English Translations for Korean Washing Machine & Water Heater

This information is as much for me as for anyone else who happens to find it useful:
Translation of an Korean washing machine control panel:

Translation from Korean of the water/room heating control panel:

Hangover soup

Today Miss Hwang and Mr. Lee took me out to lunch. Yesterday I was hungover for most of the morning, so they wanted to introduce me to one of Korea's "hangover soups," or hae-jang-kuk. This one was made from blowfish, bean sprouts, peppers, onion, garlic, and some spices. It was delicious.

One of the better side dishes was also dried skin from the blowfish, seen in the lower right of the picture.

Teaching English, a month in

Before Lisa and I came,we were asked what age group we preferred to teach - elementary, middle, high school. We didn't have a preference. Since we've never taught before in a formal setting, we didn't really know what to expect. Now that I'm here, and have a few weeks of high school teaching under my belt, I have to admit: I'm kinda wishing that I had requested younger kids.

Don't get me wrong: I love my school. The teachers are awesome, the students are great, and I have a great office and classroom. But as a brand new teacher, my only qualification being my disposition to speak English with an American accent (and sure, a week of EPIK training), I'm kinda overwhelmed. I feel like I was just thrown into the deep end of the pool on my first day of swim class. During my first week here, without having ever developed a lesson plan in my life, my co-teacher asked me for an entire year's worth. 

The actual teaching isn't what has been bothering me - it's the prospect of coming up with challenging yet entertaining lessons every week for an entire year. It's easy to entertain elementary or middle school students with songs or clapping games or bathroom jokes. High schoolers are not only more advanced (at least, they SHOULD be), they are disinterested in everything having to do with school. They are so over it. I've had luck so far because I'm still a novelty in my school. But my smile and gnarly beard can only carry me so far.

Maybe this is a simple "grass-is-greener" sort of feeling. Middle school students can be hellions, so I hear. High schoolers, on the other hand, are often too tired to give me any sort of trouble. They stay at school until 10pm or later, even on the weekends, so it's not unusual for them to nod off multiple times during class. 

But I don't just want to supervise 50 minutes of nap time; I do actually want to help them improve their English. I could easily keep them entertained by showing "Pirates of the Caribbean" (a Korean fave) over three weeks, but they'd get very little out of it. 

In the end, I have to admit, almost all of the pressure put on me is my own. The students don't really care one way or the other, and the teachers have given me free rein to lead the class in any direction I see fit. I don't have much room for complaint, or even worry. I'm in a pretty damn good place. 

Well...thanks for listening.

Here are some pictures of my school and classroom:

My school and parking lot.

The courtyard. During lunch break some students play badminton here.

The office I share with my co-teacher, Soon Yung, and Miss Yoon. Mine is the desk without any books on it.

The doors to my classroom. Dream Big Make it!

My classroom. Two flat-panel HDTVs, two projectors, about 20 laptops and five desktops for student use, a document projector, DVD player, and surround sound.

Cool light patterns in the hallway on the way to the cafeteria.

The school's clay tennis court for teacher use. On Monday Mr. Gwun, the Chinese Characters teacher and one of my favorites, invited me to join some teachers for a doubles match. In spite of my miraculous improvement over the course of the game, the PE teacher and I lost in a tie-break.

Exchange Rate - The won is winning

The won has been fast gaining ground on the dollar lately, which is good news for English teachers in Korea trying to send money home or pay off student debt. Since reaching a recent peak of 1583 won/dollar at the beginning of March, it has been falling faster than maize bags dropped from an aid plane.

The won's gain has been only aided by the dollar's loss. Calls by Russia and China, and now the UN, for a global currency to replace the dollar as the world standard, have brought the future value of the dollar into question. US Treasury Sec Geithner's comment about the US being "open" to the idea surely didn't help matters. 

As the US stimulus package starts to pump new money into the economy things should only get better for the won, and other currencies, against the dollar.

Korea on Google Maps!

Just Found on Google Maps: South Korea! 

Apparently, in the last year or so, Google Maps add SK to its road maps and driving directions! (Next step: get a car.)

