The view from afar

I’m spending my first election year abroad, and while I’m physically outside the United States, I can’t escape the political zeitgeist even in east Asia. Watching the economic and political situations unfold from across the Pacific isn’t as difficult as one would think — especially with the reach of the Internet. I still read the same news sources as I did while in the States, such as the (admittedly liberal) Huffington Post and BBC. I’m also following the debates by downloading them or watching them on YouTube.

The U.S. political and economic situation, despite my being 13 time zones away from home, is of great interest to me, mainly financially. The effect of the Wall Street crisis has been felt all over the world; the nation of Iceland is facing bankruptcy and, more importantly to me, the Korean economy, tied tightly to that of the U.S., is flailing as well. The current exchange rate is more than 1,400 KRW to the U.S. dollar; when I arrived in Korea, I could only get 1,040 KRW for my dollar. In that time, my paycheck has lost about 25% of its value, and there doesn’t seem to be any relief in sight.

Since I’m living in Korea, earning and paying won, I’ll have to make only a few lifestyle adjustments. I’m not, however, going to be able to save nearly as much money as I had hoped before I came here. I’m in a real quagmire: do I cut my losses and invest as many dollars as possible, or do I send home minimal amounts to pay bills and hope for a recovery?

All that glimmers

It’s Friday, and I just got paid (two days ago), which officially makes me a millionaire. Absolutely no joke, I’ve never seen that many digits on a bank statement — granted it’s in Korean won, which unfortunately seems to be the only thing falling faster than the American dollar. This would’ve been sweet if I had any U.S. cash left to exchange, but now I’m looking to send money home to cover some bills.

I still have some money at home that I can use for the time being until the won decides to sort itself out. Other than that, things are good. Like I said, it’s Friday, and I’m staring out the window at sunny skies after watching three episodes of Entourage while anticipating the weekend. It’s so much nicer to be working in a place with windows. Even on the gloomiest of days, it’s nice to be able to see something other than colorless walls. I’ve been meaning to take a picture of the view, while not too bad isn’t definitely postcard material.

Regarding classes, I can feel the teachers loosening the reins a little bit. The co-teachers are asking more for my input about the lesson plans instead of pointing at different sections of the book to present. It’s nice that in two weeks, they’ve started to trust me a little more. I’m definitely no teaching expert, but I know teaching straight from the book doesn’t help these kids think in English, which is the goal if we want them to speak it.

Those worries are for another day. Now it’s Friday afternoon, and almost time to leave for the weekend. I’m probably checking out a rock climbing gym tonight then having a night on the town. The good times in Seoul continue.

Teaching troubles

I’m in my third week of teaching now, and it has been every bit of an adventure as I had imagined it. The kids are doing the things kids do (especially the swooning fifth-grade girls), but they’re nowhere near unmanageable. All in all, it’s still, not unexpectedly, a learning experience.

The biggest challenge in this job is the fact that I’m co-teaching. The rapport between each of my three co-teachers and me still isn’t quite there. We’ll accidentally cut each other off thinking it’s time to transition, and other times, we won’t even have a transition. This lack of chemistry affects how I present my part of class, and I’m sure the Korean co-teachers are adjusting, too.

The hardest part of finding this balance is the lack of hierarchy. I’m obviously the better English speaker, but they’re the more experienced teachers. These kids have been with these teachers since March (because their school year starts in the spring), and I’m still a fresh face to them. Because of my lack of authority and experience, it’s hard to tell co-teachers certain things (i.e. the curriculum) don’t really work. Sometimes I get bored teaching in my own classes because we work from the CD so much, but I’m not confident in my own alternatives — if I have any.

With each week, though, I hope to be able to invoke more activities (especially with my fifth-grade class where I hold the reins) separate from the curriculum and turn it into a more conversation-centered class. Singing “I like apples” over and over can only go so far.

It’s not what you know but who you know

After arriving in Korea with an E-2 visa (one designated specially for English teachers), it’s necessary to get an Alien Registration Card (ARC). The ARC is more or less my ID as a temporary resident in Korea and is necessary for things such as opening a bank account (which I actually did without an ARC thanks to the Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education’s sponsoring us at orientation) and acquiring a cell phone (which I actually did without an ARC thanks to the shadiness of Itaewon).

