next to that I need to get to the Dongbaek subway station to get home. He nods and finds some people leaving and sends me on the way with them. I politely thank him, when he tells me they're taking me to the station closest to my house. I gave him a hug and thanked him again, and walked off with the driver. It was a nice relaxing drive, I nearly dozed off from all the food and booze. We made it there in excellent time, I properly thanked them and while getting out of the car I marvelled at the major intersection thinking, “how cool is it you live here” and, “where do I live?” It’s funny how much a landscape changes from day to night. Either way I got home changed into shorts (how I miss those days) checked Facebook for party details and was on my way.

I don't really remember the evening but I guarantee it was packed with things I strongly hate now: HO bars, soju, Gangnam style, whistles, and gross unisex bathrooms (I never liked the last thing).

I guess now is appropriate as any other time to flaunt my second home in Korea: my office/ the media room/ library.

Book Nook with World Map and Clocks

My Desk 

Panoramic View of the School

School  Supplies Store

A collection of Big Book and a TV in the back left.

    

Through the Eyes of the Waygook - Pizza

Like any change in a person's life, you are bound to experience exciting, exotic, erotic, or even egregious events, evenings, and excursions. And so we begin the notes of the Waygook (foreigner):

Pizza:
This has been a major disappointment for me. Not just one thing, several. I have found out by sampling pizzas all over my neighborhood that Korean Pizza is, for lack of a better word, awful. There is always one good aspect I can always rely on, the cheese. That warm gooey creamy feeling I only get here from pizza since cheese on its own is an arm and a leg. Each pizzeria has some sort of unique unappealing novelty to it. The most recent pizza had a crust the colour of blue corn chips, and tasted similar. There's never dipping sauce, some times they'll give you a packet of two of hot sauce, but they always give you bread and butter pickles. The first time I opened one of these containers excited to dip my crusts, to discover pickles? I wanted to scream. However, one blasphemy I will never for get is the stuffed crust pizza. Koreans have this odd notion to put potato (sweet and regular, pureed or wedged) onto pizza. This seemed manageable for me because I love Boston Pizza's Spicy Perogy pizza, however, its not the same in Korea. Back to the stuffed crust, I order it walk around for a bit, come back and pick it up, and head home smelling the cheesy goodness. It was a long day at work and I just wanted some nice greasy food to sink me into a food coma and deep sleep. I open the box and pull off one of the little rolls of crust. I prepare for it like a kiss, eyes closed, lips puckered, mouth slightly open... only to heave it back into a napkin. I have shunned the taste from my memory but having paid 4,000 won for this sweet potato stuffed crust  I wasn't going to waste this. Special shout out to hot sauce for that one. I didn't even open the pickles that night. I sulked until I was too tired to sulk. I have discovered that pizza from places that claim to be Italian are the closest to Western pizza. There are Domino's and Pizza Huts but its overpriced and it looks like the Korean style pizzas with their sweet potato and corn bits (yeah, they put corn on pizza). My advice is to stick with Korean food when you're in Korea, it just makes sense.

Venting for a Solution

This Wednesday and Thursday the English teachers were in charge of judging English stories re-told by our students. This was on a volunteer basis. In typical Korean fashion, I found about this on Tuesday half-way through the day from a student. I asked about it after school was finished and my co-teacher (who is slowly transforming into some evil Disney queen) and gives me her automated message: "I don't think that's important for you." Here we go again.

Wednesday afternoon rolls around and set up begins in the classroom next to my office while itty-bitty Grade 3s are pacing rehearsing their stories around my office. Upon entering the classroom I'm given a "rubric" written in Hangul and a copy of each student's story. After skimming through most of the stories they are all folk tales which have been horribly translated into English and are entirely completely expositional. You betcha I got some examples:

"Not just lion, the lion was the most powerful and wise. He know that dogs and cats to counterbalance each other, he started to wonder how to reconcile them. . . Deepening friendship of dogs and cats, but the did not."

"I fly to Dream World. / "welcome, Dimpy" I meet new friends. / I go to the castle."

"Hello~ everyone, How are you today? / My name is ______ / I'm in the     4 grade. I'm a little nervous. Please listen my story well." (All of them memorize something like this, and yes they left the name line blank, and older grades failed to breeze through this.)