Check out our neighborhood: 

View Larger Map

Bogyung Temple

On Saturday the weather was nice and we decided on a whim to head up the coast to Bogyung/Bogyeong/Bokyung temple. (Side note: translating Korean into English is annoying me. Every dictionary transliterates things differently, which makes it tough to figure out the pronunciation of anything. A new-found pet peeve of mine. I prefer just writing Korean words in Korean now.)

Anyway, the temple was great, though we went on an adventurous detour in order to get there. After taking a taxi to a recommended bus station, which informed us that they didn't sell tickets to Bogyung, we ambled down the street hoping for a sign. 20 minutes and several go-go girls later (I'll save that for another post) we found the sign we were looking for - Bus #500, which was headed in Bogyung's general direction. We hopped on and shoved a wad of cash into the money slot - twice as much as required, it turns out. The Korean man in the front seat on the bus informed us of this fact in perfect English. Even more luckily, the man with the perfect English was heading to Bogyung temple as well, camera in hand. As it turns out, he had lived in LA for 18 years before moving back to Korea for the last 14. He now lives on Ulleung-do, a small and remote island far off the East coast, where he is working on his second novel (in Korean, I was admittedly disappointed to learn). He proved invaluable to our excursion. Not only did he help us and another couple to arrange a taxi to Bogyung from the bus transfer point when we discovered that the connecting bus wouldn't arrive for another hour, he also informed us that the last bus leaving Bogyung for Pohang would depart at 5:45 pm and waited, later that evening, to make sure that it didn't take off without us.

Bogyung-sa was a very beautiful and tranquil place, vibrant and alive at the same time. Some painters were renovating the pagodas on the temple grounds, restoring the faded colors to their original brilliant luster, and the rainbows of lanterns were strung up along the awnings of the temple buildings gave the place a festive feel.

The pebbles and coarse stone that covered the temple grounds crunched underfoot as we strolled between the buildings. They were definitely an effective tool for use in increasing an awareness of the present. I was acutely aware of the peaceful silence that was broken with every grinding step. A large golden buddha sat in the main temple hall. A man entered as I stood by the door, took off his hat, and knelt, bowed, and stood several times. I wandered away before he was finished prostrating before the buddha. Idol worship - whether bowing before a golden statue of a buddha or praying to an image of christ on a cross - never really did much for me. In fact, as drawn as I am to buddhist beliefs, the pomp and circumstance of this religion really get in the way of my complete embrace. Rituals and traditions whose actual, metaphysical purpose is subsumed under an icon of the belief. It is the existence of these now meaningless rites that define religion for me now, and turn me off of it.

Ironically, it was the freedom from this debasement that first turned me on to buddhism (with a small B). At the 10-day Vipassana retreat I attended in Kenya, the message was immaterial, non-denominational, universal and simultaneously intensely personal. It was a message of the interconnectedness of the world, of the impermanence of everything, of compassion and understanding. All of the retreat staff were 100% volunteer, including the instructor, who was flown in from India. The retreat itself was run by donation only - you were asked to contribute based on its worth to you, and completely anonymously. Only those who had experienced at least a 10-day retreat are allowed to donate to the worldwide Vipassana organization. The spread of the meditation technique - which is all it is; it does not profess itself as a 'religion' or anything else - is not dependent on guilt or the threat of suffering. It is about experiencing - not just reading or praying or thinking about - the truth directly, and the truth, undoubtedly and inevitably, setting you free.

Aside from the man bowing to a golden statue, and the donation table at which you could pay for a prayer to be attached to one of the temple lanterns, I loved everything about the place.

We marveled at the 1,000-year old 15-foot tall stone pagoda behind the main temple building and drank the crystal clear water from a communal stone basin.

Afterward we walked along a hiking trail running between the temple and a rocky creek. Dozens of Koreans were out in full backpacking gear, trekking poles and all, even though the trail was often comprised of wooden steps and wheelchair ramps. The hike was steep in parts, though, and after one particularly tough incline we found a coffee vending machine at the crest of the hill, a reward for the effort, I suppose. I treated myself to a cup of Americano.


We hiked til we reached the last waterfall within an hour's hike. The trail forked immediately before the waterfall, and the path to the left continued for several more miles to the peak of a distant hill. The path on the right led to a bridge. The bridge, an egregiously large, orange suspension bridge that looked as if it were built to support a tank load, led to Yeonsan Waterfall.