The process is somewhat tedious, but I finally got my ARC this week with the help of my Korean co-teachers. Here are the steps to apply for a Korean alien registration card:

1. Get two passport-sized photos of yourself.
2. Get a medical check at one of the public hospitals in Seoul. You’ll need one of your photos for this.
3. Pick up medical check a few days later.
4. Make an appointment at the Seoul Immigration Office or show up and wait forever (I’ve heard up to two hours) in line.
5. Show up and turn in your ARC application with 10,000 KRW, your medical check, and your passport.
6. Wait 1-2 weeks for your ARC.

Or you could have a co-teacher who knows someone who works in immigration in Incheon who makes a phone call to someone who works in immigration in Seoul and can shorten the whole process at the Seoul Immigration Office to a painless 20-minute wait and have you walk out the same day with your ARC in hand.

I went with the latter of the choices. It was fantastic. Also, in other fantastic news, I learned my school doesn’t require me to be at school during winter break when I’m not teaching the winter camp. The holidays lasts from December 24 to February 2 and then from February 14 to March 2. After taking out two weeks for the camp, I have about three weeks in January and two weeks in February to do whatever the hell I want — and still get paid for it.

I’m thinking a three-week backpacking excursion through southeast Asia in January and maybe a jaunt through the States in February, but as we all know, that could very suddenly change. Stay tuned.

Who is she? Who is he?

My elementary school. It's only four years old.

I just finished the first day of my second week of teaching (yes, on a Wednesday thanks to Chusok ), so that means there was a first week of teaching that happened, well, last week. Convoluted syntax aside, it was definitely an eventful week — especially since I have 23 different classes a week. Twenty-three classes each with roughly 30 students — most of whom have only Korean names — means that I will never know their names. It’s kind of sad really.

I have five third-grade classes, six fourth-grade classes, five fifth grade classes and six sixth grade classes. While it sounds like a handful (and in some aspects it is), I only have to make one lesson plan for each grade per week, and on three of the five days of the week, I have three hours after classes to lesson plan. It’s not easy being me, though.

I’m kind of a rock star around this place. The first day I was here, the principal introduced me over the announcements — the same announcements they do on closed-circuit television. From what I’ve heard this is a very common occurrence, and that means all the kids know who I am before I’ve ever met them. They’re always excited to see the new teacher to whom they can say “Hello!” and practice their English. Well, most of them do. The girls often just say “Hi!” and giggle incessantly.

The first set of third- and fourth-grade classes went pretty smoothly. Those classes are really easy because the students don’t understand most of what I’m saying (think back to your first couple of years of foreign language class), so the Korean co-teacher directs most of the class and works mostly from the book and accompanying CD, which results in annoying songs being stuck in my head. Then Wednesday arrived along with my first fifth-grade class. My fifth-grade co-teacher and I don’t share an office, so we didn’t quite plan a lesson before the class started. I figured she would ease me into it with the CD and book like the other teachers.

After I finished my Powerpoint presentation about myself, I looked at her…only to see her looking back at me. Fuck. After an awkward second, she finally whispered to me that she was expecting me to lead the class and she would translate instructions or ideas the students didn’t understand. I had to improvise the activities for the rest of class. It’s not something I would recommend to any teacher, but I was much better with the rest of my classes since I already knew what to do from the first class.

Sixth graders, however, are the bane of my existence. The Korean school year starts in the spring and ends in the winter, so this is their last semester of elementary school. They simply no longer care. They’re loud, obnoxious, and don’t like English. It’s frustrating.

Some of the other teachers and me on a beach on the west coast of Seoul.

The entire staff, not just my co-teachers, have made the transition rather easy. On Tuesday, I went with them on an annual staff outing to a grape farm then to a beach 1.5 to two hours west of Seoul. We all had a good time, and all the teachers who spoke any English were very welcoming. The ride home included the treat of noraebang (don’t say “karaoke” because it’s Japanese, and Koreans hate the Japanese) by my, um, rather inebriated principals and co-workers. I might or might not have sung Britney Spears’ “Toxic” on the bus, and I’ll leave it at that.

