Batman, Monkeys, and a Warrior Princess

There was one stand-out moment during our mindless Orientation Week, one presenter that actually engaged me, and that was the representative from T-Hope. T-Hope stands for Teachers Helping Other People Everywhere. It's an organization that raises funds for charities, donates their time to these charities, and reaches out to underprivileged children.

The organization is run entirely by volunteers, and it was started by a Canadian! Dan Gauthier founded T-Hope in 2006, six years after moving here from Ottawa. Dan is highly respected among both the local and foreign communities for his work helping underprivileged children in Ulsan.

In October, T-Hope will announce its plans for a new program that will aim to help Korean children with Autism by providing 1-on-1 time with volunteers looking to spend a day with a buddy. I'm really excited for this program because of the time I spent working as a Respite worker in Toronto. To date, it's the most rewarding job I've ever had.

Today, though, we visited another one of the charities T-Hope is involved with: The Ulsan Orphanage in nearby Eonyang. I had signed up to hang out with Elementary school aged children, making crafts and going for a hike. Others were taking care of babies in a nursery, playing soccer, or dancing with teenage girls.

Unfortunately, as we rode the 40-minute bus ride from downtown Ulsan to Eonyang, the rain started coming down something fierce. Obviously the hike wasn't going to happen.

But hey, who needs hiking when you can make superhero masks and swords and shields and watch a bunch of boys chase each other up and down the hallway like monsters straight out of Where the Wild Things Are? Forget hiking!

And that's exactly what we did.

We were given construction paper, scissors, glue, glitter, and yarn and told to go nuts and do whatever we wanted. Now what do little boys love to play more than anything else in the world? That's right, superheroes. A pair of teachers had the brilliant idea of making superhero masks, and from then on, there was no going back.

Within no time, there were billions of scraps of paper strewn along the floors and tables like confetti on January 1st in Times Square. I know that there were 9 teachers present in the game-room-turned-arts-and-crafts-room, but I honestly can't tell you how many kids there were. There might have been 20 or so, but they ran around with such energy and excitement that it sometimes felt like 40.

I think it's fair to say that Iron Man, Batman, and Spider-Man are the fan favourites in Korea, in that order. Soon enough, Batman and Spidey were having it out, swords in hand, because that's totally how Batman and Spider-Man roll. It was glorious.

There was something missing, though: Shields. If you're going to give Batman a sword, you might as well at least give him a shield. So I got to work making a Hylian Shield for Batman, because everybody knows Batman and Link get their equipment from the same Bazaar in Hyrule Castle Town. Once Kat heard was I was doing, though, she turned and said she was making a shield too! Great minds think alike. We had basically become nothing more than a production line producing weaponry for the Epic Superhero Battle of Eonyang.

Once I'd witnessed enough bloodshed and violence, though, I turned my attention to more peaceful endeavours. That's when I fell in love with the cutest little angel I'd ever laid eyes on. She must've been no more than five or six years old. I thought back to when Doris was that age, and I decided this little one was going to be my new buddy. She had no idea that I was trying to tell her that I liked the monkey on her shirt, so I started acting and talking like a monkey to clear things up for her.

She laughed; I was in. She asked me to draw a monkey for her, and I did the best I could, but for some reason, my monkeys and my bears share a striking resemblance. I gave it to her and got a smile of approval. Then I saw her reach for the green crayon. She was colouring my awesome monkey-bear--this masterpiece that that I'd just put my heart and soul into--green! And you know what? She made it awesomer. She cut that sucker out and added it to the butterfly mask somebody had made for her earlier.

I've always wanted to own a monkey, but now I desperately want to own a green monkey. He will be mine one day. And his name shall be Ricardo.

At this point, I got distracted by a bunch of boys who wanted me to make airplanes for them. Every few minutes, the same boy would come back with another friend and ask for another plane. They were amassing an army of paper war planes. By the time I was done making all of their planes, my monkey friend had disappeared.

That's when Kat introduced me to the Warrior Princess. Kat had fashioned a crown and a sword for this fearless warrior, and so I go to work on a heart-shaped shield for her to carry into battle. She would unleash a fury of cuteness upon all the boys on the battlefield and take no prisoners.

Sadly, shortly after that, we were told that it was time to pack things up. It had only been 90 minutes, and we were supposed to go for the full two hours, but we did as we were told. The room was cleaned in no time, and you would never have guessed that a hurricane of construction paper had just ripped through there.

While we were cleaning, the Warrior Princess and her friend climbed on top of Kat like she was a mountain to be conquered. One of them gave her a hug, and once she put the girl down, she then tried to pick Kat up by wrapping her arms around one of Kat's legs. It was such a cute moment that it made me wish I could become a professional Orphanage Arts And Crafts Maker Person Guy so I could see that everyday. If that's not a real job, somebody needs to invent it.

Maybe I'll do it; just you watch.