The waterfall was, unfortunatly, so unimpressive that I forgot even to take a picture of it, and instead took this picture of one of the Chinese characters carved into the rock wall, which I found infinitely more interesting.

On the hike back, we ambled through the small tourist village at the temple foothills. We passed by the shops selling small buddhist treasures, homemade tofu, and handmade clay pots, finally making a purchase that should in no way be considered influenced by our visit to the temple, and which, in hindsight, might never be called a good investment.

But it will make a great conversation piece.

Guide to Kenya's National Parks

Matador Travel, an online travel blog, published an article I wrote about Kenya's 6 best national parks!  You can read it here. If it weren't for the word limit I would have kept going - each park has its own draws, and it's tough to say one is better than the other. But I did, because I could.

Cribs

Our new Korean apartment:

As small as it may be, I don't think we'd choose to have it any other way. Having a bigger apartment would just require having more stuff to fill the space. With less room we're forced to evaluate the necessity of our possessions and keep only what we truly value. 

So far, anyway, the space hasn't been an issue. We get a lot of sunlight and "fresh" air, which is as much as we could ask for. In the end, though, we don't plan on spending a lot of time in the apartment - too many adventures await.

Winter's envy

In Korea they believe that Winter envies the coming warmth of Spring, and that its jealousy brings a bout of fierce cold in the middle of a warm spell. This bout is called 쏯(flower) 샘(jealous)추위(cold) (kot-sem-chu-wi). It lasts for two to three days and makes the spring blooms wither slightly.

A couple of nights ago a cold, fierce wind whipped through Pohang. Lisa and I were blown home from dinner - it may have been the strongest wind I've ever felt, and it lasted most of the night. We could hear canvas flapping and doors banging outside on the street. Last night, perhaps in consequence, I had a dream about a tornado. Just in case you were wondering.

Welcome to I-dong High School!

On Wednesday the school threw a dinner party for the new teachers at I-dong high school, myself included. (I was informed about the party Wednesday afternoon; luckily my schedule is pretty open these days.) Just about all 60+ of the teachers came, but I can only assume that a few stayed behind to monitor the students, who stay at school studying until 10pm or later.

The school set up a banner honoring the new teachers at the restaurant, which was really nice. It was funny to see everything in Korean except "Jonny."


We ate at a local traditional place where you grill your own meats over a charcoal fire, dip them in sesame oil and fermented soybean paste (delicious) and wrap it in a lettuce leaf. We took over the place for the celebration, and spent several hours grilling and eating meat and lettuce wraps, drinking soju, and laughing.

No one stayed in their seats for very long; everyone was wandering around taking shots with everyone else. Koreans have a custom of offering shots to, well...anyone, really, but especially to their elders and superiors. Everyone has their own shot glass for soju, and it is a show of respect to offer your own glass to your principal, for example, and to pour him a shot in it. He will drink it and offer another shot to you in the same glass. Sharing glasses is a sign of respect and friendship (communicable diseases be damned!), and I was happy to indulge.

I took my shot glass over to the principal, who smiled broadly and motioned for me to pour him a quarter shot. As the head of the school, and everyone's superior, he would be drinking a lot that night. After taking a drink from him, I offered my glass to the vice principal, who promptly put it down on the table and didn't touch it again for another 15 minutes. He wanted to talk instead - he was an English teacher himself many years ago, and although his language skills have rusted plenty since, he makes up for it with his youthful energy and his smile.

My participation in the tradition went over really well, and soon everyone was tipsy. Even the teachers who don't speak English were emboldened to sit next to me and pour me drinks and offer to take me fishing over the summer. The room was full of bonhomie, enhanced, of course, with soju and beer, and everyone had a great time.
Eventually word trickled down to me that we were carrying the party over to a noraebang (karaoke room), a popular post-dinner pasttime among Korean business associates and preteens alike. About half of the teachers showed up and we took over two rooms with singing and dancing and drinking in each. Some fruit and popcorn was set out on a table in the back of the room, and people floated constantly between rooms and to smoke cigarettes in the foyer.

No one seemed shy or complained about others' singing (even after I butchered 'Bohemian Rhapsody'!), and everyone got their turn - including my principal, who rocked the house with a conga line (see video).