"Oh, my~ A mouse chews my hat. / 'Don't chew my hat. Go away!'/ A mouse is gone. 'I'm sad.'"

Due to nerves there were far more enunciation and grammar mishaps than I bothered to count. That's a little unfair, the first group of students was actually really impressive but as the students got older the quality dipped quite drastically. But all except for 4 or 5 had this dreary "my parents made me do this, I hate my life" voice which was really depressing. After judging the first batch of kids, I have come to realize that this is a complete joke: One co-teacher has merely ranked the students with no additional notes and the other two gave each student letter grades for the three categories. I made up my own criteria as anyone would for the first set so obviously my rankings were much different from theirs.

Judging these stories was beyond challenging for me. One student at a time came up with no notes and recited their story from memory. Then there were other kids who brought up visual aids, which gave them the story's plot line in a neatly wrapped package. I asked the Queen Bee if we mark them on visuals:

"It's up to you."

"Well do you?"

"Maybe, sometimes."

. . . Great. Then there was the issue of length and the amount of repetition. One child who brought in visuals that led her through a story about a star searching through a collection of shapes to find her missing piece repeated the same two lines, with minor adjustments, for less than a minute. The best ones stretched out to two minutes apiece, with expression and dramatic pause and no visuals. I'm only talking about the Grade 3's too, which were, by far, the best group as a whole: three of the seven students scored above 90%.

The Grade 4s, 5s, and 6s all shit the bed barring one or two exceptions. Maybe it’s because they have more homework and less free time. However, another factor was translating the rubric's criteria, courtesy of Google translator, so I could be on the same page as my CTs. Too bad all of the discussions post-story telling was in Korean. They asked me for my top 5 and then that was it. I could have slept, I could have rearranged all the desks, I could have farted as loud as humanly possible; they still wouldn't turn a head.

Four or five kids forgot their story which resulted in an incomplete mark. One really irked me though, this student who is one of the brightest ones I have the privilege of teaching told a story about Gandhi (I don’t think I even knew who Gandhi was in Grade 6) with a number of pauses and prompts but made it to the second last sentence. He was standing their silent hemming and hawing for what felt like an hour, until he resigned in Korean. I scored him as if he did not quit and he had the second highest score, tragic, instead a student with a story about arguably nothing placed third. C'est la vie.

Now after venting let's thread a silver lining through these dreary two days: If I am given the opportunity to return to my school I will organize and lead this story-telling contest to not only challenge students and their abilities while insuring fairness, but develop sound  marking schemes and expectations for each grade level. Expectations are necessary because there were students in Grade 5 using the same story as a Grade 3. For all I know they could have done this the past 2 years too. Sorry, back to happy/optimistic thoughts. I'm EXCITED to challenge myself here, who knows this might benefit me back home (job-permitting). I really like the concept of this event and it has so much potential to be AMAZING. There are a lot of Korean folk tales and a lot of them are in my library, most involve animals pranking one another. Hopefully, with some dramatic coaching these stories can be brought to life in the upcoming year, presuming I stay here.       

11/11

I know, it's only November, why would I be thinking, or complaining, about Valentine's Day? Perhaps love is in the air. Maybe I have a surplus of heart shaped things, or a lot of red surrounding me. Nope, I was reminded by consumption, the purpose behind this "loving" holiday, much like Pepero Day in Korea. For those who don't know Peperoes are crispy pastry sticks dipped in, or filled with fruity or chocolaty goodness. The holiday begins with the Pepero Company not meeting their expected profits. So what would any other company do in this situation? Fold up shop and hit the road? Lower their prices? Neither, they decided to transform Peperoes into a holiday, cleverly titled Pepero Day. When is Pepero day you ask: it’s the only date you can make using Peperoes. November 11th. How interesting, when North Americans and Europeans are honouring veterans and soldiers responsible for establishing and maintaining our freedoms, Koreans celebrate, and gorge on, sweets. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose. The thing that gets under my skin about this is there's no facade over Pepero Day, it's like calling Victoria Day Molson Canadian and Cheap Fireworks at the Cottage Day. However, my co-teacher told me that most people are opposed to this holiday because they recognize it as a money-grab. Still though, being on the receiving end of this holiday was really nice. So a Happy Remembrance Day and Happy Pepero Day: be thankful for your freedom and rights, and celebrate that with a little treat.  

