So when did I really decide to go to Korea?

It was shortly after my Grandpa died last year.

I was grieving, angry, and thoroughly miserable. I was stuck in a job with a boss who was downright emotionally abusive, one who needed the flimsiest of provocations to berate me for hours upon end. My finances were so tight that I was living off of potatoes because it was, when I looked at how much they cost divided by the calories they provided, the cheapest foodstuff I could find, and regularly skipping fare for the Skytrain, hoping like hell I wasn't caught. Even then, I was still begging for money off of my parents. It was not a proud time for me.

Two things happened. I can't remember the order they happened in.

My parents informed me that I had inheritance money coming in. It was hardly the circumstances for a windfall that I wished for, but quite frankly, it saved my ass. I feel a lot of guilt about it, but so it is.

A woman came into the store I worked at - she looked younger than my own years, and definitely more optimistic - carrying a bundle of papers. She needed to send those papers off to Korea, because she had applied for EPIK and glories be, she got Seoul. I thought then, "Why the hell am I subjecting myself to this when she's going to have a goddamned adventure?"

I had been applying to hagwons at the time. After that, I told my recruiter that I was going to hold out for a public school and my employer that oops, I got an offer for a teaching position in Korea and incidentally, here's my notice. I lied when I told her that I actually accepted that offer, but fair's fair, she lied when she told me that she'd need me in for the rest of the month to help with the holiday rush. Thus, I didn't work for the whole of December. I passed my interview, documents were sent, I felt fresh and fancy-free now that I was rid of the poisonous influence of the Boss That Shall Not Be Named...

Then I got worried. I received no word back for an entire month whether I got a position or not. At the end of January, I started to make other plans. "Maybe Montreal," I thought. "Or Halifax. I don't know. Somewhere that's not here." I'd resigned myself to this, got the email from EPIK, less than three weeks before I'd be expected to go... then I subsequently launched myself into a panic attack.

My parents and brothers got me to buck up and accept the job offer. Thank the cosmic muffin they did. What would have befallen me if I'd declined it?

Chances are, I'd be working another shit job back here in Canada. That's one of the many reasons I'm going back to Korea in a month. There's many more, quite a few on the more positive end of the scale.

See you next year.

A new year is coming.

Very shortly for Korea. So I'd like to say, to all the friends I've made there who stuck by me - through all my drama, through all the times where I was, quite frankly, a pain in the ass...

Thank you. I love you a lot. No matter the quality of this year, whether it had been good, bad, average, or great, the next will be so much better for you.

The Hi Mart Dancing Girls Are My Enemies

I live not far from a busy road in Okdong. All day and almost all night, you can hear traffic rolling along down it, but this has become white noise to me by this point, and therefore, I am not annoyed by it. People have to get from one place to another.

On the other side of this road, there is a Hi Mart, which an electronics store. It's like Best Buy sans the media; the LG and Samsung stores come in roughly similar formats. On some days, there will be a mini stage set up with sound equipment. On the stage will be two dancing girls. They will be dressed alike in impractical sexy/cute outfits and they will be holdings mics. They will be dancing and making the occasional announcement using those mics.

Leaving aside gender issues for the time being (can't they at least having dancing boys now and again? for me?), I am convinced that the dancing girls want to see me destroyed.

The problem is that sound spits on the difference in distance between my apartment and the Hi Mart. "Oh, Kelsey, you think shutting the window will help you?" the sound seems to say. "You're so adorable, I could just pinch your cheeks." So the sound leaks through and I'm treated to an endless stream of muffled K-pop and indecipherable speech all the live-long day.

This is particularly bad, because I'm one of those people who cannot deal with any sort of music or talking if I want to get any work done. My concentration shatters. Headphones don't work - even listening to music of my own choosing has that effect. Earplugs hurt my ears. Do I try to soldier through the assault? Do I say 'fuck it' and go to Tous les Jours and hope that their radio is all quiet-like today? I've not yet found an adequate solution.