All in all, the school has been great, and I’m sure it’ll get better once I get into my after-school classes, which are smaller and have students who are smarter and a little more eager to learn. Goodness knows that I’ll be learning just as much right along with them.

Back from the dead

Ok, so I landed in Korea and went MIA for 3+ weeks. I spent the first two weeks here doing very little, but that doesn’t mean it was uneventful. I arrived one week before my orientation for the Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education was supposed to start to get adjusted physically, financially and mentally. The first few jet-lagged nights weren’t as bad as they could’ve been thanks to my prolific sleeping abilities.

As the girlfriend worked during the day, I was left to my own machinations. My days usually consisted of taking the subway to various parts of Seoul and simply walking around the neighborhoods and/or watching “Scrubs.”

In Gangnam, more or less the financial district of Seoul

In the Namsangol Hanbok Village

Walking around town alone soon became monotonous and turned into more hours of “Scrubs.” I watched four and a half seasons in less than two weeks — alone in a studio apartment with a dog. It was pretty gross. The second week of visual gluttony resulted from fabulous Korean foresight and efficiency: I received an e-mail the Sunday before my orienation that said I had been moved into the second orientation one week later.

At least that meant I could get settled into my apartment sooner instead of staying crammed into a studio with two people and a dog. I drag one of my 50-pound bags across town to the meeting point only to have this conversation after the obligatory greetings:

Korean co-teacher: That’s a really big bag.
Me: Yeah, I know. We can just drop it off at my apartment.
Korean co-teacher: Where’s your apartment?

It’s rather disconcerting to find out the person who is supposed to take me to my apartment doesn’t know where it is. Apparently they confused “I’m already in Seoul but staying with my girlfriend for the time being, but I still need an apartment” with “I’ve found myself a place to live, so don’t find me an apartment.” Luckily, though, another native-speaking English teacher (henceforth known as an NSET) at the girlfriend’s school is leaving her two-bedroom apartment in Itaewon, which is more or less the shady expat neighborhood. The area isn’t ideal, but it’s hard to turn down a two-bedroom apartment compared to a cramped studio.

Orientation, though, couldn’t arrive soon enough — and it was (for the most part) fantastic when it finally did. That was when the reality of traveling finally set in. The orientation, set about 1.5 hours outside Seoul, comprised about 200 NSETs from all over the world, including the U.S., Ireland, England, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and South Africa. Teacher camp, as the girlfriend called it, meant being confined with these people for six days with no escape. As a result, the best thing we had — as cheesy as it sounds — was each other. As important as the workshops were, the most significant result of the orientation was that all the NSETs, most of whom came alone to this unfamiliar country, could build a network.

The moment I realized we were all in this together occurred (rather appropriately?) while I was illicitly drinking off-campus (shhh!) with a handful of Irish and English NSETs. Despite the various accents, we all spoke, literally and figuratively, the same language. We had all traveled halfway around the world to be most likely the only fluent English speaker in our school, but now we were no longer alone. Nobody was “the Canadian” or “the Irish guy” here; we were all English teachers.

Now the fun really begins, and I promise to tell you about it more often. I’m finally here. Let’s go.

Korean Air Review

My plane as seen from O'Hare

The nearly 14-hour flight from Chicago O’Hare to Seoul Incheon passed by rather quickly thanks to my all-night packing affair coupled with my propensity for sleeping on moving vehicles. All in all, I’m sure I slept more than seven hours of the flight, which is probably a major reason I can’t truly believe I flew halfway around the world.

The six or so hours I was conscious were actually rather pleasant for being strapped to a seat inside a cabin suspended 32,000 feet in the air. I flew Korean Air, and the journey was much easier than I had anticipated. For a pre-paid flight, I wasn’t going to be difficult, but I had heard good things from my mom, who flew Korean Air from Dallas to Seoul en route to Vietnam.