I sang three songs and left before 10pm. It felt like 3 in the morning. I was told the next morning that the male teachers went out for another round of drinks (this was a Wednesday, remember), and as far as I know all of them showed up at school the next day, only slightly sluggish.

Jukdo Market

As places go, Jukdo market is one of Pohang's most colorful. Its largest market, Jukdo is a popular destination for Koreans in search of some of the country's freshest seafood. It's all freshly caught - after 6pm each day the fishmongers start discounting their stock. But they have much more than fish to offer. Clothes, kimchi, side dishes, linens, plants: you name it, you can probably get it here. It's a colorful place, where vendors gut their catch under rainbow umbrellas and old women jostle for dried shrimp in crowded alleys as motorbikes zip by.



Sitting catycorner to each other, two women compete for business selling whale and dolphin meat. But competition isn't fierce; they are the only two vendors of their goods in Pohang. One woman is slicing a large hunk of black meat encased in a strip of lard as thick as the meat itself. She offers us a slice - whale, we're told - and we eat it with some salt. It has a unique, very rich flavor, like dark coffee or chocolate.

Afterwards she changes her tune - it's dolphin. I feel uneasy knowing what I ate, but I can't decide why. Dolphins are intelligent, supposedly compassionate, and playful. If they were smaller or drier they'd make great pets. They're innocent - but so are whales, and every other animal we eat, for that matter. For some reason it seems more plausible to me that a dolphin could possess a soul, I suppose. They're the most human of sea creatures. Maybe it's a classic case of anthropomorphic attachment. It's irrational and doesn't make sense. Still, I feel uneasy.

My coteacher later tells me that whaling is illegal in Korea - they're only allowed to sell whale or dolphin if it is caught in their nets inadvertently and is already dead, or if they import it. I can only speculate as to the laxity of enforcement.

Unfortunately, at times Jukdo market can be so colorful that it hurts to look. More uneasiness, this time not out of an affinity for anthropomorphism but general sense of inhumanity.



Afterwards, while I try to calm my mind and my suddenly-queasy stomach, my coteacher brings me a large bag of boiled, dried octopus chips. I thank her politely and put them in my bag.

A Rush of hate to the head

On Sunday The Huffington Post published a great article by Deepak Chopra, talking about how Rush Limbaugh, through a thin veil of so-called 'conservatism', has become a god unto himself and his listeners, without moral or ethical ground to stand on. He is angry, and that makes him right. As Chopra says,

Anything Limbaugh judges against is condemned, not by scripture, but simply by him being pissed off. Whatever Limbaugh hates -- however petty, personal, and arbitrary his animus -- is ipso facto wrong...To be outraged is to be morally superior.

Maybe some of you stopped reading at "Huffington" and already condemned this article or this post as liberally biased. But that's only because people falsely believe Rush to be a symbol of conservatism or the Republican party. These he most certainly is not. The only thing he can honestly claim to be a true representative of is hate.

There is no way to reach a consensus with the Rush Limbaughs of either party - everything is black or white, right and wrong, their way or the highway. There is no middle ground to be reached. It's easy to be an armchair activist (or a radio show revolutionary) because they're not involved in an endgame. Rush can shout and rant all he wants because his purpose in life is to shout and rant, and nothing more. There is no space at his table for anyone except those that agree with him.

But Chopra ain't a hater, and he won't judge:

We secretly love rascals, bank robbers, tricksters, swindlers, hell raisers, and outlaws. And when we feel so inclined, we laugh at them. Rush Limbaugh may represent a toxic form of entertainment -- and the bile he spews bears no resemblance to true morality -- but the fact that America makes room for him is something to be proud of.

The problem, in reality, is not that Rush Limbaugh exists, as I use to think. I enjoy listening to Rush on occasion for the same reasons Chopra talks about. He is so intolerant that it's almost - almost - funny sometimes. Rush is an entertainer, and he's good at what he does. The real problem is that he, and many who cower to him, can no longer tell the difference between fiction and reality.

Korean justice for the transgendered?