Old School vs. New School

The entire time I've been here, I've been curious about what my co-teacher would say about my tattoos. Korean culture frowns upon them significantly. Or rather, it seems that perhaps it is the older, more traditional generation that tends to frown on them; after all, there are in fact tattoo shops to be found in Korea. The sentiment among the older crowd seems to be that tats are generally associated with gangs. Common images among Korean gang members are tigers and Biblical scripture. I learned that last tidbit from my co-teacher after I finally broached the subject with her yesterday.

The reason I asked was that the week before I arrived here, I got a tattoo on my upper arm, thinking that the placement was high enough that I'd be able to conceal it with a golf shirt. I didn't want to have to wear long sleeves for the next twelve months, especially after being welcomed to Korea by a heatwave that made me long for the cool (in comparison) breeze of Leon in Nicaragua. For crying out loud, during orientation, they gave us each a small towel to wipe the layer of sweat off of our faces every 15 seconds!

Despite the fiery climate, I wore nothing but long sleeves during the first week of school because I wanted to dress to impress. Once I started to settle in, I figured the school had gotten comfortable enough with me, and so I pulled a golf shirt out of my wardrobe. As I put it on, though, I looked over at my arm, and wouldn't you know it, about 2 cm of the bottom of the tat were visible to the world. I cursed myself and endured another week of long sleeves.

Finally, I decided I'd had enough, and I took a risk with a different golf shirt. This one actually did a decent job of covering everything up. And I didn't feel sticky and gross all over by lunch time.

The day went by and none of my students or co-teachers said anything about it, so I figured I was safe. After all, if I'm standing with my arms down, the tattoo is on the underneath area of my arm--the part that touches the torso; it's only when I point with my left arm that it becomes exposed. That was why I made a conscious effort to point with my right arm and not extend my left arm at all. The paranoia was totally worth the feeling of the fan's air blowing against my skin.

I initiated the conversation with my co-teacher after a hearty lunch that left us both in desperate need of a nap. I figured I'd ask her while she was at ease. Slowly swiveling around in my chair to face her, I asked her what Koreans think of those who sport ink.

She had in fact caught a glimpse of my tattoo sneaking out from under my sleeve. Essentially, her response was that it's bad. She informed me about the gang tattoo culture that's present in Korea, and I in return explained how in North America, there are many who view it as an art form that is rich in history.

From there, we went on to have a very open and honest conversation about tattoos and what they mean. I explained to her that for people such as myself, a tattoo is an intimate reminder of something profoundly important to your life; it's to honour, remember, or celebrate something or someone.

As I explained the significance of each of my tattoos to her, I could see that she was trying very hard to be understanding. I didn't even mind that she had a terrible poker face about the whole situation, because despite not agreeing with me, she didn't talk down to me or try to shame me. Instead, she tried to educate me about her own perspective. She told me about a traditional custom among the older generation where males don't cut their hair out of respect to their elders (and/or ancestors). They are meant to keep their bodies pure. Hence, why tattoos would be frowned upon.

This  fascinated me for two reasons. The first was that this made me appreciate her attempt at understanding my ideas on tattoos that much more; she comes from a different generation, and while she holds strongly to those values, customs, and traditions, she doesn't pass judgement on others who think differently. I love my co-teacher.

The other reason this notion of tradition resonated with me was that it reminded me of what she did during Chuseok (read: Thanksgiving week): She went into the mountains to visit the graves of her ancestors, which is what pretty much every Korean does during Chuseok, other than go visit their grandparents.

During that conversation, she told me that traditional custom states that your elders be buried in the mountains, however in recent years, this tradition has started to die down among younger Koreans in favour of cremation. It seems that many long-held beliefs are being challenged more and more by a modern, Western influences. I mean, as I said earlier, there are even tattoo shops found here. I wouldn't be surprised if that's a somewhat relatively new development in the culture here.

The fact that South Korea is currently being led by its first ever female President in Ms. Park Geun-hye also has to speak volumes to the cultural shift taking place right now.

Then there's the way children are treated in schools these days. While some schools still turn a blind eye to teachers who hit their students, this idea is frowned upon now at many schools. Kids seem to be allowed more freedom to be kids these days. It's not uncommon, at least at my school, to walk into a classroom as the bell rings to find a couple kids wrestling; students wear their hats; middle school girls chronically check their hair using a hand-held mirror they keep in their desks. This is not how things used to be, according to my co-teacher.

I'm not sure what all of this means for the history and the future of Korea and their respective places in the cultural landscape, or what Korean customs will look like down the road, but I do know that this seems like a very intriguing time to be here; the cultural environment is changing quickly and drastically. South Korea is a nation trying to figure itself out. As a Canadian, I can relate.

Volleyball Tournament

For those who didn't see my first vlog on Facebook, Koreans have an alternative way of playing volleyball that is rather fascinating. In this version of the game, the net is lowered so that the bottom of the net is touching the floor. The game was created because Koreans believed that men had an advantage over women in the regular version of volleyball due to their physical strength. That's why men are only allowed to use their feet and head when hitting the ball, unless they're setting a female teammate up for a wicked spike.