Are the dancing girls aware of the torment they inflict upon me? Common sense would suggest 'no'. My soul after being treated to the billionth repetition of Big Bang's 'Tonight' while struggling to churn out words in the right order would say 'yes'. To what purpose? That, I can't say. Maybe it's the only way they can entertain themselves on the job. Maybe it's part of a sinister master plan, the likes of which you'd have to have the mind of a Medici and the heart of a Borgia to discern. Probably the latter.

And that is why the Hi Mart dancing girls are my enemies. At least the yowling of stray cats is limited to the summer months.

I saw something horrible in Indis last night.

No, I did not see anyone shanked in a barfight or streakers or anything like that. I saw something worse.

Indis is a western bar that takes itself seriously enough that it has western-style toilets. (And a random hodge podge of Americana and a sizable, high insensitive statue of a Native American in front of the patio.) Inevitably, while I did not drink much that yesterday, I eventually had to travel to them in order to heed the call of nature. This I did. I opened the door of the first stall.

The seat was splattered with pee. This in itself is gross, but not worthy of comment on the internet.

Nay, the curious bit was the question of how exactly did pee splatter out in a one-foot radius on the floor around the bowl. How? Just how? If you mess up the bathroom procedure that badly, shouldn't you just go home? Shouldn't you have gone home well before that point? Or at least covered up your terrible crime through thorough application of toilet paper.

It was worse than anything I've seen with the squat toilets and people's aims tend to be... less than precise with those in bars. Vomit sprinkles, lovely.

This is why I used the second stall.

The dating situation in Andong sucks and I will tell you about it.

Not just for me, but for every westerner in town.

It comes down to simple mathematics. The fewer English speakers in town, the smaller the dating pool, the lower the chance that you will find someone with the right sort of chemistry. Thus, the power of science is against us.

So the vast majority of us wind up being frustrated pandas, bitching about our prospects while quaffing a beer in Indis. And nothing, in a manner of speaking, gets done.

Basically what I'm saying is, while I quite like where I am, there are times - there are times - where I wish I was in the big city. But on the plus side, I'm reading a shit load of books!

Ten Things I Like About Korea

It's been a long time since I last posted, has it not? Anyway, in case you weren't aware, I am staying here for at least another year, so why not review some of the reasons why?

Here you are, then, in no particular order and leaving out any mention of how much I'm paid:

1) The ease and cheapness of travel. Back in western Canada, if you don't have a vehicle, you have but three options: begging a ride off of someone, air travel, and the Greyhound. The first is unreliable. The second is expensive (if fast), and will only take you so many places. As for the third... Pricy, smelly, cramped, possessing of an extremely limited schedule, and regretably the only consistent way to get to the rural areas. Here in Korea, we've got trains, we've got buses, and it costs less than twenty bucks to get to Seoul. For a Canadian, this is magical.

2) The landscape. I grew up with very certain idea what a proper landscape possesses, namely, the more trees and the more mountains, the better. Does Korea have these things? Why, yes. Yes, it does.

3) The food. Oh, how I miss western food! I'll probably gorge myself on the stuff when I visit home. But if you tell me jjimdak isn't amazingly delicious, I will pity you, sir.

4) Pantyhose in convenience stores. Getting dressed in a snazzy fashion for work or a night on the town and find yourself faced with a run? 7-Eleven has your back. You can also get socks!

5) The internet. Do you think I ever managed to get 10 Mbs / second download speeds on my home network back in Canada? You're cute. You make me laugh.

6) The students. They're not perfect - heavens know that I wasn't at their age - but generally speaking, they're a good bunch. When they're enthusiastic, it's infectious.

7) Clothes shopping. It doesn't cost a lot to look good here and as a consequence, I have learned how to dress myself accordingly. Some articles are hard or impossible to shop for given my figure, but you win some, you lose some. Starsha, Ashley, you would be proud.

8) The extreme amount of museums. I've got a history degree, guys. This stuff is like catnip to me.

9) Noraebang. The setup is just so much nicer than karaoke generally has back home. Instead of getting to sing on average two songs over the course of several hours in a crowded bar, you get to sing until your lungs give out in a cozy room with your pals. The only problem is that a lot of my foreign friends are less apt to appreciate the beauty of the thing.