The Korea Beat posted an article today about a recent Busan court decision in which a 29-year old man was found guilty of raping a "male-to-female transgendered person." The reason that this is news is not just because a rape occurred, but because the decision overturns a 1996 Supreme Court decision refusing to recognize the rape of a transgendered person as a crime. (South Korean law does not, unfortunately, recognize men as rape victims, though last August a parliamentary measure was introduced to extend rape protection to men and transsexuals. Not sure what happened to that bill.)

What makes this even MORE interesting is the fact that the prosecution is appealing the case to the Supreme Court. (The defense has also filed their own appeal.) Although the prosecutors are actually appealing the acquittal of the defendant on certain charges, like aggravated burglary, they filed the appeal in the hopes that the Supreme Court will hear the case and uphold the rape conviction, thus overturning the 1996 decision.

A member of the Busan District Public Prosecutor’s Office (부산지검) said, “we are appealing because, as our society’s views of the transgendered have undergone significant changes and inasmuch as this is a rare case, we need a final judgment from the Supreme Court.

This article made Lisa wonder if the prosecution's appeal was made with the support of the rape victim, or if that even matters in the Korean legal system.

Making an impression

In the cafeteria last week Miss Hwang (황숭미) told me about Joe, the previous Native English Teacher that Idong High School had employed. He was in his fifties, introverted, something of a recluse. He never ate lunch with the other teachers, only an apple or a sandwich at his desk, and he rarely went out for group teacher dinners (a major points-scoring event in Korea, but more importantly a good time just to get to know people). The vice principal - arguably the most important person in the school - disliked him because Joe never bowed to him in the hallway nor even said hello. Joe wanted to come back to teach another year, but the VP wouldn't allow it.

I asked Miss Hwang what I could do to ensure a good relationship with the school veep. "Just smile at him," she said. "And stop by his office once in a while to greet him." So a couple of days ago, on the way out of the school building, I stopped by the teacher's office on the first floor. The VP greeted me. "What do you need?" "Oh, I was just stopping by to say goodbye. Have a good night!" He and the other teachers at his desk smiled and said goodbye. The next morning Soon Yung, my co-teacher (and the other most important person, for me, anyway, in the school), said she heard that I stopped by his office. "They were VERY happy."

A little bit goes a long way.

Two rooms with a vista!

On Saturday we moved out of our room and into a one-bedroom apartment (read: one bedroom and one living room) in the building next door. It was a recent and rapid development that came about thanks to our resourceful and wealthy landlord who owns several buildings in the area. He came to our place unannounced on Wednesday to show us the place, which we both took to immediately, even though it's not much bigger, mainly because of the fact that it has more than one door (actual door count: 6). It's also on the fourth floor so it's much more secure (you're welcome Mom!) and has lots of windows with a nice view over Pohang. We'll post some pics soon.

On moving day our landlord hired (we paid) a couple of strongmen to hoist all of our stuff up four flights to our new place, which was nice for Lisa and me. We strolled up to the apartment and started unpacking and arranging stuff. Later our landlord came by with a friend of his to make sure everything was OK. Neither of them spoke more than halting English, so a lot of hand gestures and awkward silences followed. At some point, though, and I forget the exact dialogue that transpired here, I said something to the landlord's friend that may have warranted a "thank you."

"Muchas gracias." He said.
"Oh, hablas espanol?" I asked jokingly.
"Si."

We had a nice, very surreal conversation in Spanish - albeit often halting and broken on both sides - about his career as a fishing boat captain that ferried octopus between South America (Argentina, Peru) and Korea. He spent 16 years aboard a ship, 10 years as a captain (captain at 29 years old!), and now builds apartment buildings for a living. He was a really nice guy, and equally as surprised as I to meet another Spanish speaker in Korea.

First week at work

We were told that our first week would be an "observation week," during which we would get to know some of the teachers and sit in on their classes to see what we were in for. They didn't tell us that the teachers might be embarrassed of their English and would refuse to let us in their classrooms, therefore relegating us to a week's worth of Facebook and web surfing (with a little bit of lesson planning thrown in).

Luckily, the two younger English teachers at my school have been more eager to interact with me, less timid about making mistakes, or perhaps just have less face to lose, and they have let me participate in a couple of their classrooms. My first class was Miss Hwang's third grade class. (In Korea, grading numbers start over at the beginning of each new school era, so a high school freshman - a ninth grader in the US - is a first grader, and a senior is in third grade.)

