DMZ and stuff

The trip to the 'De-militarized zone' (DMZ) between South and North Korea passed off peacefully; thankfully the North Koreans refrained from shelling us or blowing us up. For our 78,000 won, we got to see some live minefields, the biggest flagpole in the world and a North Korean soldier. After gorging on jingoism and propaganda from the tour guide all afternoon, the bus made a special stop outside the souvenir shop, where I bought a bottle of North Korean blueberry wine. We went on the piss in Seoul afterwards, staying out all night in Itaewon and returnng to Sangju on the 7am bus. Here are some pics of the DMZ:




The last week dragged a little bit. Perhaps it's the short days, freezing cold weather, or the fact that it's the end of the school year and the kids couldn't be arsed learning anything - but the last week was a bit underwhelming. Without soccer or gym to keep the blood flowing, I've been quite lazy. Just a midwinter malaise, I suppose.

It snowed yesterday, leaving the city quite picturesque. I've been meaning to go for a walk in the wilderness near 'E-Mart hill' and take some nice, pretentious nature pictures, but the snow's thawing now, so I might wait until the next snowfall. I'll let you know how that goes.

Jeolla trip essay for EPIK

Went on that aforementioned 'obligatory cultural trip' at the weekend. We were told to write a two-page essay about the trip, with the best ones getting published in some book at the end of the year. This is my effort, churned out in a couple of hours earlier on. I hope they like it. I've tried to keep the invective to a minimum.

On the first weekend of November, I went on a Guest English Teacher’s trip to Jeolla province, on the Western side of South Korea, courtesy of EPIK. It was the first trip of its kind that I had attended; I had been to a co-teaching seminar in Gyeongju in May, but never a trip designed specifically for ‘culture’ and socializing. At first, I had my reservations about going. The trip would give me a Friday off work, but would also take a Saturday out of my weekend. I’m something of a free spirit; I will work diligently from Monday to Friday, but come the weekend or holidays, I’m not a huge fan of being told what to do or where to be. The previous weekend, I was hauled from my comfortable bed at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning to judge an English speech contest, so I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the prospect of a second week in a row of extra-curricular GET duties. Besides, I had already travelled quite extensively within Korea from my midlands home of Sangju.

Nevertheless, I approached the trip with an open mind. Jeolla was the only province I hadn’t already been to. My main co-teacher, ‘Patrick’ was accompanying me on the trip, and I was happy for that fact – his home town is Gunsan, and he was eager to show off his old stomping ground. It would also alleviate the need to organise my own transportation between Sangju and Daegu, where the buses were departing for the West. So, on Friday morning, I travelled to Daegu with Patrick and my American colleague, Lori. When we arrived at the office of education, I ran into a number of familiar faces from my March orientation group, including friends from the USA, South Africa and Northern Ireland, so my mood was quickly lifted. The ever-pleasant Mona Shin directed us towards our buses, and we set off for the Wild West.

I spent much of the journey catching up with sleep; I was up before dawn, so despite the bolt-upright bus seats, it was relatively easy to nod off. When we eventually arrived in Jeonju, we found that the Hite brewery tour was cancelled, due to an inspection. This was slightly disappointing, as I was half-expecting it to be like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, complete with Oompa-Loompas, beer fountains, rollercoasters and bottomless stein-mugs of the wonderful lager that is Hite. But we were to be denied. Now I’ll never truly know how much formaldehyde and other toxins they actually put in their crippling hangover-inducing, liver-rupturing death juice.