10) My coteachers. I lucked out. Big time. Two of them are in stiff competition for the title of "Nicest Lady Ever", two more I count among my friends and I greatly enjoy hanging out with them in and out of school, another one has been very helpful indeed in matters regarding transportation, getting set up, etc., despite his busy schedule, and the last, while I don't know her too well, generally strikes me as a sweetheart. In short, they rock.

That is all for now, but there are other reasons. If I wasn't writing this on a cellphone, I'd tell you about them.

Oh great, Canadian politics.

This has nothing to do with Korea, but I can't vote this election and I'm taking it out on you.

I suppose it happens to everyone when an election comes around: you look at the poll numbers, you look at the people, and you think, “What the hell are you thinking?”

It could very well be that we end up with yet another term for Harper. I shan’t say that it’s likely, because there’s two weeks left in the campaign and if history has taught me anything, it’s that you really can’t know for certain until the election. Sure, you can make some well-thought out predictions. But then, Turner was supposed to beat Mulroney in their second round.

The fact that this is even a possibility, though, pisses me right the fuck off.

We’re talking about a government that made a record number of senate appointees, had the brilliant idea to spend metric fuck tons on the G20 summit and hold it in Toronto with consequences no one could expect, thought the appropriate response to those times when the opposition parties showed balls was to shut Parliament down for months on end, thought there was no reason to be concerned about the economy in November 2008, continuously attempted to push through draconian American-esque copyright laws, slashed arts funding, made the census both pricier and fucking useless, and so many other sins that to list them all would make this paragraph unwieldy and grotesque.

They have proved themselves incapable of keeping the budget in the black and running it into the red responsibly. They delight in pushing their small little worldview on everyone, within Canada and without. Remind me again: why do you want them around?

Fuck, can you even remember the last genuinely solid Conservative government? Mulroney? (Yeah, ask Campbell how well that worked out.) Clark? (How can you even judge with so short a time in question?) Diefenbaker? (I’m pretty sure he stole people’s souls through his eyes. Look at his photos and tell me I’m wrong.)

Contrast that with the Liberals. Chretien was corrupt as an old floppy disk, but he could balance those budgets. Trudeau saved us from the further embarrassment of having to go and ask Mommy England if perhaps we might tweak our own damned constitution, please. Pearson gave us universal health care whilst dealing with the twin troubles of minority governments and Diefenbaker constantly trying to suck his soul out. They have been competent and occasionally capable of grandness, which is better than never achieving that state at all.

(They were also much more stylish and cool then Conservative PMs, Progressive or otherwise. The most stylish thing Harper has ever done was invoke John Lennon and might I remind you which PM Lennon actually hung out with?)

So please, dear Canadians, come May 2nd, please think and vote.

PS: This is not aimed towards any of my Canadian friends because you wouldn’t be my friends if you weren’t already in the habit of thinking, QED.

PPS: I also realise that voting against someone isn’t as sexy as voting for someone. Mayhaps I’ll write an ‘Ignatieff! Layton! May! They’re pretty great!’ post later.

PPPS: Maybe you ought to have a looksee at the CBC Vote Compass then mosey over to the Liberal, NDP and Green Party websites to read their platforms. It would make me happy.

PPPPS: Okay, mom. I’ve written a political rant. Are you happy now?

I am the best at updating.

Quite a bit has happened over the past couple of weeks. Let's discuss it, shall we?

I am now safely ensconced in Gyeong Am Girls' High School, in the teachers' lounge. Beside me sits one of my illustrious co-teachers, Go. I have six total, including the one at Dosan Middle School. My classes at Gyeong Am total seventeen with ten students each - at Dosan, I have three classes with fifteen students total.

Teaching has been committed. There's a learning curve involved, as I have to learn how to speak with EFL students who are much younger than I and who are not exposed to English every shining day. The bad news is that I'm pretty beholden to the textbook, although it looks like one week out of three, I can do my own thing. Provided classes aren't cancelled and suchlike.