Another key difference is that the ball is allowed to hit the floor each time somebody hits it, which adds an element of strategy to the game. What results is a hilariously chaotic free for all.

For example, often times a guy volleys the ball straight up in the air to set up a teammate for an unearthly spike, causing the defence to take a few steps back in order to give themselves time to react once the ball violently bounces towards them and causes their lives to flash before their very eyes. However at the last second, just as she's about to unleash that shattering spike, she hits the brakes and just taps the ball over the net with a feather-light touch.

Every time this happens, I'm convinced that the play is over because there is no way in hell the defence can get to the ball in time. But sure enough, a female hand or foot somehow gets underneath it, barely keeping the ball alive just long enough for a teammate to spring into action with some non-conventional hit and save the day with nothing but sheer desperation driving them. This is how every single play goes down; it's insane. There are people diving and throwing themselves left and right, but they do it so effectively, like they're something out of Cirque du Soleil.

The other thing I love about the game is the absurd display of gravity-defying athletics from the men as they pull off some Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon-styled tricks with their feet. Let me paint you a picture:

Say the female doesn't fake the spike and actually lets one loose. The defence then has a split second to react, and somehow, some guy will spring into action and pull off some insane jump kick that requires him to bend his foot backward at an angle that should be humanly impossible. Not only does he keep the play alive, but he perfectly sets up the volley that precedes the spike. They're like soccer ninjas or something!

So this is the game we play every Wednesday following a couple rounds of traditional volleyball. Usually, though, they're more lenient with the rules and the men are permitted to use their arms when trying to defend a bouncing spike; we just can't use our arms to hit the ball over the net. I've become confident enough at that game in my first month here to stand my ground.

Sadly, we didn't play that game today, though, because today was a special day.

When I walked into the gym, every single teacher in the school was there, lined up in teams, with the gym teacher leading stretches. It was a school-wide tournament; there were some teachers there that I'd never even seen before! Every grade, the Admin, and the subject-specific teachers had their own teams.

Typically, only those interested in playing show up on Wednesdays. The numbers are usually anywhere between 14 and 18, because most of the women on staff don't want to play regular volleyball before jumping into the Korean version. However because this game actually tends to favour women, more teachers were willing to participate. As such, we were playing with legit rules! No screwing around this time; it was time for the big boys and girls to step up.

I definitely did not step up. I was more of the entertainment of the evening. It was like my feet were on backwards; every time the ball came barreling towards me and I tried to redirect it, it just seemed to go in whatever direction it damn well pleased. And this one lady totally zeroed in on me! She was going in for the kill every time she touched the ball, gunning for the weakest link.

Now I'm not saying I was flopping around like my legs were made of rubber; I hit the mark on half the balls that came my way. It's just that I felt like the Special Needs kid on the team; the kid who gets asked to join as an honourary member. Every time I connected, the crowd went ballistic in disbelief. I would've felt like a rock star if I didn't feel so useless at the same time.

The game was still pretty exciting, though. We came back from a 16-11 deficit with five unanswered points, and we kept it close 'til the end. The final score was 21-19. I was pleased with myself. Sort of.

Regardless of the result, though, it was pretty surreal to see such a high level of camaraderie among the entire staff. Everybody in that gym had a great time laughing at and with each other. I even got to talk to a couple of new faces. Granted, this tournament happens but once or twice a year; but even so, I'm grateful to be at such a closely-knit school. It's kind of like being back at Malvern.

Just another day at the office.

Working to Live

When I told friends and family about my plans to teach in Korea, the general reaction was disbelief and well wishes. Several people, however, expressed concerns that I might fall in love with Korea (and joked about me falling in love with a Korean) and were worried that I might decide to stay here indefinitely. I swore that I would only stay one year, and that is remains the plan—mainly, because I have grand schemes for 2014/2015, and I don’t intend on diverting from that path.

Having said that, though I have quickly come to understand exactly why people do end up staying here for extended periods of time. It’s all in the lifestyle of the Native Language Teacher. (That’s what we’re called here.)

Let me explain what I mean by first giving you some background information on me and explaining what sort of headspace I was in prior to coming to Korea. While I may come across to most who know me as an easy-going, easy to please, go with the flow kind of guy, that is actually a defence mechanism for me; I'm a very anxious person. The people and the places around me are what keep me stable, help me breathe, so I'm just happy to be around them. 

However, when it comes to my internalized world, I always need to feel like I'm in control, and I stress out easily when things I should be in control over are thrown for a loop. I over-think things, I over analyse things, I calculate everything in my life. It helps me make sense of things if I can see and connect the dots. For this reason, I've always been the type of person who lives in the future, or at least is thinking about the future. I can still live in the moment and enjoy the present, but underneath the surface, I'm still calculating, looking for how to connect those dots.

I think I've always been like that, but I just couldn't verbalize or identify it as a child. But as I got older and my responsibilities piled up and I developed goals for myself, I became fixated on these goals. That's how I became a workaholic.

Within the past year, however, my life goals have changed drastically. Click here for more on that. 