I was a little bit surprised to find out that the class was taught almost entirely in Korean, with just a few choice words or phrases translated into English. One of the big problems in Korean schools is the students' lack of conversation ability. At the same time they will ace reading or written tests. This class went pretty far in explaining why. Even though my high school Spanish classes were largely in English, by my senior year Senor Opazo limited his English to word definitions if needed.

Miss Hwang's class smelled like girls, well, because all of her students were girls. They all carried girlie stuff like pink pencil trays and cartoon-printed blankets and bottles of lotion. As soon as I walked through the door a loud chorus arose. "Woahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" They were all smiles, especially when I stood up periodically throughout the class to read a passage from the book or answer one of Miss Hwang's unexpected, off-the-cuff questions. "What is the difference between a proverb and a maxim?" Jesus, I don't know. "Ummm... a proverb often has a deeper meaning than a maxim... or sometimes a religious connotation." Miss Hwang, like virtually all of the English teachers at I-dong, considers me an expert in the language, by simple virtue of the fact that I grew up speaking it. I am quick to admit that Americans, and probably native speakers in general, are often some of the worst authorities on spelling and grammar you can find. The teachers here have already, on multiple occasions, taught me a thing or two about my own language. And yet, while I do make my share of mistakes, I like to think that I'm more qualified than most to be teaching here. At the very least I know the difference between 'your' and 'you're'.

After reading a sentence about driving dangerously, Miss Hwang asked me when I started driving. The girls were shocked to learn that kids in the US can drive at 15. In Korea they can't get behind the wheel until they're 20. Though that doesn't seem to make the roads any safer or the drivers any more sane.

In another period, Miss Hong started off her first grade homeroom class in English. After many long silences and a sea of blank staring faces, the class ended in Korean. And while I admired her flexibility and ability to adapt to the level of her students, it only made me fully realize my inability to employ such methods when faced with the same situation. If my students don't understand my accent or the vocabulary I use, the only option I have is to speak more clearly, more slowly, and using fewer words. It isn't as easy as it sounds - it takes practice to simplify and slow down your speech in a way that actually makes sense.

Miss Hong also carried a black tape-wrapped stick the length of her forearm, which she used to up her menacing appearance. It seemed sort of comical to me. She is a really jovial woman, always smiling and laughing and clapping innocently, so it was hard for me to take her seriously. Furthermore, it was yet another teaching method I wouldn't be able to copy. While corporal punishment is allowed, and sometimes employed for the most headstrong of students, it's not something I plan on using. I'll have to figure out alternative ways of dealing with troublesome students.

OFF TO A...slow...start

The Korean school year officially opened on Monday, March 2nd, so I dusted off the suit and tie (has it really been THAT long?) and got all doll'd up for my first day. I was totally prepped for a full day of meeting teachers, being introduced to the students at the assembly, observing some classes... and I was late.

Soon Yung, my co-teacher, called me at 8:45. "Where are you?" I was across the street from school, literally. At the crosswalk. (School starts, for me, at 9am.) "We're having a teacher's meeting now. Please hurry up." So I upped my pace. I got inside the front door and took off my shoes by the foot lockers, looking for an empty spot. They all had Korean characters on them, so I assumed they were assigned to people, but I didn't see my name and I was in a hurry. I threw my shoes into an open locker and put on my cheap soccer sandals. I hiked up the stairs to the English lab, where every teacher in the school was gathered behind the glass doors. The vice principal was speaking, and a teacher pushed open the doors for me. I tiptoed inside, bowed towards the principal at the front of the room, and made eye contact with Soon Yung. "Go inside our office," she whispered for no reason. Everyone was watching and listening. I went inside our office, which adjoins the lab, and stood there, out of sight. Five minutes later the VP's stream of Korean stopped. "Jonathan..." I heard Soon Yung whisper from the lab. I walked out, and stood next to the VP as he introduced me to the group. "Introduce yourself," he said after he was done, so I repeated my name, told them I was from Virginia, and that I was honored to be there with all of them. When I was done, Soon Yung motioned back towards the office. I had apparently done my duty.

