peace and pasta.

I made it through my second week with plans for Saturday yoga and a meet-up with Lynn and Sue in Seomyeon after. I had another wonderful yoga session. The style of yoga is slightly different than what I am used to. I generally practice Ashtanga but this class is a Sivananda class - much of the same concept but tweaks in the positions - something I had to get used to. It is a two hour class with intense breathing exercises in the beginning and then the 12 asanas that follow. I am now able to get up and stay in a headstand all by myself: a proud moment when I achieved that! It is a wonderfully diverse class with foreigners and Koreans alike. The man who teaches it is an English instructor from California and quite the accomplished yogi.

After yoga I met up with Sue and Lynn for a pasta meal. I wasn't sure how Koreans would produce pasta - my experience in Thailand with "pasta" had been far from a delicacy. But, it turned out to be delicious! I was pleasantly surprised and had a chance to get to know Sue and Lynn a little better. It was an excellent way to spend a Saturday. I left their company for home and a shower with the promise to return to that area in the evening for a night out but, once home, my lazy bones kicked in and I had a relaxing night to myself.

week two.

My first full week of work was replete with the dramatic underpinnings of a virgin teacher learning the ropes. Each day I felt myself get more and more confident with the process and my ability to organize and categorize helped me immensely. The seemingly simple task of learning almost 60 students' names was a great undertaking; especially when some names were more popular than others: Harry, Sally, Tommy, Jenny. We also had some gems: Kobe, Spiderman, Highstar, Rice (who just recently told me he wants to change his name to Lice - I had to break the news to him that Lice is not really all that desirable of a name; it's unclear whether or not he got the picture). That is the other brilliant part of it, the kids often want to change their names, AH! Just when you think you've got a handle on it all!

All of the curriculum, tests, and material are prepared for us. So, our job is to transfer that information to the kids in the most efficient and effective way possible. My issue came not with the transmission of information so much as the control of the students. I, erroneously, was under the stereotypical impression that Korean children would be obedient and respectful - oh how wrong I was! Once they realized that I have NO idea what they are saying when speaking in Korean (actually, Hangul), all hell seemed to break loose. Some of my classes were much better than others but I had a few precious students who felt that dancing, singing, and generally creating mayhem was the better way to spend their time with me than sitting, listening, and repeating. The fatigue that coupled with the constant abrading of children who laughed in your face or looked at you in total confusion was immense. At the end of the day I was ready collapse.

During that second week I did not do much more in the evening than go home, make myself something to eat, and pass out from shear exhaustion.

yearning for yoga.

My first night out in Busan under my belt, the activity of the week took its hold on me and my compromised immunity. I woke Saturday morning feeling slightly under the weather. But, before I had even arrived in Busan I had found an English taught yoga class that only meets once a week on Saturday, and had been adamant with myself that I would attend. So, garnering my waning energy, yoga mat in tow, I made my way to Seomyeon, an area about a 25 minute subway ride from my apartment in Minam. I am quite happy that I went, my body was not thanking me the next day, but I had an opportunity to meet some wonderful, fellow foreigners and made my first foray into creating new friendships. The rest of my day was dedicated to sleep. My cold was taking a firmer hold on me and I was hoping to keep it at bay as my first full week of classes loomed.

Sunday I ventured to a store called HomePlus - a huge multinational chain that is a megastore complete with groceries, clothing, electronics, housewares, etc. - to stock up on some groceries and some necessary home furnishings that I was missing. I was gratified to discover that HomePlus stocks a whole organic dry foods section as well as organic produce. Imagine my delight! I could remain my hippie, happy self without compromise even on the other side of the world. HomePlus even replete with recycled paper toilet tissue and natural detergents and cleaners! Joy!

I had also discovered a smaller, independently owned "hippie shop" just down the street from my work. The store is run by this wonderful woman who speaks relatively fluent English and who has become my friend in the last couple of months. She often gives me discounts and little things for free. She carries some of the organic items not found at HomePlus but, accordingly, her prices are higher - I do my best to patronize her shop while not breaking the bank. She was incredibly impressed my first time shopping there by my Queen's "big green bag:" the biodegradable, recycled material bags that Queen's gave out to student for free during Frosh Week. She loved it and wanted to make a replica of it to sell in her store. She pulled out her cellphone and took all kinds of pictures of it - it was quite entertaining.

Aside: Things that are hard/impossible to find here: cheese (if a store stocks it, it's a pretty penny and I tend to buy in bulk because there is no guarantee there will be any when you return), raw oatmeal (I have yet to find that), brown bread (the brown bread I have found is questionably brown bread - apparently the white bread phenomenon spread far and wide here), and chickpeas (one of my favorite forms of protein consumption, beans, are very hard to come by - I've only found kidney beans and dried soy beans, so far). Those are the items I miss most. Otherwise I have adapted quite well to the foods available to me. And, it doesn't hurt that I can retain my organic eating habits.