After a brief trip to a museum, we had some ‘special’ Jeonju bibimbap in a restaurant. Lets be honest, it tasted exactly the same as normal bibimbap. There’s only so much you can do with rice, red-pepper paste, egg and stringy vegetables. Still, it filled a hole, and after that, we went to the Hanok traditional village. After a short but impressive Pansori performance, which reminded me slightly of Mongolian throat-singing, we descended into the village. I saw an exhibition of traditional rice-cake making, and was offered free samples. Now, a few weeks previously, I had eaten some kind of flavoured rice-cake mixture which induced near-immediate vomitus, so I was rather reluctant to partake in the finished product. Rice-cake is one of those traditional Korean foods – along with the horrifying silkworm cocoons – that do not agree with my Irish palate. I’ll try anything once, but will not promise that I’ll enjoy it. Rice cake tastes of absolutely nothing, and the texture is akin to that of ectoplasm. So, not to deviate too far from the narrative, I joined some buddies from Mungyeong over a few nice bottles of Maekkoli. The afternoon sun shone down mildly upon us, as we feasted upon the sweet, creamy goodness, and chatted the hours away.


After that, we sped off to our restaurant, where bottles of soju were devoured in admirable quantities. I was quite merry after a few glasses, and we got back on our buses in high spirits. To our delight, the novelty of ‘Norae-bus’ was fully operational for the hour-long trip to Gunsan. I did a wonderful duet with Max Irvine, the Beatles Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds being our object of butchery. After we hit the hotel, more bottles of soju were consumed in one of the rooms, and a happy set of warriors hit the sack. I somehow managed to misplace my shirt and name-tag, but reclaimed them from a fellow reveller in the morning.


Despite a raging hangover and minimal sleep, I got on the bus in plenty of time, and at around 9 o’clock, we set off to see the very impressive, Netherlands-esque, land-reclamation project near Gunsan. After that, we set off on the road east, back through Jeonju. I fell asleep for a little while, and the next thing I knew, we were at a monastery of some sort. Now, again at the risk of sounding like a cultureless thug, our visit to this temple reaffirmed my sneaking suspicion that all Korean temples – however impressive – all look exactly the same. I bought a nice necklace with a Buddha pendant in one of the gift shops, though.

Onwards we went, after our Lotteria lunch, to Maisan National Park, with the distinctive ‘horse’s ears’ rock formations. Walking up the main path, I almost gagged on the pungent, wafting aroma of boiled silkworm. I rejoined my co-teacher for the walk, and, as we walked past a stone Buddha, we wondered aloud if the great man was fond of a sup of soju in his day. At that very moment, a large branch fell from an overhead tree and crashed to the ground no more than two feet from me. It would have caused considerable injury had I been walking one pace to my left. It seems like the great Buddha has learned something from the Abrahamic Gods about the concept of wrath.

So, that was the last landmark of our trip to Jeolla. We made our way back to the bus and sped towards Daegu, another two hours away. I retreated into the comfort of my I-pod for the remainder of the journey, and once we reached our destination, the waegook chingus bade each other farewell. I’ve just realised that I have to fill another few paragraphs, so I’ll regale you with the story of my journey home.

My travelling companion had to get back to Sangju bus terminal before 8:30 for his trip to Seoul, and he had an hour to spare when we left the office of education. Given that it’s a journey of roughly seventy minutes, he was in quite a hurry. We ran into heavy traffic outside of Daegu, and once that was negotiated, he put the foot down. After narrowly escaping death on several occasions, we got to the outskirts of Sangju with ten minutes to spare. I’ve never seen such imagination and cunning in the defiance of red lights in all my years as a passenger, and we were both in a fit of giggles when we got into town. We reached the bus terminal just in time to see the Seoul bus pulling away, much to my friend's despair. It was a fun ride, though, and I was happy to get home earlier than expected. So I went back to my apartment, made a tomato and mushroom omelette, watched a bit of EPL football, watched the Irish rugby team’s pathetic defeat to South Africa, and drifted into a welcome twelve-hour sleep.

So, what did I learn from my experience? Well, I learned that I can add Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds to my noraebang repertoire. I learned that bibimbap and temples are not terribly different across the Gyeongbuk/Jeolla divide. I learned about Pansori singing and Korean sea-land reclamation. I also learned how to dodge a Korean red light if you’re in a hurry. And I made a few new friends and got drunk in a new province. All in all, it was a worthwhile experience.