Profiling some of the KBL's finest

Tuesday night I went to a Korean Basketball game. Hilarious. The Busan KT Sonicboom was heavily out matched by the Kwangju what’s-their-names. The teams are not entirely Korean, one "import" is allowed on the floor per team. These are the make or break players. The Sonicboom's starting import was the Dustin Byfuglien of the KBL. Ironically sporting number 23, he moseyed up and down the court, making horrible passes, and shooting bricks the entire game. Then there was my favourite Korean in the history of Asia. This guy was a complete joke. No skills, cement shoes, and a hair cut from a lawnmower. To conceal this last downfall he wore a white headband to contrast against his black hair and a neck-collar. It looked like a neck brace, which would explain why he sauntered up and down the court staying in the same spot on offence and doing much of the same on defence. On some of the opposition’s breakouts this guy didn’t make it to centre by the time Kwangju got a basket.

On the opposite side of the court, and spectrum, Kwangju had a winner on their side. I find the best skill a player can have is the ability to create scoring opportunities one on one and 41 did every time. Driving, pulling up, and dishing it off for an easy in, he did it all. He controlled the tempo at the 4-spot and lit up the stadium. It was like watching LBJ playing against high school kids. Sad really. 41 put up a quarter of his teams points like it was nothing. The final score was 82-71 for Kwangju who was up by 15 for most of the second half. I was surprised how much scoring there was but I feel the court was not as big as an NBA court.

The atmosphere was lots of fun. Typical Korean rules, BYOB and F (for food). Tragically, the HomePlus beside the stadium did not sell cold beer. Regardless, the beers were only 3,000 won and they were worth it: the stadium is a sauna. During commercial breaks the entertainment was very good: obstacle races, garbage can curling, cheerleaders, a rock paper scissors type game, child-friendly mascots and, of course, giveaways. All of which were done in 2 minutes or less apart from the half time show, which was twelve.  Lots of fun, I'd do it again, just to chirp the guy who cuts his own and can’t run.

It just goes to show, even when your home team sucks (Raptors or Leafs), you have to find something to cheer about.  

Doomsdays and Immortality

Usually I don't post more than one blog a day but this is one of those "I gotta say something about this." This evening I had an unexpected guest at my door. She was very polite in her opening, unlike back home where solicitors are in and out specialists. She led her way in with some small talk asking questions about me then talking about Hurricane Sandy. I thought this was a donation bit, but then she pulls out a leather bound Bible. Tune out time: "Yada yada yada [the almighty force in nature] said, 'Blip bleep baaahh.' Here's a magazine about what's happening in our world today."

I went about the rest of my evening as planned. Pretty low key, went downstairs to empty my recycling and then went to the store to pick-up some juice and eggs. As I'm waiting for the light to change a slick looking Korean man starts talking to me. Koreans are very outgoing and friendly people for the most part and don't usually hesitate to talk to strangers. So when he said "Hello, how are you." I just mentally rolled my eyes, here we go again, smiled back and nodded. Once we wrapped up our small talk he bluntly asked "Tell me, would you every like to live forever?" So you're one of these guys eh? The sharp-dressed slick hair philosophers of the business world. I gave him a lengthy explanation about how if I was immortal I'd put everything off because I'd always have time. Then he starts talking about how some newly discovered planet will pass Earth and its a sign of bad things to come. I'm starting to feel a little iffy about this guy now. As I turn to get into the elevator, yes he followed me into my building, he hands me this:

But of course, here I was thinking I was making a Korean friend, now I'm holding a magazine that's made out of something cheaper than newsprint after being played like a fiddle. So now solicitors don't just knock on your doors in Korea, they just find you. It's weird though, usually back home you would have to buy these magazines and here they're free. This is one of the many oddities and novelties of being in a new country. I did flip through these things with a critical eye and snapped a couple photos of some rather ridiculous artwork and typical crack-pot statements.