After the teacher's meeting broke up, Soon Yung came in to take me to the assembly, where all of the students were gathered for their opening ceremonies. I stood with the rest of the teachers around the edges of the room, and one of the younger English teachers (I first thought she was fresh out from the university. I later found out she is 31) stood beside me. She had a lot of questions for me, she said, and she pulled out a worksheet with scribbles all over it. "What does it mean to say 'one-ish'?" "Can I say twelve-ish? How do I spell that?" She asked me more questions while the VP spoke, then the principal. "He talks a lot," she said. Then time for introductions. Soon Yung told me to follow the rest of the new teachers onto the stage. "The VP will probably want to introduce you." So I followed, and a murmur rose as I walked up on stage. Kids craned their necks to see me. The VP went down the list of about 15 new teachers, with each garnering some applause. Some were apparently very popular - from what I could tell it was based entirely on their good looks, since they were supposedly new to the school and the students. When the VP got to the end of the list he looked around him, and someone nudged him and pointed at me. He had forgotten my introduction. My name wasn't on his list. So he called out my name, and I bowed, and the kids cheered heartily. Exit stage left.

By 10:30am all of the excitement was over, and I was back at my desk in the office, sipping instant coffee. The IT guy hooked up my laptop and I fiddled around with the language settings until I figured out it was the Korean version of Windows and I couldn't change it to English. I had lunch in the cafeteria with Soon Yung and a handful of other teachers, before the students arrived. Sweet and sour pork, lotus flower root, rice, beef broth soup. Then back in the office for the rest of the day. Facebook is my friend.

Welcome to Pohang?

I was checking out Pohang City Council's website for a map of the area today and stumbled across a seemingly innocuous "Traveler's Story" on the site (see below). If the City Council members don't understand English well enough to realize that this wasn't, in fact, an actual welcome letter, I think we've got our work cut out for us with the high school population.

Welcome to Pohang (I guess)

Today I took a cab that someone else had called for. The light on the roof was on, so I assumed it was available. The driver spoke only Korean (naturally) and kept asking me things, but as a non-Korean speaking American, I couldn't understand. He kept talking to the dispatcher on the radio, but I didn't know what they were saying. I can only assume he was asking if I had called for the cab, but I really had no idea. I was just trying to get to church and saw a cab that had it's vacancy light on. It stopped and I got in. The cab driver became increasingly belligerent, yelling at me and calling me a "liar" in English. I guess he thought that I understood him and was saying that I had called for the cab, which I hadn't and didn't claim to. He became more irate and threw obscenities in English at me. He said "fuck you" and called me a "son of a bitch". I eventually left the cab as soon as possible and paid him the full fare, regrettably. Unfortunately, I didn't get the guy's name or license number as I was a little sting by the brusqueness this ambassador of ill will. I wish I could've reported him.

Now I understand there is some degree of tension between Americans and Koreans, but there is no justification for cab drivers to call me a "liar" when I had no lies to tell and certainly no reason to trick cab drivers. There is also no reason for a Korean, cab driver or not, to call me a "son of a bitch". Who is he to refer to my mother as a "bitch"? Granted, he must feel some resentment for having to drive a cab for a living in his middle years, but it makes for poor hospitality to verbally injure visiting professors (or any foreigners, for that matter) when they have no ability to understand the language or the unfortunate situations they find themselves in. While nothing says "Welcome to Korea" like calling an English professor as a "son of a bitch" and a "liar", it does precious little to endear the city to visitors. At least I will have a good story to tell when I get home, which can't come soon enough, in all honesty.

My advice to foreign visitors is to avoid using taxis at all costs. You are subjecting yourself to a torrent of obscene epithets and will likely be overcharged for your ride, all on account of being non-Korean. Your best bet is to take the bus. The routes are listed on this website. Better still, avoid Pohang altogether. There are few attractions worth seeing here and, as I have often experienced, Pohang is one the least foreigner-friendly cities in Korea.

Pohang

On Friday Lisa and I moved to Pohang, on South Korea's SE coast.




















We left the training site that morning with the rest of the Gyeongbuk EPIK group, and headed to Gumi (Kumi), where we had an amazing seafood/sushi/sashimi buffet lunch, all paid for by our POE (Provincial Office of Education). It must have cost them over a grand for all of us.