This particular flight didn’t have personal viewing screens, just a large projection in the middle of the cabin. I had my own means of entertainment with my laptop, my Nintendo DS and my iPod, so I was rather indifferent to this fact, especially because they showed Korean news and some crazy Korean movie that involved (from what I could gather from glances and not reading the subtitles) a girl who gained superpowers from having too much Soju. It was worth the occasional peek.

There was lots of leg room, especially when I put the seat back. I was surprised at how far the seats leaned back, but I wasn’t going to complain. It definitely helped the sleeping patterns. The few occasions I woke up were coincidentally (unless I have some uncanny sense) the same times the attendants served food. The staff was very friendly despite a bit of a language barrier, and the meals were a little better than typical airline food. For each of our meals, we had two choices of entrees, one Korean and one, well, not-so-Korean. Between meals, the staff also provided snacks, such as a choice between a BBQ pork-stuffed bun and a banana half, as well as tea in addition to the standard airline drinks.

Overall, Korean Air was a pleasant trip, especially since I didn’t have to pay for the ticket (thanks, Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education). I would fly them again, and I probably will since I’ve read flights around the tiny South Korean peninsula are rather affordable.

Has anyone else flown Korean Air? What was your experience like? Any recommendations on other overseas carriers?

And off we go

I decided to make (read: procrastinate) packing into an all-night affair. Since this was also my last night in my room and house of the past two years, I had cleaning to do on top of that. The Olympics were no help, either, as NBC forced me to peek into the Michael Phelps love-fest as well as the women’s all-around gymnastics competition. Nastia Liukin provided quite the respite from a stressful day.

Anyway, packing and cleaning for an overseas move, limited to two 50-pound bags and a carry-on, I had to first and foremost prioritize between things I really needed and things that added to the piles of black garbage bags of what essentially became junk. I donated three full bags of clothing, and various things like clothes hangers, a TV stand, my desk and a golf putter ended up in my front yard free for passers-by to collect.

This arduous process of streamlining my life to (almost) the bare necessities took me until 5:15 a.m., which also happened to be the same time I needed to leave to catch the bus. The final rush of cleaning carried me to the bus, on which I stayed awake for about 10 minutes. Next thing I knew, I was working out the cricks in my neck as we pulled into Detroit Metro Airport. This was only the beginning of my prolific sleep habits for this trip.

I had little semblance of coherence. For the past five years, I’ve flown — although domestically — at least twice a year. I should know the check-in process in and out: Scan ID or credit card, grab boarding pass, wait for luggage tags. Today I decided to walk up to the check-in counter and absently stare at the clerk. After an awkward pause, she points to the kiosk and says, “Sir, you can start checking in now.”

Oh, right.

After boarding and falling asleep before take off, I found myself dazed and landing in Chicago 15 minutes later — thanks to the time zone change — but four hours before my next flight. I meandered my way over to the international terminal and prepared myself for the next flight; being the only one at the gate, I set my stuff down in a corner, laid my pillow on the ground, and slept for yet another 2+ hours.

The countdown of days left in the U.S. had now become a matter of hours and minutes. I made my final calls to my parents and my brother in the minutes before boarding, letting them know I’ll e-mail them as soon as I land on the other side of the world. I hang up my American phone for the final time and get in line to Korea — but not before I enjoyed my last truly American lunch.

A Big Mac is an appropriate final meal in the U.S.

But as I tried to get on the plane holding my fresh Big Mac, the Korean Air employees noticed on my boarding pass — the same one with which I went through security when I changed terminals — that I had been “randomly” chosen to be searched, usually annoying but moreso exasperating now that we were only a half hour before departure.

After a quick frisk, inspection of my full 38-liter backpack and watching my Big Mac roll through the X-ray machine, I rushed back to my gate where they were essentially holding the plane for me. I found my seat, inhaled my McDonald’s, and immediately did what I do best: I fluffed my pillow and fell asleep before take off. After a pattern of sleeping, eating, watching Scrubs, sleeping, eating and sleeping, I was overlooking the green mountains of Korea and slowly descending toward Seoul.

KE 038: I'm guessing that's "Chicago" in Hangul.

I’ve made it. Let’s begin.