Korean Cuisine and associated Scat

The last two evenings, I've been obliged to join the rest of my co-workers - in both English Town and Sangju Elementary - for meals at traditional Korean restaurants. As a direct result, I've got to spend some extended 'quality time' with my toilet. It may be the rainy season in Korea, but the only thunderous, torrential downpours I've experienced have come indoors, from my ignoble behind. A surfeit of Korean cuisine has given me, in Irish parlance, 'an awful case of the scutters'.

The Korean culinary novelty has pretty much worn off. They will eat anything and everything here, including seaweed, dandelions, silkworms, fish-heads, canines... pretty much anything that they can cook and consume without inducing serious liver/stomach damage. They justify consumption of these culinary abortions by claiming that they're 'good for health'. I've (just about) become desensitized to kimchi - the beloved national dish of (seemingly) petrol-fermented cabbage - and some of the spicy meat we get is good and tasty... But the side dishes are always exactly the same, consisting of unbearably strong red-pepper paste, whole cloves of garlic (with no way of cutting or grinding them) and bits of plant stems and grass that they pass as edible by simply dousing them in spicy shit. We also have 'rice cakes' with lots of dishes, which are basically rubber-ish balls of torrid blandness, which are incredibly difficult to chew and digest. But, of course, they're 'good for health' - despite the fact that many of these offending items have a consistent habit of lodging between one's teeth and taking up a long-term residence therein.

Soups are a mandatory part of most meals, a fact which has directly contributed to my anal ailment of late. Seaweed soup, which we get twice a week in the school canteen, tastes exactly as it sounds. The soups here have a tendency to exit the body in roughly the same form that they entered. Korean toilets traditionally do not flush with the velocity of their Western counterparts, so they are ill-equipped to deal with the good, sturdy logs borne of a wholesome Western diet. Maybe it's no coincidence that Korean society is supportive of the scutters.

(I know what you're thinking. Jesus Christ, Greg, enough with the diarrhoea already. I'm aware that this is more information than you need to know, but this blog is a 'warts and all' account, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, who's actually reading this?)

Luckily for me, more 'sturdy' food is easy enough to find. Paris Baguette and Tous le Jours have some nice hot-dogs and pastries if I need to skip lunch, while E-Mart and Home Mart - both a stone's throw from my apartment - have everything I need to cook my own dinners. Chicken, pasta, spuds, noodles, carrots, broccoli, etc. There's decent pizza at La Dicello (shite pasta, though), and a take-away place that can provide the miracle of boneless deep-fried chicken, seasoned with spring onions. Unlike Bulgaria, bread, butter and milk are readily available, though not of the high standard of my extremely agricultural homeland. Good cheese, beef and tea are the only things I miss from home, but still hardly worth pining over. I think I may have found the basic necessities for a decent fry-up, too.

Some of the Korean stuff is genuinely tasty, but if I'm eating it every single day, lunch and dinner, then I do run the risk of a prolapsed rectum before too long.

12th of July; Footie and tequila

It's been an interesting few days. Last Monday, I got a lift to an English Town meeting with my co-teacher Jio's husband, 'Tom'. En route, he enthusiastically enquired about my willingness to join a soccer team. I replied in the affirmative. When asked 'What is your level?' I thought about saying 'shite', but truthfully informed him that while my technique and shooting are adequate, my general physical condition (i.e. strength and stamina) has been woeful for as long as I care to remember. He invited me to come along to a 5-a-side astroturf game that Friday.

I invested in a pair of boots and a ball, and went along to the session. I scored five goals in a 10-9 win, generally impressing my exclusively Korean team-mates. The pace was decent enough, but the Korean lads tend to be a bit lax on the defensive side of the game. I was able to find much more space, beat men and get my passes away than I would in Ireland, where the style of play is more 'physical'. I did run out of steam towards the end, so I went in goal, where I blocked a late point-blank effort with my genitalia. This left me in some discomfort, but I was amused by Tom's assertion that 'it hurt more for you - European penis very big'!