Korea is giving me the opportunity to live the precise life I want to live from here on out: The one where I work to live, as opposed to live to work. I go to work, do something I thoroughly enjoy, and then come home and do something that I passionately love.

But beyond that, by removing one of the largest areas of stress in my life, I have discovered newfound clarity, and the view is beautiful. There's nothing to over analyse or over think here. All you can do is enjoy and appreciate everything as it comes.

I still have a plan that I'd like to follow—one that will hopefully lead to a career as a writer—but the beautiful thing about this plan is that it won't ever consume my life, which is something that I've struggled with in the past. 

Korea is my training ground for learning how to let go.

And We Thought Canadians Knew What Hospitality Means...

I’ve heard a lot horror stories about bus drivers and cabbies in Korea—mainly, that they just don’t give a crap and drive with reckless abandon. The night of our incident with little Ms. Good Samaritan, though, we happened to take a cab to the local go-to bar for foreigners, Sticky Fingers, and we got a ride from the sweetest cab driver I will likely ever encounter in my entire life.

For one thing, he complemented everybody in the car; the ladies were beautiful, and Obama was very handsome. We tried to return the kindness, but he simply smiled and waved it off with total humility. And you know he wasn't blowing smoke up our collective asses to score a tip, because as I mentioned before, people don't tip in Korea; the guy was just being super friendly and wanted to make us feel welcome in his home country, which happens all the time!

Then the dude started showing us pictures of his son! He was such a proud poppa. The ladies inquired as to whether his son had a boyfriend. More laughs were had all around.

Now it’s not that there aren’t kind and sociable people back home--I’ve encountered more than my share of friendly Canadians who were eager to help a stranger out and treat him with the utmost care--but it just seems to mean that much more when the kindness is directed towards a foreigner. Approaching a stranger with a smile is one thing, but to approach somebody who speaks an entirely different language with the same smile is flat out beautiful. And people do it here like it's second nature; it comes as natural as breathing and walking.

Take the lady at my bank, for example. The other day, my co-teacher took me to my bank after work in order to activate my account with my Alien Registration Card. We arrived there at exactly 6:01. Now first of all, the banks close for business at 4:00, at which point the doors shut and the employees just do paper work for the last two hours of their work day.

So technically, I arrived a minute after punching out time. But instead of shooing me away, this woman greeted me with a smile.

Once my account situation was taken care of, I pushed my luck and asked if it would at all be possible to convert this pesky American $50 bill that I'd been lugging around since the day I landed in Korea. (For some reason, when I first arrived at the airport in Seoul, the people at the exchange bank wouldn't accept this one particular bill because they claimed it was “too old.” No idea what that means, but I'd been carrying it around with me this whole time.) 

Note: I just realized I've been in Korea for an entire month. Whoa.

The woman told me that she couldn't convert it for me because the bank was now closed, but she would change it out of her own pocket and just convert it over for herself the following day. What a doll!

And then, because $50 American came to 52, 000 won and some change, she went around asking her co-workers if they had one more thousand won because she wanted to make sure she gave me the right amount, even though I told her I was fine with just the 50, 000.

Even before I landed in Korea, I've been experiencing the warmth of Korean people. When our plane was descending into Ulsan, we were reminded to fill out those pesky declaration forms. I didn't have a pen with me, so I couldn't do anything. Then the woman sitting beside me, who I'd had absolutely no communication with during the entire duration of our short flight from Seoul, reached into her purse to grab a pen for me without me uttering so much as a word in her direction. 

I know it's a very small act of kindness, but it struck a chord with me immediately, because of the fact that I didn't even have to ask. She reacted so quickly and without thinking. Like I said, it's second nature here. In a culture that is so seeped in etiquette, social hierarchy, and respect, making others feel welcome is just the proper thing to do! 

I even see it in my school. One day, I was walking down the hallway towards the cafeteria, and most of the other teachers had already left for lunch, so I was the only adult around. I noticed that one boy had a stream of blood rolling down his leg, and so I tried to explain to him that he should go to the washroom and clean himself up. He didn't understand, so I just waved him over and told him to follow me. 

Suddenly, a teacher came out of her classroom and was heading in our direction. Another boy who witnessed the whole exchange between myself and the bleeding student pointed at me and said in Korean that I am very Korean. And what exactly made me so Korean? Helping somebody out who was in need.

Eating Out: Round 3

Alright, I know I already have two dining-related adventures up, but this one is a doozy. Let me set the scene for you: We had just left Taehwa River Park after an event called Sports Day. It was a fundraiser for a family that recently suffered a tragic loss.

My fine company included Monique, Kat, and Kat. (We will distinguish between Kats by referring to one of them as vegetarian Kat for the sake of clarity, and because it pertains to the story.) We were all rather hungry and in desperate search to feed the monsters that cried out from within our bellies. 

Unfortunately, I don’t think anybody in the group was at all familiar with this part of the city, so we were sort of just wandering around, looking for a place to eat. For some reason, this task proved to be rather difficult on this particular night—which is weird, because typically, if you do a full 360 spin pretty much anywhere in the city, you will easily spot at least half a dozen restaurants in your immediate vicinity. We had not experienced this problem before, so being silly foreigners, we settled on the first place we finally found.