We met up with our co-teachers at a high school in Gumi. They were all waiting for us with name placards, milling around in the parking lot nervously. It was really cute. Lisa's and my co-teachers were standing right beside each other, and we bowed and shook hands and introduced ourselves. We got our luggage off of the truck and into their cars, and after a short meeting in the school gym, we took off for Pohang.

We drove with Soon Yung, my co-teacher, who speaks great English and has been teaching for 20+ years. I heard enough stories about how your co-teacher can make or break your experience in Korea to know that I lucked out. Two of Lisa's co-teachers came to meet her, and both were really cool. They have all been really helpful so far.

On the ride we talked about our schools, and Pohang, and our apartment, which Soon Yung assured us was "a large one-bedroom." Well...it's known as "Dynamic Korea" for a reason. Turns out "one bedroom" means ONE ROOM. Lisa and I were kind of shocked when we walked into see this:
(Bathroom on the right, kitchen/laundry room on the left. It would have been a minute enough kitchen on its own, but somehow they found room to throw a washing machine in there!)

...and this:
















...and that is it! You've officially had the grand tour.

Soon Yung asked us if it was OK. I thanked her for all of her hard work in locating a suitable apartment and followed that up with "um...not really." This place would be AWESOME for just one person but with two of us it a bit too much (or too little) to handle for a year. She is working on finding us a bigger place now, but since they have apparently paid the first month's rent, we're going to be here for a little while anyway. It's been pretty tough already, with us splitting the small wardrobe and watching cockroaches scurry around our piles of stuff scattered around the floor. To further complicate matters, some guys showed up yesterday with a giant fridge. Since there is clearly no room for anything in the kitchen, they put it in a corner in our bedroom/living/dining room.

Friday night we went out to dinner with Soon Yung, another teacher from my school, and my principal and vice principal. I was a bit nervous, having been prepped on the importance of my first meeting with my kyojang son sang nim (principal), who always demands the highest respect, but it all went really well and we had a great time. Luckily I remembered how to toast him, and everyone got a kick out of that. It also helped to have Lisa on my arm - everyone kept saying how beautiful she was, which really took the pressure off of me to do anything impressive.

It was a great meal, served in traditional Korean style, which generally means we had enough food to feed three people for each one at the table. Course after course of raw fish, spicy peppers and sauces, kimchi, rice, soju... Lisa and I were really wondering if they would ever stop bringing us food.

That's Soon Yung on the right.

















It's really hard to smile after an hour and a half of sitting cross-legged, I'll tell you what.

On Saturday morning I met with Soon Yung at my school, Idong High School, which is about two minutes' walk from our front door. She wanted to show me the transportation options for Lisa, whose schools (she'll be splitting her time between two) are not nearly as conveniently located as mine. Although Dongji High School (her M-W, an all boys school) is only about a mile away as the crow flies, it's on the other side of a really really steep hill. She can transfer between buses (an hour), take a bus and walk (at least an hour), ride a bike (40 minutes uphill), take a taxi (15 minutes, but the school won't pay for her to do this each way every day), carpool with other teachers (which may require her to get to school an hour and a half earlier than necessary), or hike 45 minutes over the mountain. None of them are very appealing options, and we haven't even really looked into her options to Yusung, her other, all girls high school, which is even farther away. It's been a source of stress for us so far, but Lisa's handling it really well, going with the flow as much as possible.

We asked our co-teachers about finding housing closer to either of her schools but they said it is very difficult to find, and the houses are very old. I have a feeling that they believe our standards to be too high, though, so we're still working on it.

Saturday afternoon someone came over to fix the internet connection, and he plugged and unplugged and unscrewed different things until he came to the conclusion, around 1:30pm, that he didn't have the right tools to fix it, so he had to run out. He told us he'd be back at 2pm. We were starving by this point, so we ran out to find a quick bite to eat in order to return before he did. There are several restaurants on our block, so we picked one at random. Turns out the place served the same multi-course-style meal we had eaten at the night before - not fast food by any stretch. I got up twice during the meal to run home and check on the internet guy, but luckily he was late and didn't come back until after we were through with our long, leisurely lunch.