Since the last post, I have discovered the other downtown of Andong, where I can go and try to find clothes and have a teeth-grinding fit when I find that nothing nice fits me, and commit acts of noraebang. (Noraebang, to those unaware, is karaoke.) There is a swell place that others have found with such timeless Korean hits as Don't Stop Me Now and The Immigrant Song, along with other songs with music videos that have nothing to do with the lyrics.

I have also ventured out of town, on my own volition. This was to visit my most esteemed brother Brady in Tongyeong. The journey stressed to me two things: a) payphones are clever devices for eating your change and allowing you to exercise your imagination by guessing what the other person said on the too-quiet line, and b) cellphones are useful devices for not sitting in a Lotte Mart for an hour more than necessary. I only applied for my ARC on Wednesday, but I cross my fingers every day for it to show up at my school so I can act on these revelations.

Otherwise, the trip was fun if short. Brady has a cheerful pack of friends for whom the maxim 'you can dance if you want to' doesn't go far enough. He also treated to me to fine Tongyeong cuisine, including a pork spine soup (I forget the name; it's tricky business trying to navigate that meal with chopsticks) and shabu shabu. He has LG-brand shampoo in his bathroom. Yes, as in the electronics company.

This weekend, I will remain in Andong, for a posse of South Africans are descending upon our city. Also, I will be playing host to the illustrious Jouelle! We will party and feast upon the fuzzy peaches, as true Canadians must.

I have to go now, for it is class time now. Keep everything safe in the meantime.

I LIVE.

Despite the best efforts of Google and Korean drivers, it should be noted.

I am now settled in Andong, in the north of the Gyeongbuk province. I haven't explored it too widely yet - I was going to yesterday, but the rain decided to come down in Vancouver proportions - but it seems pretty good so far. There is both a Lotte Mart and an E-Mart near my apartment, along with a lifetime's supply of 7-Elevens. And, as it happens, a lovely little cafe with wireless internet, which is where I'm writing this now.

I have neither a phone, nor interet access in my apartment, but I was led to not expect either until I get my Alien Registration Card, so whatever. I have developed a fervent hatred of PC bangs, due to their pirated copies of Internet Explorer which crash all the dratted time. I'd rather pay the extra 'pricy tea at a cafe' fee.

There is an incident I would like to relate.

It concerns a new friend of mine, Skye, whom I met at the orientation. On the first night here, I set off to visit here. I was armed with the address in both hangul and Roman letters and I flagged down a taxi with confidence. Only, when I tried to say it - and when I showed him the address - confusion set in.

So he drove. He drove for a while. He talked a lot as he did so, the meaning of his words almost entirely escaping me. Except when he tried to get across the concept of phone. He wanted to call the number that was written on the address, which turned out to belong to the landlady. I did not know that at the time. He drives about, calls the landlady a couple of times at loud volume and at great length, until we come to a halt outside the apartment building. The landlady, a tiny elderly woman, was waiting.

She practically yanked me out of the taxi and dragged me into the building and up the stairs, chattering excitedly the whole time. As it turns out, there was a reason why she was so happy to see me. I completed the trifecta of characteristics that differentiated Skye from the previous occupant of her apartment: she has friends, she is slim, and above all, she has no cats!

So that was fun.

Also, I have met some other pre-existing Andong teachers and they seem like pretty cool cats. Some of the other teachers at the orientation are settled near me, which is also swell. In front of a store near where I live, they sometimes have dancing girls. They must be very tired at the end of the day.

I ate raw garlic, which impressed the teachers from my school I had lunch with today. They introduced me to the concept of rice soup, which I find quite clever.

As for next weekend, I'm going to attempt to visit the ever-hospitable Jouelle in Seoul, where she will take me to a palace and Costco. (I'll have to find out where the train is, won't I?)

Oh, and apparently, BC has a new premier. Christy Clark, may you not be as much as an asshat as your predeccesor. I set such high standards for my province's politicians, don't I?

That is all for now. Don't burn the place to the ground while I'm out.

Post-Weekend Update

Saturday was horrible. The depths of my hatred for Saturday cannot be fathomed by any man, woman or beast. Do you like dealing with mysterious, foreign plumbing? While you're suffering from a massive headache that was, if not caused by, at least aggravated by the excessive volume of your instructors' mics? And by the world's slowest elevator? And classes all drat day?