Oh, if only I could go back in time; if only I had a Delorian. Then I could drive by our group at extreme speeds at just the right moment so that we would turn our heads in the direction of the car as it passed by, and we would gaze down that brightly-lit road off to our left, the one filled with beautiful neon signs flashing the names of dozens of restaurants, which we somehow managed to miss entirely in our desperate search for food. We were blinded by hunger.

Alas, we sealed our fate and agreed to venture in. Our first sign should have been the fact that the place was almost empty, but once again, our hunger blinded us.

On the upside, this was a Korean restaurant with chairs and regular tables for sitting; I’m not crazy about sitting cross legged on the floor for an hour every time I want to eat out. I was born without nature's cushions, (read: an ass) so I have nothing to support me during such outings.

On the downside, the menu had no pictures. Warning sign #2.

When the time came to order, we were at a loss; we didn’t speak a lick of Korean, and the waitress didn’t speak a lick of English. These types of conversations can often be very frustrating. It also quickly became a small spectacle, as the 10 or so patrons in the restaurant all turned to look on in amusement at this exercise in futility.

Thankfully, a gentleman sitting in the back of the restaurant with his wife spoke a bit of English, and offered to come over and help. This was very important to us, as we needed to let the waitress know that Kat was a vegetarian.

As our luck would have it, this restaurant served nothing but pork. Had we listened to Monique when she apparently pointed out the large pig cartoon character by the entrance on our way into the restaurant, we could've averted this entire ordeal. Somehow, though, not only did we not hear her comment at the time, but three out of the four of us somehow managed to miss this giant Porky Pig lookalike because we were so insanely hungry!

(I would find out later that we had stumbled into a restaurant that specialized in what is called samgyeopsal. Look it up if you'd like, but it's essentially pork wrapped in lettuce.)

So in the end, we (tried) to order one soup, from which Kat would likely have to fish out the pork, and three orders of pork. What we got however, was four soups that we all agreed tasted like broth, a bunch of little sides, which I can't even remember anymore, because I was so utterly unimpressed with the entire meal, large pieces of lettuce, and a burner covered in what looked to us like poorly cooked pork with way too much fat for our liking.

Now look, I’m not one to harp on how exotic food looks--mainly because I never tried a nacatamal, my favourite Nicaraguan dish, until I was probably 20 or so, because I thought it looked gross. I’ve learned not to judge a food by its appearance. And like I said last week, I had squid for the first time, and it turned out to be 5 different flavours of awesome!

Having said that, something about the colour of the pork really made me uneasy. Cooked pork shouldn’t be that colour! So we turned the burner back on after the waitress turned it off, and that led to an annoying little back and forth game between us and the waitress that required us to act like stealthy ninjas. She would come around and turn the burner off, and when she wasn't looking, we would turn it back on and pretend like nothing happened. 

Now as I said, the meal in front of us consisted of a bowl of broth-ish soup, rice, loads of lettuce, a boatload of pork, and an assortment of small little accompaniments for the pork. Not sure how these pieces went together exactly, I dug into my soup and my rice. I could handle rice.

Kat, being the brave soul that she is, was the first to dig into the pork.

And that’s when shit got real, son. (Let me preface this, by the way, by saying that the events that are to follow, and our reaction to them, are not an example of a group of narrow-minded foreigners experiencing some sort of culture shock, but is in fact a case of a woman with no concept of personal space. I clarified this with my co-workers and my friend, Jay, afterwards.)

The man who had helped us out earlier was now leaving with his wife. Or so we thought. You see, the wife decided to be a Good Samaritan of sorts, and help us out with our meal. She wanted to show us how to properly enjoy this traditional Korean meal, which was very generous of her. Unfortunately, she went well beyond the call of duty. So far beyond the call of duty that 75% of those present at the table would leave the restaurant that night feeling violated.

First, she took a piece of lettuce and put a piece of pork in it, along with an assortment of other things, wrapped it all up, and handed it over to Kat. I expected her to smile, gaze at us until we returned a smile of understanding and appreciation for the help, and then head out on her merry way. But no, she really wanted to help out this lot of foreigners. Kat downed the little wrap, despite the fact that the pork contained an uncomfortable amount of fat.

Next, she made another little pork wrap concoction and (here’s where logic just peaced out the kitchen window) fed it to Monique. She wasn’t content with placing it in Monique’s hand, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure Monique went to grab for it—oh no, she went as far as to yell “Aaaah!” to motion Monique to open wide. The look of surprise, confusion, and utter bewilderment on Monique’s face as this woman’s hand descended into her mouth is one that will stay with me forever. We were all dying of laughter, while poor Monique had tears streaming down her face as this woman wrestled to feed her the food.

Maybe we were just being close-minded foreigners, unable to appreciate the affection and generousity this woman was trying to show us, but I just don’t buy it. Like I said, other Koreans who I’ve told this story, all reacted with bulged eyes at that point in the story.