The following morning, I played a full-length, full-pitch game against one of the other Sangju teams. Still somewhat stiff from the previous evening, I didn't make much of an impact at first. I was playing on the left wing, hoping for licence to drift infield, but our left-back had a tendency to neglect his defensive duties, so I spent a lot of time and effort covering him. I did have a decent shot saved, though, on a rare foray infield. In the middle of the second half, with the score at 4-4, I drifted in behind the strikers, as I wasn't seeing much of the ball. Almost immediately, I got on the end of a lay-off from one of the strikers and drilled it into the bottom corner from just outside the box. We ended up winning 6-4, but I was a passenger for the last fifteen minutes, thanks to exhaustion and blisters on my foot. A good workout nonetheless, and I feel comfortable with the general standard and style of play, which makes a change from my usual timid displays on the UL astroturf/indoor pitches.

On Saturday night, I ended up getting plastered with Joe, Simon and Adam, in celebration of Mr. Leiner's birthday. The beer went down very well, and in enormous quantities, and it was all compounded by some tequila at the end of the night. I ill-advisedly cycled home, and as far as I recall, was all over the road. I lost my bike lock somewhere along the way, which I didn't realise until this morning. Still a bit run-down and tired today, especially after watching the World Cup final last night. One more class to go, though - but I have to do five lesson plans in the next 24 hours. Could be a bit of a disaster...

8th of July; English Camps are rubbish

The end of this World Cup will be bittersweet for me. Part of me will be sad at the conclusion of the world's greatest competition, while part of me will be relieved that I won't be compelled to stay up until ungodly hours of the night anymore. With a packed schedule over the next four weeks, I need to be more energetic than it's possible to be after a broken four-hour sleep. Also, my Championship Manager exploits have come to a head, it seems. Having guided Eastbourne Borough to a respectable 13th in the Premier League, I went on a foreign spending spree, in an attempt to take the club 'to the next level'. However, after about three painstaking close-season hours tinkering with the squad, and a successful tour of Turkey, my laptop decided to be a wanker, and froze. Three hours down the drain, and I don't really feel bothered about taking it all up again. Besides, after eight seasons, I think I've taken the club as far as it can go; with my guitar gathering dust, several songs unfinished, and my Korean linguistic skills still in the 'shamefully ignorant' stage, maybe it's for the best that I'm eschewing such an idle distraction. I could just load from the previous saved date, but no, I think that would be just on the cusp of the 'Get a life' realm.

English camps loom large on the horizon, and I would be looking forward to them - except that my two-week camp is making me do boring, rigid 'key expression' lesson plans, which will be pretty much the same as the remedial English they learn from elementary textbooks. The ethos in public schools is 'don't leave anyone behind', so the lessons tend to be excruciatingly boring for the kids who actually have a decent level of English, who go to hagwons and English camps. I generally have more behavioural problems with my gifted kids than I do from the low-level ones. Coming from public schools in rural Wexford, where intelligent, thoughtful students were forced to share classrooms with scores of inbred, knuckle-dragging morons, I have something of a problem with this mixed-level, go-slow policy. My (shamelessly elitist/pragmatic) attitude is; 'Encourage, challenge and stimulate the kids who actually want to learn'. Learning a foreign language is an incredibly difficult individual undertaking, and a child will only learn as much as he/she consciously puts into it. They won't just magically pick it up from sitting in a classroom listening to a foreign teacher. Some kids will just point-blank refuse to participate in the class, because they (a) have no interest, and/or (b) are simply too dumb. I don't generally waste too much time on these kids. If it was a private school, it'd be a different story, because the parents are paying the wages, and there's a real reason for the kids to be there... but these kids are in my classroom because there's nowhere else to put them. If I can keep the dum-dums from disrupting the lesson, and I'm actually teaching rather than babysitting, mission accomplished.

Back to the point, it seems like the English Camp classes will even be mixed from 4th to 6th grades, where the difference in levels in the same class will be ridiculous. It's a shame, because English Camps are a great opportunity for gifted kids to challenge themselves, develop and practice what they know in a creative, open setting - not to be hand-walked through a regimental series of mundane, facile activities.