With a stocked fridge and an achy body I spent the rest of my Sunday sleeping and lounging, mentally preparing myself for the week ahead.

meet and greet.

My Thursday training mission went much smoother as I was familiar with the terrain and my stress levels were considerably lower. I made it to and from Changwon without incident and realized how much more I enjoy the Tuesday/Thursday schedule over Monday, Wednesday, Friday: it isn't such a flurry of action at every turn.

In the evenings, I had been eating Kim Bop - the Korean version of sushi - as it was the only thing I knew how to order and could be sure of the vegetarian nature of it. Brandon, the HR guy, had brought Brent and myself out to lunch at the kim bop place downstairs from work on my first day so I learned how to say, "vegetable sushi, no ham" (they tend to like to sneak ham into all sorts of things, a slight nuisance for me). So, my diet for the first few days consisted of kim bop for dinner and some kind of pastry for breakfast/lunch.

Busan has an alarming number of bakeries - something I was not anticipating. There is one omnipresent chain called "Paris Baguette" that labels everything in English and Korean and makes some mighty tasty, gluttonous delights. There are also other smaller chains and independent bakeries all over the place. My first few weeks I definitely took advantage of that and would go to Paris Baguette every morning for my breakfast pastry. Because Korea was never colonized by a European power, the prevalence of bakeries seems counter-cultural and out of place, but I am not complaining!

We had decided, my fellow teachers and I, that we would go out on Friday evening to get to know one another and to officially meet outside of the workplace. After work Lynn led us downtown to an area that is known for its bar scene, as there are two large universities in the vicinity. We went out to supper for this fabulous fried rice with all sorts of seafood that is cooked on a private burner at your table - you are responsible for the observation of the food and temperature control. Delicious! We then made our way to a bar called "Thursday Party" - an infamous foreigner hang out - Brent and I were overwhelmed by the number of white people. We decided to move on. We landed at a bar called OL 55, another foreign run place but with much better music and a more relaxed scene. We played pool, drank Korean beer (which is surprisingly tasty), and had a chance to glimpse the social personalities of one another. It was a wonderful treat and hugely gratifying to realize that I enjoyed my co-workers.

Feeling the week's exploits begin to pile onto my psyche, I decided to call it a night around 3am and shared a taxi home with Brent (he and I were living in the same neighborhood).

I survived my first week.

training to avoid trauma.

I had to wake early the morning after my arrival to make my way to a city about an hour and a half away from Busan. Because Headquarters did not want to train me in Seoul, I was to meet one of the trainers in another city, as he was there on some other business. Nerves on edge and clutching my directions like an amulet, I safely made it to Changwon without incident. I trained for about two hours and then headed back to Busan to teach my first day of classes: what chaos! My hours for work are from 1p-9p. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday my actual classes run from 2:30 to 7:10 (the periods before and after are for prepping and grading). Tuesday and Thursday my classes run from 3:00 to 7:45. My Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule is a whirlwind as I have 6 different classes that change every 45 minutes. Five minute melees signify the transition of classes as one group of students tramples the other in an attempt to secure their prized seat. Tuesday and Thursday are much more relaxed as I only have 4 actual classes that meet for two periods, rather than one, making the transitions much more calm and less frequent.

My first day was pure mayhem: attempting to remember everything I had been told that morning, struggling to make it through the lesson in the proper time frame, desperately trying to remember everyone's English name (or give them one if such was the case), and keeping up with the integrated technology - it makes me exhausted just remembering it. But, needless to say, I made it through my first day alive and knew that once I got the hang of everything the level of insanity would subside. Dealing with swathes of children who, more often than not, have no idea what you are saying to them can lead to strained communication and frustration. That evening I went home and collapsed from my 13-hour day, not looking forward to a repeat performance the following morning.

baptism.

So, here I go again. My wandering feet were yearning for new geography and I was in no mood to stop them.

I was nuptially summoned home for an incredibly fortifying spell: family, friends, yoga, and my favorite big sister's gorgeous wedding. During the maelstrom of planning and plotting, a ploy for Korea burst into my conscious. Ready for another grand adventure but with some green accompaniment, teaching English abroad seemed just about ideal. Allowing personal testimony of friends and acquaintances to guide my compass, Busan, South Korea won my attentions. Alas, my interests morphed into the real McCoy and, after months of interviewing, fingerprinting, background checking, and general paperwork drama, I booked my one-way ticket for a year in Korea. Thus, the morning after the great marital soiree, I was enroute to Seoul.

(The reason for my inappropriately prompt exit was the fact that I was technically supposed to have been in Korea February 23 to have a week of training in Seoul and then to begin classes on March 3 but, with the wedding on February 29 and March 1 - March 2 was the earliest I could leave the States. The school was absolutely understanding and made arrangements for me to come a week late but that meant I had to leave awkwardly soon after the wedding.)