And then the woman capped off her performance with one hell of a grand finale of a gesture: She very casually scooped out a little bit of vegetarian Kat's soup, with Kat’s spoon, mind you, and proceeded to sample it for herself, put the spoon back in the bowl, presumably satisfied with the taste, and walked out the door.

Needless to say, she was the focal point of our conversation for the remainder of our overwhelmingly unsatisfactory dinner. We left, still unable to process what had just transpired, and headed for vegetarian Kat's  apartment with soju in hand, and in desperate need of a drink after that meal. I had to buy a Snickers bar just to wash the taste of the food out of my mouth. (Though at least I didn't have to wash the taste of a stranger's hand out of my mouth.)

I would like to point out at this time that, just by chance, our school cafeteria served Samgyeopsal that following Monday, and it did not taste like the food we had that night. So the moral of the story is: If the restaurant you’re walking into is empty, there’s probably a reason for that.

Daewangam Park, Ulgi Lighthouse, and Patbingsu

I met up with Jay at the same McDonalds where I'd first made his acquaintance. He was set to take me to a lighthouse in nearby Dong-Gu. We went with two of his friends, Ken and a really nice young fellow with a Korean name that escapes me. (Apparently Sue was working and couldn't make it out.) We all got into Jay’s car and made our way.

The entire drive there, Ken was fascinated with all things Canada, and was eager to share with me about his experiences in Vancouver, Jasper, and Banff. He said they were all “beyond description.” He also showed me pictures of his trip to New York City with his son. Every time he smiled, his entire face scrunched up around his nose and forehead, and it made me smile and laugh. Ken was a really affable guy.

The other guy seemed really nice, but I sensed that he was a little self-conscious about his Korean, as many seem to be, so he was a little on the quiet side until towards the end of the trip, when perhaps he started warming up to me.

This awesome looking playground sat at the entrance to the park. I wanted so desperately to be 8 years old again at that very moment.

Since Jay brought me to Daewangam Park specifically to show me the lighthouse, we didn't go on an extensive tour of the park, but what I saw was beautiful. We walked down this dirt path that was lined with pine, bamboo trees, and unidentifiable fruit trees. 

Some of the thinner pine trees in the back had trunks straight out of the Lorax.

There were also these things. Ken couldn't quite translate what they said, but it was something to do with looking past first impressions. At least we think that's what he was trying to say.

As we got towards the end of the trail, the tall white lighthouse came into view.

The lighthouse was built in 1905. Between 1906 and 1987, fishing and whaling industries, an iron foundry, and a shipyard all helped develop Bangeojin Port.

For whatever reason, I couldn't find any information on this other, much larger lighthouse.

From there, we began our descent down towards the water, following a wooden ramp. Once we got to the bottom, off to the right, the ground descended further down to the shore. There was a camp of older women sitting among the rocks and waving us down, like a couple of aged mermaids trying to seduce a boat of explorers. It turned out they’re in fact called “sea women.” They catch fish and sell it to people passing by.

Directly in front of us, though, was a gorgeous view of the ocean, so we had to turn down the sea women. Equally breathtaking was a sort of boardwalk that stretched across a large collection of huge rocks, twisting around every bend until you get to the end of the rocks. Once there, you find yourself on an elevated and overcrowded wooden deck looking out towards the ocean, with nothing but blue water and sky for as far as the eye can see. (Just ignore the gross industrial section off to the side.)

King Munmu, who was responsible for unifying Korea in 668 AD, wished to become a dragon upon his death in order to protect his kingdom from his enemies. After he died, he was buried under a large rock in the East Sea, where it is believed his spirit became the guardian dragon of his kingdom, and the rock thence became known as Dae-wang Am," which translates to "The Rock of the Great King." Inspired by her husband, the Queen's spirit also became a dragon, and made this rock its new home in order to protect the East Sea. This rock also came to be known as Dae-Wang Am.. 

Two fascinating notes: People love to fish way too much there. There were some guys out on the rocks, and I have absolutely no idea how they got down there. I scanned the area looking for a way to get down there, and I was completely stumped.

Do you see him?! HOW? HOW DID HE GET THERE?!

Jay also informed me that apparently he’s seen cats living among the rocks, presumably surviving off of the fish that they catch. Sad face. I told him he should take one home next time.

From left to right: Jay, myself, and WHY THE HELL CAN'T I REMEMBER HIS NAME?! GAAH!

After out little sightseeing walk, Jay took us out to a place called Moby Dick for some dessert. It was right across from Ilsan Beach, which I don’t know if I’ll ever visit, because the water is literally right beside the industrial area. Gross.

Pretty, right? Just don't pan to the right.

Our dessert was an interesting bowl fit for the four of us called patbingsu. It contains shaved ice, sweetened condensed milk, various fruits, and topped by red beans. Then you mix everything together and you get something that looks like a weird sort of rice pudding. 