Just finished teaching my 5th graders. We had a vocabulary game, with the class divided into four teams, and I'm glad to say everyone participated, had fun, and seemed to grasp the grammatical concept behind it all. I asked the kids to make up their own English team names, and among the predictable ones like 'The Tigers', 'The Smartest' and 'Manchester', the 'troublesome' boys chose that inspiring moniker; 'The Republic of Ireland'. And guess what? They won by a point!

P.S. I believe in Paul the Octopus.

May 9th, Man's eternal struggle against Nature

My phone erupts with an ostentatiously loud, undeniably Korean alarm call. 6:45. Six. Fucking. Forty. Five. On a Saturday. And I'm awake. It's a long way from being on the dole, crawling out of bed after noon; regarding the monthly 8:30 rise to 'sign on' in Dominic Street as being an ungodly, body-clock wrecking ordeal. The reason I'm up at this hour is the 'Sangju to Jeomchon Hike' - a gruelling twenty-eight kilometre trek across the mountains and farmland of Sangju county. A trek into unfamiliar territory.

At eight o'clock, I joined Joe and my fellow Sangju-ites Julian and Jessica at the bus station. Joining us were a couple of lads from Jeomchon and Gumi (Giovanni and Thomas), a few Koreans, and Margaret, whose place I had taken at Sangju Elementary. After waiting for everyone to assemble, and being introduced to Julian's faithful mascot 'The Commissioner', we set off into the hills near Sangju. At first, my worn Asics runners were struggling on the dry, hilly terrain through the forest, but I found a good old stick to help me with the treacherous downhill pathways. The first two hours or so were spent on the mountain. We took a wrong turn at one stage, despite Jessica's assertion that she was '190 per cent' sure of the way! We eventually descended into the rice-fields, taking a few dirt-tracks before resorting to the road. A bus-driver actually stopped upon seeing our group, and presented us with a cake. Can't beat Korean generosity. Don't think that would happen with the Limerick City bus.

Just before we reached the reservoir, we saw a baby snake - which our Korean friend Whee insisted was poisonous. When we got to the reservoir, we stopped for lunch. I brought a Twix, a Snickers, and a couple of cans of tuna. Apparently, despite being motivated for an all-day hike, I'm too lazy to make sandwiches. After recharging the batteries, we ploughed onwards. Our next landmark was a river, and we reached this at a small, ramshackle village, apparently named 'Daegu'. Since the village shares its name with the bustling metropolis down south, many a joke was had about Korea's third-largest city falling on remarkably hard times. We happened upon a small shop, where Giovanni purchased a bottle of soju. The few shots I took seemed to reduce the pain in my legs, as we battled toward the river.

The river - just as the reservoir had - provided some outstanding scenery, with several rocky outcrops and evergreen trees in the backdrop. After coming through a particularly nice pathway, crossing an orchard and a nice bit of hill, we came to a dam. Julian advocated that we wade across the shallow part of the river, scale the dam (a vertical, 20-foot climb if we couldn't find steps up) and try to find a path which didn't actually seem to exist. While I admired our Fearless Leader's rustic sense of adventure throughout, that one was - literally - a bridge too far, and the group elected to go the longer, but considerably safer, way around.

The last ten kilometres of the journey was generally through flat farmland - seeing a squirrel was arguably the highlight. We stopped to rest outside some farmhouse, as a heavily crippled man stumbled/crawled up to us to inspect our strange Waegook faces. Myself and Joe then - rather guiltily - speculated that he had come from Monty Python's 'Ministry of Funny Walks'. We're possibly both going to Hell.