No. No one does.

On the plus side, while Sunday was still chock full o' classes and the world's slowest elevator was still that, it was substantially more bearable. And Saturday did feature my first experience with soju, in sort of a pineapple-flavoured slush form. No, I did not get hammered; that would have been silly.

As for today (Monday), pictures must be forthcoming, because today featured our excursion to a traditional culture centre and the Hanok village tour. I got to paint bamboo, dance while wearing a monkey mask, pretend to be the mother of a bride, eat some delicious pastries that tasted a lot like the donuts mother used to make, go up a lot of stairs, dodge traffic in narrow streets, and look upon all sorts of strange and wonderful street merchandise. The best moment, though, had to be when a middle-aged gentleman came up to me to have a basic conversation in English. "Hello! How are you? It's warm weather today, isn't it? Have a good day!" and so on. It was awesome.

I'm not going to lie, though; I'm pretty frickin' tired. So I'm going to lie down and read now.

Pictures!

So it's just before seven AM at Jeonju University, where I'm having my orientation. I zonked out at nine, after swearing that I'd keep up until eleven so as to get myself back into the proper eight hours. By 'after', I mean 'five minutes'. I'm just that good.

Today marks the third day of orientation. We will have classes today; fun times! They've placed us in dormitories with two people to a dorm - my temporary roomie is a nice young lady from Orlando. (She likes Macs, but we won't hold that against her.) Most of the other teachers I seem to meet are from South Africa.

It's cold but not overly so here. There's enough snow on the ground to mess with traction. There's comforting mountains and trees that are strange and different.

But I know what you people want. So transparent! Well, here you are.

Boy Meets Girl; Boy Hides

John A. Macdonald surveys his domain - the view from my dorm. (John A.'s suffering from severe *ahem* 'jet lag', so he won't be featuring in too many pics for a bit.)
There's artwork on the long concrete wall seen outside my dorm, this being a small sample. This is also a 'behold the glories of zoom!' shot, for we're twelve floors up.During the opening ceremonies, they showed some awesome things, including drumming (if there's any Korean art I'd like to try, this is it)...Taekwondo (I didn't get many good pics of this for obvious reasons, but trust me, it was awesome)...And fan dancing (graceful and elegant in exactly the way I'm not).Finally, gaze upon my dinner, ye mighty, and despair.

That is all for now, for I must shower and breakfast.

Flying is Weird

First, before I begin, I'd like to point out that the entire journey, from leaving Abbotsford to checking in at YVR to the twelve-hour expanse of the flight, to the claiming of the baggage and whatnot, to the arrival at Jeonju University has taken less time than the shortest bus from Coquitlam to Lethbridge that Greyhound provides. And Greyhound has never fed me.

It has been a long, tiring day, with the definition of 'day' being stretched to the breaking point given the twelve hours of flying west. Here are some things I've learned:

1) Baggage is a bastard. If you think you've packed just enough, you've packed too much.

2) On such journeys, it is hard to tell when your next meal will be. Grab one when you can.

3) Don't fall asleep on the keyboard, which is what I'm threatening to do right now.

So as it's past midnight on the 18th so far as Seoul's concerned and I woke up at seven o'clock, Pacific time, on the 16th, maybe I ought to tuck myself in now. I have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my medical check-up tomorrow, after all. Huzzah!

The Night Before

The suitcases are packed. They did not hold as much as I'd have liked. The old apartment has been left behind in favour of my parents' house; they've still yet to divorce or murder each other.

I'm not nervous at the moment. Hurrah for atavan.

What's it going to be like? Will I like it? Who knows? I haven't any frame of reference for this thing. The farthest west I've gone is Vancouver Island. East? Halifax. South? Grand Coulee Dam. Now granted, Nova Scotia and the States are certainly foreign cultures to this British Columbian lass, but there's degrees here.

So, then.

If I never return, I leave it up to those left behind as to who gets my good crap.

Mitts off the lamp, Starsha.