Its not a Halloween / Cultural Day without Mr. Bean.

This Wednesday was Halloween and also a culture day at my school. I dressed up as a cowboy in hopes of convincing students that Psy dances like a cowboy, but they didn’t believe it. It was also an excellent excuse to wear jeans. After teaching my final class of Grade 4s until December, I distributed ample amounts of candy to staff and admin. The exciting part is I still have candy to give away as prizes for special occasions and to snack on throughout my lonely afternoons in the library. Mmm green apple. Nonetheless, once the students caught wind that I had candy my class room was full to the brim with little faces eagerly saying, "Twick or Tweat" on every break, then in my afternoon as well. Luckily, that ended 2 hours early.

The specialist teachers (being science, art, English, P.E. etc.) Went to Igdae Park, the same place I went on Sunday. My camera was out of juice this time, so I didn't get any new photos, but the art teacher took it upon herself to be the photographer. We didn't walk as far as I did on Sunday, but it still beats desk warming. While walking back we saw more teachers from the school that left after classes were finished. Waiting at the highest point near the entrance, looking out at the skyline, I marvelled at the largest wild land animal I've seen since coming to Korea: a praying mantis, man-eater of the insect world, the size of a small bird. There’s reason to go back with a fully charged camera.

Next stop was a coffee shop. Like back home, its student central with very bohemian vibes and a blackboard. Being there made me feel old, and reminded me how stress-free I am here. Hey Professional Development, take the year off. My liver was not so fortunate. On we go to the restaurant. We arrived relatively early so I was sitting on the floor by myself for about 5 minutes while the PE teacher was catching up with the rest of the staff. In a rapid sequence one of the older gentlemen from the guy's night about a month ago (oddly enough I haven't seen him since then) kicks off his shoes orders two beers, sits across the from me, nods and smile takes the beers from our server, flips 2 glasses over, pops the cap off, and pours away. The two of us drink and snack while admin and the other guys filter in. Then those little green bottles of pain and memory loss rear their ugly labels.

I tried to avoid it as much as I could by shovelling deliciously spicy octopus meal to chase down those shots that are carbon-copies of vodka. The older teachers leave after the meal, along with the Principal and Vice Principal (the latter was staring me down the whole time we were eating, why I don't know, nor will I ever) leaving my youthful and fun-loving colleagues, most of whom speak enough English to carry a conversation about students, the school, being handsome, and being able to answer my ever so popular question "How do you say _____ in Korean?" (Grade 6 Lesson 12, they must have had a great teacher then). Once all the food was gone, the eldest paid on the school credit card and we went on ward into the night.

We travelled down a street, to the left and up another to stumble into a quaint restaurant with a second floor like the one in my loft. We travel up the narrow steps and are presented with some beers, soju and snacks.

One teacher who is very talkative and constantly happy tells me, "You are so handsome."

"Thank you but I'm handsome like famous people." I replied

"Yes, you are; you look like Mr. Bean"

Everyone erupts with laughter except for me and my rosy red cheeks and furrowed brow. REALLY? I think. He then proceeds to find pictures of Mr. Bean on his phone, showing them to me, then laughing even harder. I'm glad I'm loved here. I'd also like to point out I've been wearing a cowboy costume this entire time. For the rest of the night we talked about our favourite Mr. Bean moments.

One of the coolest things I witnessed there was the mass boilermaker line. Our eldest teacher poured out beer into 6 glasses in a tight line, then put half a shot of soju in each shot glass and stood 5 of them on the rims of the 6 glasses. It looked like the base of the pyramid. The last shot glass is the starting domino, you merely clink one of the shot glasses on the end and they all slide into a beer. What a clever way to serve such a delicious drink! The rest of the night, just as any other soju-related night, was forgettable (but for different reasons); nothing was lost, forgotten, or brought up that was out of the ordinary. Since Movember starts today, I asked the 3 male Korean teachers if they would grow mustaches. None of them would because their wives don't like it. Whether you're in Korea or Canada you have to abide by the wife/ girlfriend, guess I'll have to accept that eventually. But for now, I'll keep my Mexican stash in the making, my nights long, in hopes working my way up, or down actually, to a more respectable celebrity look-a-like.