The fatigue was starting to kick in then - it was pushing six o'clock, and we had passed the 23 kilometre-mark, with about seven left. We ploughed on, crossing the train-tracks. Julian suggested we follow the tracks to Jeomchon, but thankfully we didn't take up that route - the train sped by a few minutes later. We reached a small village, where cans of beer and ice-cream were imbibed. With the light fading, we finally made it to the outskirts of Jeomchon. Fifteen minutes of agonising hikeage later, we found our final destination, the beef restaurant - which, to our horror, was closed. After what seemed like an eternity, we found somewhere else, and sat down to our delicious dinner of Samgyeopsal - grilled pork slices. Yum.

All in all, it was about a 31 km hike, give or take a few kilometres for elevation in the initial stages. It took roughly eleven hours, and I'm still quite stiff and sore, writing the day after. It was well worth it, though. Saw some excellent scenery, nice views, a bit of wildlife, and had a good laugh with a nice crowd. I would gladly have stayed along for more booze, but I had left my wallet at home, and had barely brought enough cash for food and the anticipated bus home. As it turned out, myself and Margaret were offered a lift home with Whee, and it made sense to take it.

It was only on the way back that we realised how far we had trekked. It was twenty-five minutes by car, taking a direct highway. Easily my longest ever hike, and a thoroughly enjoyable one. Can't wait to do more.

6th of May; Larvae and humidity

Just sitting in my office with the window open, trying desperately to assuage the stifling humidity. It's cloudy outside, with a slight relieving breeze, but it really is very warm. I used the air-conditioning in my apartment for the first time last night; didn't think it made much of a difference until I went into the kitchen this morning, to be greeted by a blast of mugginess. Still, I can't complain; the consistently underwhelming Irish summer isn't exactly something to get nostalgic about.

Yesterday was Children's day, hence, a day off. I went drinking and 'Noraebanging' on Tuesday night (myself and Simon chanting football songs to the bemusement of all), so half of my day off was spent in bed, sweating it all out. I went for a meal with my new friend Sun-Young in the evening, in a very distinctive place that looked like something from the Flintstones. Had some decent spicy chicken, even if my stomach was slightly the worse for the previous night's drink. There's a hike planned this weekend - a 25 kilometre trek from Sangju to Jeomchon, which should take about ten hours. Slightly intimidating, but I'm up for a challenge.

Saw a couple of uncomfortably large insects and arachnids in the environs of my domicile. Given my proximity to a number of rice-fields, I expect to see a lot more 'wildlife' as the summer progresses. Speaking of which, I ate 'insect' for the first time on Tuesday night. Myself and Joe went to a cafe-place called 'Manchester', which, despite the name, is no more Western than anywhere in the city. Since custom dictates that we eat while drinking, we pointed to one of the cheapest things on the menu, hoping for sausage or chicken dippers. The waitress returned with dried-out, papery squid (with extra tentacles), and a small basket of larvae. Nothing there to whet any Western appetite. Emboldened by alcohol, I tried a larva later on in the night. It tasted exactly as I expected... like faecal matter. I really don't know how anyone can stomach it over any extended period, and the quantity of larvae per bowl is really quite astounding. Later on, Rick (an Aussie Sangju veteran) demolished a full bowl for a bet, and nearly vomited.

Here is a pic of said dish:

30th of April: All settled in.

Two weeks on. Weather hasn’t really improved, but I’m feeling ever more comfortable in Sangju, since my mobile phone and bank account were set up. The Maekkoli and Soju festival in Gyeongju panned out in predictably raucous fashion, as I joined some familiar faces from orientation to gorge on Korea’s most notorious tipples. We started drinking at about two in the afternoon, so by about midnight, we were all the worse for wear. Apparently, I got lost while looking for a toilet, and was found half an hour later, wandering the street. Good times. Gyeongju seemed like a pleasant little city, well worth checking out more comprehensively during future visits (rather than just drinking myself into oblivion).