I was warned by some of the other Canadian teachers who have been in Korea for a long time to not eat any desserts with beans in them because they’re gross, but I was curious. It didn't disappoint. It definitely won't be the last time I stuff myself with patbingsu. (Sorry there's no picture; I'm not the picture taking type when it comes to my food. I like to enjoy it more with my mouth than with my eyes.)

Jay & Sue

Sorry about the lack of blog posts. I've been busy trying to catch up with my other blog. (Why don’t you check it out after you’re done here!) Let me update you on the comings and goings of the past few weeks.

I made my first Korean-born friends in the least of all Koren places imaginable: McDonalds. Three Saturdays ago, I made my way into a McDonalds for some good ol’ fashioned greasy grub. I got myself the classic Big Mac and made my way upstairs.

Three bites into my Big Mac, a Korean man stopped to my left and asked me where I was from in perfect English. I told him I was from Canada and he responded by saying that I didn’t look Canadian (read: white). I laughed at this comment and explained that my family immigrated from Nicaragua when I was 3 years old. His eyes bulged when I told him this, and he explained that his wife was actually studying Spanish, and he wondered if he could introduce me to her. I said of course, and so I grabbed my tray and sat down to eat lunch with my two new friends, Jay and Sue.

They were a lovely couple. I told them all about Canada and Nicaragua, and they told me all about Ulsan. They even offered to take me out sightseeing the following weekend to a lighthouse not too far from us. (More on that in a bit.) I eagerly agreed to join them, and we all ate with smiles on our faces, content with having made a new international friend.

In a bizarre way, I suppose it was sort of fitting that I met these guys at a McDonalds; it reminded me of just how similar we all are. McDonalds is McDonalds is McDonalds, no matter where you are, just as a friend is a friend is a friend, wherever you are.

Samsan Elementary School

I work in a gorgeous school. It has three floors with several buildings and a gigantic gym that are connected by hallways that run between buildings on the third floor. Outside, they have a huge dirt field, complete with a playground, bleachers, and soccer and basketball nets.

The place is only 12 years old, and it shows. Everything is so new and clean! The hallways are littered with pictures of famous people and places from English-speaking countries, super comfortable lounging chairs, a beautiful display to commemorate the 2002 World Cup in Seoul, and even a gym for teachers to work out in!

 

During the first week, all I did was introduce myself over and over to every class I taught. I teach six Grade 3 and Grade 6 classes, and five Grade 4 and Grade 5 classes for a total of 22 different classes. Some students immediately started referring to me as Barack Obama, which I found hilarious. When I introduced myself in Korean, I got a standing ovation. I showed them pictures of my family, places I’ve travelled to, places in Canada, etc. and they seemed to approve.

I’ve gotten used to hearing “Hello, teacher!,” “Uri!,” or “Mendoza!” as I walk down the halls. I’ve also gotten used to being asked “How are you?” approximately 2, 104 times every day. Things got even more hectic after I had to introduce myself during the weekly Monday morning announcements, which are broadcast into television screens in every classroom. The whole production looks and feels like a news broadcast, and it’s manned by the students themselves, with the help of one of my co-teachers. Suddenly, everybody knew my name.

I try to reply to as many of them as I can, and hopefully that won’t change throughout the year. Foreigners excite them (and amuse them), and I’m not going to take that away from them, because I’ve already seen the types of lives these poor kids have. They have more stress in their lives than people three times their age. Many go to private hagwons (schools) after school for some sort of lessons, whether it’s in English, Taekwando, or something else. It’s not uncommon to see kids with their heads down in class out of sheer exhaustion. So if a high five from a guy they think looks like the leader of America puts a smile on their face, then I will hand out a thousand high fives a day.

I also met the staff at the school on the first week, including the Principal and Vice Principal. Everybody is super friendly and always greets me with a smile. Many of them even make an effort to try and speak with me, despite the fact that Koreans are deathly self-conscious of their English speaking skills. Even those who can’t speak English try to speak with me through somebody who can. I appreciate their effort so much, and try to return the kindness by approaching them as much as I can as well. My goal is to learn a decent amount of Korean to be able to carry on a basic conversation with them by year's end. I have several resources at home, and my co-teacher printed off several helpful sheets for me. I’m gonna be (sorta) tri-lingual by the time I get home!

 

 

Class shot #1

 

 

Class shot #2

 

Class shot #3

 



 

Class shot #4

 

 

Class shot #5

 

 

Class shot #6

 

 

Class shot #7 (All of the stations in pics 2-7 are just used for after school programs.)

 

 

 

Random lounging chairs in the hallway.

 

Beautiful little fountain in the main lobby.

 The building on the right with the bright domed roof is the gym.

 

 

This one's for you, Doris. These things are aaaallllll along the sidewalk. Whales are Ulsan's equivalent to the moose in Toronto. They're everywhere.

Settling Into My New Apartment

I won’t describe my apartment here, because I already did on the video I posted on Facebook. However, what I will talk about is the first taste of homesickness that unexpectedly hit me.