You say goodbye, and I say hello

Things are a changin’ as I’ve said my first goodbyes and said my first hellos. The first goodbye is usually the most dramatic, and this was no exception. I said goodbye in the most theatrical fashion to the one thing that has been with me from the very beginning to the very end of my college journey: my five-year-old laptop. Its performance was quickly fading into oblivion, so I recently purchased a MacBook to make the technological aspect of life more tolerable.

After I took out the hard drive — the only salvageable part in the computer — my roommates and I ceremoniously grabbed our golf club, hockey stick and bike pump and marched into our front yard where we proceeded to go Office Space on it. The only thing missing from the carnage was a Geto Boys soundtrack.

The aftermath of a dramatic goodbye to my old laptop

The next — and first real — goodbyes came this evening at our Ultimate summer league. This week’s games were the finals, which my team won (no big accomplishment this year in a league of four teams), so this would be my last time playing frisbee with all these kids. These were the kids with whom I spent the most time in the past four years, and now I was saying, “Take care of yourself and keep in touch.”

The thing about goodbyes is that they’re always awkward, whether it’s the result of the circumstances or some figment of my overactive imagination. I think I’m always expecting something a little more dramatic, especially with the people closest to me, but what more can you really say other than, “See you later, and good luck with [insert future goals here]“?

The simplest goodbyes are the easiest, but it just means I’m ready to say new hellos — in only three days.

One last American jaunt

The Sears Tower from the front steps of the Art Institute of Chicago

As excited as I am to move to Seoul, I know I’ll miss plenty of things from the midwest. One of those things will definitely be Chicago. Though I’m sure I’ll get a similar feeling of the hustle and bustle of the big city in Seoul, I do have a special place in my heart for Chicago. As a suburban-ite, I’ve always liked having a little bit of a rush around me, and Chicago fulfills that and then some.

My brother (from Texas) visited me in East Lansing, and since I’m unemployed, I figured I’d show him Chicago since he’d have no real reason to see Chicago anytime soon. We took a two-day whirlwind tour of the town. The trip started somewhat ominously: As soon as we left my house, my iPod — the entertainment for the 3.5-hour drive — died. Despite that, the rest of the trip went quite swimmingly.

We arrived on Wednesday in the early afternoon to my friend’s apartment which is somewhere between Lincoln Park and Lakeview. My friend had some errands to finish, so my brother and I hiked to the free Lincoln Park Zoo. It didn’t seem so far on the map, but it turned out to be about a 2.5-mile walk, which was fine since we got to see the town firsthand. To the zoo, around it and back was by far the most I’ve walked in a long time, but that’s Chicago for you.

Then later that night, my friend joined us downtown where we wandered out to dinner and then Navy Pier. Navy Pier is clearly for tourists — idiots like me and my brother — as evidenced by the kiosk selling disposable cameras and sunblock and the gratuitous twice-a-week fireworks show. It makes sense, though, since it provides a fantastic view of the skyline, especially at night.

Thursday was a long day. We started with the Art Institute of Chicago, one of the most famous art museums in the United States. My favorite exhibit, maybe because of how surprisingly interesting it was as it sat among more classical pieces of art such as “A Sunday on La Grand Jatte“, was probably the paperweight collection.

The paperweight collection at the Art Institute of Chicago

Who would’ve thought there would be so much work put into paperweights? They were so intricate and ornate, especially for hunks of glass that are supposed to sit on stacks of paper. I usually just use a stapler for that purpose.

Once we finished strolling through the Institute, we headed off to the Korean Consulate so I could drop off my paperwork for my E-2 visa. It all went very smoothly, an in-and-out job. It was especially easy because I didn’t have to do an interview since Korean immigration issued me a notice of appointment instead of a visa confirmation number. Finally getting the last of the paperwork out of the way is quite liberating. I’m almost there.

With only an afternoon left in Chicago, my brother and I did a lot of wandering, up to the north end of The Magnificent Mile back through Millennium and Grant Parks to the south end of the downtown loop, the Museum Campus. Throughout the final 2.6-mile trek, the city — with its people and towering skyscrapers — always felt alive, which isn’t something that can be said about most places.

The Chicago skyline as seen from the Adler Planetarium