Again, I was slightly hung-over and run-down during the following week in school, and my condition was not helped by another epic session with some of the other foreigners in Sangju. Eager to make a good impression with my fellow ex-pats, I overdid the soju on the Wednesday night, and practically had to be carried home. My co-teachers took me out the following night, and introduced me to a hitherto unseen Korean custom. Three of us went to what looked like a normal noraebang (private karaoke room), but after a while, three attractive ladies walked in. ‘Choose one’, my co-teacher urged. Apparently, these ladies charged hourly for ‘company’ – basically, it was like renting a girlfriend for an hour, without the physical benefits. A strange experience, but at least I had someone to pour my beer.

I stayed in Sangju last weekend, going for a bike-ride with Joe to a monastery called Namjangsan, about five kilometres from the city. From there, we hiked to the top of a peak called (could be wrong about this) No-ak-san. I almost vomited during the ascent (having suffered a slight bit of ‘Asian belly’ earlier in the day), but I recovered sufficiently to enjoy the spectacular views. The peak was about 730 metres (put into perspective, Mt. Leinster is about 790), and it took about three hours, all round. I went for a meal with the Sangju foreign contingent afterwards, and thankfully kept my alcohol intake to respectable human levels (staying away from soju). I’ve had a bit of a cold this week, so I’m planning on taking it very easy this weekend.

16th of April 2010: In Sangju

So, 25 days after my last passage, I’m sitting at my desk, in my office, in the English Centre of Sangju Elementary school. It was a long, eventful, but fairly smooth journey to get here; from the tentative departure from Wexford to the stage where I’m almost totally settled into life in South Korea.

I left Wexford at about half seven on the morning of the 23rd of March, getting the Airport bus, which arrived in Dublin at about half ten. I checked in without difficulty and flew the short distance to Frankfurt, where I partook of three pints of Padeburger beer with a Korean businessman and a French-African guy from the Red Cross. On the flight to Incheon, I sat beside a young Korean student who had spent a year in UCD, and she proved an agreeable companion over a few complimentary beers. I don’t think I slept much, and my legs did start to die towards the end of the ten-hour flight.

Arrival in Incheon on Wednesday morning was slightly disorienting, given the vastness of the terminal, and I faced an anxious wait for my bags once I negotiated the way. Given that my orientation wasn’t due to begin until the following day, I had to fend for myself, and thankfully I was able to get the lovely ladies at the tourist info desk to book a hotel for me, and arrange a lift. And so it transpired that my first night in Korea was spent in a cheap hotel in Incheon.

Orientation started the following day, and the directions EPIK gave were spot on. I arrived in the Korean Open University, Seoul, at about lunchtime. I gave my details and was shown to my dorm, where I met my room-mate, Caoimhin from Belfast. He turned out to be a more-than-agreeable, well-travelled bloke, and we went for a couple of drinks with our ‘neighbours’, Matt and David from the States, before sleeping off the remainder of our jet-lag. The rest of the time in orientation brought back memories of Spain; meeting new people, having a good laugh, a few nights out, misbehaving during classes, and the general euphoria of being abroad. I made friends with a nice crowd; Amy and Geoff from Canada, Joe from the US and Jonni from Norwich. There were a few others from the States, England, and Ireland, but since the five of us were heading to Gyeongsangbuk-do province, it was natural that we latched on to each other. I felt completely re-energised by the whole thing, a world away from the unmotivated dullness I had slipped into in Limerick.

We left Seoul after a long few days. It was only on the bus to Gumi that we were told where our placements would be. Myself and Joe ended up in a place called Sangju. At first, I was a tad disappointed, as Sangju was a completely unknown quantity; also, I would be a considerable distance from Amy and Geoff, and nowhere near the sea. However, I reserved judgement; all would be revealed shortly. At Gumi, I met my co-teacher ‘Patrick’, a very pleasant Korean 30-year-old Glen Hansard fan; within minutes, it was clear that we were going to get on fine.

Patrick showed me my apartment after the 50-minute drive, and I was absolutely delighted with it; spacious, secluded, modern and close to the school and town centre. To my delight, there was an E-Mart (large department store, not unlike Dunnes) nearby, which we visited for the purchase of various moving-in essentials. Therein, I bumped into a couple from the US, who informed me that there was a ‘Wae-gook’ (foreigner) population of about twenty or thirty in Sangju. All in all, the first day allayed pretty much every possible fear I could have had about living in ‘provincial’ Korea. I was literally jumping for joy when I was left to my own devices in the apartment.