It was on my very first day in the apartment. That was Monday, August 26^th. I stood in my bedroom, with all of my belongings put away, my clothes folded, and my new life officially underway, and I felt overwhelmingly empty. Not because I didn’t like the apartment, but because it just hit me that my life was now a blank slate and I didn't know what to do with it. I had nobody; I had nothing; I didn’t know where anything was; I couldn’t communicate with anybody; I was completely alone. During orientation, I’d had my new friends to keep my mind from wandering down this path, but now these thoughts consumed my mind, and the silence was deafening.

I turned on the TV to combat that silence, and was surprised to find Prince Caspian playing in English. The movie offered no respite, though, and so I turned to my scrapbook, which is filled with pictures of all you beautiful folks back home. Flipping through the book, I felt a weight lift, and I was able to relax again.

 

And with that, I went to grab my first Korean dinner alone. I couldn’t have done it without you all.

Sightseeing Tour During Orientation

During the Saturday of our orientation week, we were taken on a sightseeing trip to (finally) explore a little bit of Ulsan. Unfortunately, it was raining that day, so some things had to be cancelled, like a visit to Grand Park. So instead we got a tour of a historical museum, hours of meandering around the Hyundai Department Store (a large rectangular prism of a mall with more floors than I could count), a free lunch, and one hell of a memorable trip to a whale museum.

The historical museum was alright. I’ve learned after my summer of travelling this year that once you’ve seen one historical museum, you’ve seen them all. I just can’t get myself to care about things like the clothing worn during a particular time period. I look at some of those exhibits and don't feel a thing or give a damn. I’m more of an art museum kind of guy.

 

There was one pretty fun part to the museum, though: The children’s museum! There was a map of Ulsan on the floor with particular spots that lit up the walls when you stepped on them, there were fort-building blocks, a giant boat that you could pretend to steer, as well as a boat driving video game that gave you an interactive tour of a river! Sadly, we only got like 10 minutes in there before we had to go. We were holding up the group.

I had mixed feelings about the whale museum, mainly because some of the animals were confined to painfully small areas—particularly this one gorgeous sea turtle, who could only swim back and forth in his little tank, which was already filled with a ridiculous amount of animals, including a manta ray, mini-sharks, and an army of fish. The dolphins also must’ve been feeling some serious claustrophobia.

There was a dolphin show going on when we got there, but the place was already packed, so a few of us opted to go check out what was upstairs. We ended up getting a show of our own—we saw these huuuuuge turtles going at it!

 

At first we thought the turtles were trying to make a break for it and climb over the enclosed fence, because there was one turtle who was pushing the fence, actually moving it by walking into it, and the other turtle looked to be climbing on to its shell in order to walk over the top bar.

I suddenly got flashes of that Simpsons episode where they’re at the dog race and Santa’s Little Helper runs on to the track and pounces on one of the other dogs. Bart says, “It looks like he’s trying to jump over her, but he can’t quite make it. You can do it, Santa’s Little Helper! Jump! Jump!”

Except the only difference here was that I don’t think the female turtle WANTED to be jumped on, if you catch my drift. She kept making these noises that will forever haunt my dreams; noises that surely were screaming something along the lines of “Get him off of me, you sick humans! Don’t just stand there, you dirty bastards! This isn’t a show!” in turtle. But instead, I opted to take pictures. I’m going to hell.

Thankfully, the zookeeper stepped into action and helped the lady out. All he did, though, was just lift the turtle by the edge of his shell and pull him off of her. I wanted to turn to him and say, “Zookeeper, zookeeper! Those turtles are killing each other!” (Sorry, I’ll stop with the Simpsons references.) Unfortunately, this turtle turned out to be a persistent little bugger, and he just kept coming for her. At one point, he was thrusting at her from a perpendicular angle! It was some seriously kinky stuff!

After a while, the zookeeper finally pulled the male out of the fenced area to give the female a break. Mr. Turtle did not look pleased. And then, Mr. Genius Zookeeper brought the female out as well so visitors could see her from close up. That's when the roof turned into a game of cat and mouse. We yelled at the female to make a run for it, but I don’t know if she got away in time or not, because then we went into this room on the roof to look at a bunch of other animals, including rats, snakes, birds, and small turtles. When we got back, the chase was over.

Oh, there was also another fenced off area with a mishmash of chickens, rabbits, and gerbils.

And that, my friends, is what happens at a Korean museum.

 

 That one's for you, Art.

 

 

Trapped Mr. Dolphin (sad face)

 

 

Dory!

 

Photobombing Shark

 



 

My new best friend :)

 

 

That poor turtle did nothing but swim from one end of the tank to the other. And look at the traffic in there!

 

 

Striking a pose.

 

 

At this point, we still thought they were just trying to make a break for it. Brilliant cooperative work. The turtle on the ground was sacrificing herself so buddy here could get out. Or so we thought.

 



Giggitty

 



Most sociable little fella I've ever seen.

 



He wanted to say hello to everybody!

 



 

I'm a turtle! Wishes do come true!

 



 

Mike having a moment with his new lady friend.

 

The gang!

 



Megan! Behind you! It's a whale!