First, lets get the inevitable niggles out of the way. My apartment is smaller, pokier and in slightly worse repair than my Sangju domicile; my toilet constantly refuses to deal with the concentrated deposits that are usually forthcoming from my ignoble behind, and for some reason my immediate neighbour insists on cluttering around, doing odd household chores at four in the morning. This doesn't help me in clocking up the requisite hours of sleep for my daunting 6:45 rise. This ungodly waking hour is forced upon me by a 40-45 minute commute to my Boy's Middle School in Jwacheon-dong, a hilly, inner-city district. My classes are generally fine, apart from the lethargic third graders, whose collective apathy towards a seemingly-superfluous English class is understandable, if somewhat frustrating. Oh, and I got my first mosquito bite last night, which formed a large, white lump on my arm in roughly the shape of Africa.
However, those trifling inconveniences pale in comparison to the positives. It's great to be back, even if I'm comfortable in relative familiarity, rather than doe-eyed with Eastern novelty. The dynamic is a little different. I'm not, as I may have thought in 2010, out here on a 'Super Awesome Finding-Myself Oriental Adventure!' I'm here, simply, because I like it here. I'm comfortable, working in a job I find generally tolerable and occasionally quite fun, with a relatively stress-free schedule, and a sweet lifestyle. My down-time at the weekends is going to be very enjoyable. Whether I want to do 10km runs by the Gwangan river, sip on pale ales on a sun-soaked rooftop in PNU, lounge on the beach near my flat in Gwangalli, watch rugby in my local New Zealand-themed bar or go hiking up a bunch of big, cherry-tree-covered hills on the city outskirts, it's all there for me to do. Added to that, a few of my Sangju buddies are now based in the city, adding to the celebratory atmosphere of the fresh start. The weather is getting good too, reaching the twenties today.
The bustle and noise of Busan (population of 3.5 million) is a huge contrast from the peaceful quaintness of Sangju, where I could just hop on the bike, or stick on a pair of hiking boots, and be out in the midst of rice paddies, Buddhist temples and winding forest trails within minutes. Away from the beaches, Busan is a pulsing, uncompromising, cluttered concrete jungle, with few aesthetic frills. Given that Limerick was the biggest city I had lived in before this, it's a small shock to the system. But with metropolitan chaos comes a greater range of amenities and stimulus. It is nice to have the option of going for a good burger/kebab and a pint of cider/ale when the urge arises. It is also nice to meet Korean ladies with passable conversational English, and to have a choice of good people to hang around with - in a town like Sangju or Jeomchon, things can go downhill very quickly if the new EPIK crop happens to be a bunch of douchebags, as you're pretty much stuck with each other, regardless of uncommon interests or personality clashes, unless you want to be a shut-in - or spunk away all your money in bigger cities every weekend. |
| Isotonic drinks are for pussies. |
In school, the kids are spirited and boisterous, but generally in a positive way. They are kept in check by the teachers, so behavioural issues haven't been any source of real stress. I usually get a moment of guilty juvenile mirth in class from listening to the dark, piss-taking humour of the adolescent boys - something which seems to transcend all borders. Today, when I asked where two absentees were, a kid told me: 'Teacher, they have knife-uh fight. Now in the sky.' My supplementary class, themed 'surviving a zombie attack' brought out a great deal of sick-minded creativity, of which I was quite proud. I also confess that it's hard not to laugh when I hear the kids trying to curse at each other in English, i.e. 'shut-uh puck up'. It's all a good laugh.