I was eased into the teaching process, merely observing for the first few days, while my medical test – and other administrative crap – was undertaken. My co-teachers brought me on the piss the first Thursday night, where I indulged in maekkoli (light, sweet rice wine) and soju (malevolent 20% brew and national institution) for the first time. I hung around the city for the first weekend, which was quite tedious, despite further exploring the small city and watching a few English-language movies on Korean TV. My first full week was handy enough, despite a few badly-prepared lessons. I would only be teaching twenty-two classes a week, and classes would only run to forty minutes each at most. ‘Co-teaching’ actually involves me teaching the class and – generally – the Korean co-teacher translating key sentences and enforcing discipline. There were a few panicky mornings, and often my first classes would turn out disastrously, but steadily improve throughout the day.

The food in the school cafeteria is usually decent enough for Korean fare; I still haven’t got used to kimchi (the national dish), red-pepper paste, nor the novelty of using chopsticks, but my skills in the latter department are slowly improving. Bulgogi (meaty, peppery stew-like concoction) became an early favourite, along with the exclusive meat dishes, like duck and bacon. Soups are decent too, quite thin, but full of whole vegetables, fish and sometimes meat. Western food is available; there is a faux-McDonald’s called 'Lotteria', and several bakeries around the place. I’m going for pizza later on, with my colleagues from English Town, a camp-like institute where I teach every Tuesday. Weather has been quite changeable, ranging from roasting hot last weekend to very cold and sometimes windy this week. The temperatures are set to rise consistently until the peaks of late-July/August.

I went to Daegu last weekend to visit Rob. After a spot of GAA, we went on a storming session, taking in all of central Daegu’s ex-pat hotspots. I was buckled by the end of the night, severely hung over on Sunday and still visibly shaken in class on Monday. I may keep the drinking to more ‘non-Irish’ levels in future, for my own good. Really not able for it anymore; and I’m not helped by the chemical level in Korea’s preferred gargles. My sessions with my North American/British buddies in Seoul seemed to be a lot less debilitating, and just as much fun, so there’s something to be learned in that. I did enjoy my GAA though, scoring five nicely-taken goals in the training match.

Just about to finish my second full week here, and overall, I’m really enjoying it. I’m going to a ‘Maekkoli Festival’ in Gyeongju for the weekend, which should be good craic, but I’ll probably buy a stereo and stay in Sangju next weekend, maybe catch up with some of the other foreigners here. Looking forward to a good, long stay in Korea!

22nd of March, 2010; Preparing to leave

So, roughly thirteen hours before I depart for Korea. It’s a strange feeling. I can’t really remember how I felt when I was leaving for Spain, but given that I was travelling with a group of people who were, by and large, more organised than me, I think I was fairly relaxed. Bulgaria was different too, with Tommy and Toby present en route. The fact that I’m going 6,000 miles away – on my own – is slightly daunting. The fact that it’s such an indefinite period is also kind of overwhelming. But, it’s a brave step, and sometimes it’s necessary to take that leap out of the comfort zone.

When I look at the last eight months since finishing in UL, it’s been a cruise… episodes of Frasier on the telly, football, sessions, loud music in the room, and the company of the lads… but it’s been utterly pointless. I’ve been in subdued form, compared to my demeanour during my former travels (particularly Spain), and during my college semesters when I was engaging in things that challenged and stimulated me. Over the last eight months, I felt like I was still ensconsed in college life; messy house, too much drinking, house parties, etc... I really felt that I had outgrown it all, especially since my first college year was seven and a half years ago. Approaching 26, and having lived a fairly stop-start life for a long time, it is certainly time for a change of scenery, and a real, fulfilling experience. It promises to be good, and I know that if I don’t enjoy it, I’ll only have myself to blame.