Originally slated to take a week's training in Seoul, plans changed. Arriving in Seoul unscathed and requisitely stiff from hours on a plane (total air time was 17 hours) I spent a single night in Seoul and woke at an obscenely early hour to catch the high speed train south to my final destination: Busan (about a 3 hour ride). I was picked up at the station by an employee of the academy I was to work for; Mr. Jo, a man of little English. Our first stop was my new home for the year, given only enough time to drop my bags and feel sufficiently overwhelmed by the pace of my arrival, we got back into the car and headed to work.

The academy I am working for is called CDI April English. CDI is the corporation that owns private English schools all over Korea. I work for an arm of CDI: April English. April English is responsible for lower level English: phonics, preliminary speaking/intonation; our demographic pulled from elementary and middle school students. Our branch is brand new so every teacher and staff member is treading in unknown waters, an interesting dynamic to come in to.

On my introduction to the school I met the Human Resources contact who I had become well acquainted with through the grueling hiring and Visa process, Brandon - most excellent to put a face to a stream of emails and phone conversations. I then met my fellow teachers: Brent, the other "foreigner," hails from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan: a Canadian comfort and an adventurous spirit with a startlingly dry wit; Lynn, my co-teacher and the head instructor: Korean and wonderful. A true gem when it comes to information about Busan and a veritable social princess with her extensive connections with every club and restaurant owner that is worth knowing; Carrie, also Korean and Brent's co-teacher: a seasoned traveler and always ready with a smile and a laugh; And, Amy, a very new addition to our staff (she just started work in the beginning of May): Korean, from Seoul who came down to Busan to be closer to her Canadian love; her palpable joy for life is entirely infectious and intoxicating.

There is also my branch manager, Ally, a devout Christian (she has invited both Brent and myself to join her at her church services) and quietly and timidly supportive of the teaching staff. Sue and Emily are our front desk support and act as our constant connection between the school and the parents. They are wonderful to have greet you on arrival and are both enchanted with my energy. I am convinced they are constantly laughing at me, but in good spirit; they are both incredibly kind and indispensably helpful.

Last but not least is Yoon: our operations fellow. He is the man responsible for my apartment relocation (to be described in depth shortly). A positively lovely man and completely understanding of my ineptitude in dealing with Korean people when it comes to technical and housing issues. He is my go-to guy.

So, my first day on the job I was briefly introduced to all of the technology and sat in on a day's worth of my classes that Brandon was covering for me in my tardiness. This was Tuesday. Wednesday morning I was to navigate my own way to another city, train for a couple of hours in the morning, and return back to Busan for my classes at 1 pm. Baptism by the fiery bowels of hell, as I like to say. But, let me digress: my first night in Busan. After sitting in on hours of classes, trying desperately not to pass out from exhaustion, I was released.

On first viewing of my apartment the daunting observation: no bed, a fact that made me feel nauseous having been told there would be a bed, and the image of me sleeping on a pile of my own clothes on the floor my first night in the city horrified me. Mentioning this to Mr. Jo, with as much casualness as I could muster, he assured me that there would be a bed by the time I was home from work; thank heavens. Arriving back to my apartment, after a few trials and errors with directions from the subway, I had a more substantial chance to check out the place. I cannot say I was entirely dismayed but nor was I entirely pleased with the setting for my subsequent year. The three most striking drawbacks: first, the unfortunate presence of one of my least favorite stenches: stale cigarette smoke; second, the lack of stove and, in its stead, a plug in hot-plate; and third, the allowance of heat only from 10 o'clock in the evening until 8 o'clock in the morning, awkward. But, having prepared myself to expect the worse, I was reassuringly positive and committed to making the most of it all. While Mr. Jo had made good of his promise of a bed, sheets, pillows, and blankets were absent. As I was preparing to spend the night in several layers of clothes using my towel as my blanket, Mr. Jo darkened my door with all the necessary bedding. Saved again by Mr. Jo!

Sufficiently warm and in much better spirits after having shed the prospect of a night in perpetual discomfort, I settled in for my first night in my new city.

ambitious asados.

our first full day in mendoza introduced us to outing planning & several new friends. hostel lao, equipped with an asado barbeque, enticed philip & i to attempt our inaugural, independent asado foray. filled with unfounded confidence we made our way to the butcher & bought, what can only be considered, an obscene amount of meat. dinner plans in the making and the prospect of a relaxing, lazy day on the hammocks found us content to remain in the lovely lull of lao. we booked ourselves appropriate mendoza outings (white water adventures, winery tours, tastings) & spent the rest of the afternoon recruiting two new friends to white water with us. we successfully convinced an entrepreneurial texan wine aficionado & a californian soon-to-be college graduate. with plans laid & energy levels low, the day turned into evening and we prepared ourselves for the asado.

from its inception our skills at asado-ing were glaringly immature. i was playing with large slabs of meat as philip was desperately trying to ignite a fire that would create the beautiful, necessary wood embers so integral to asado. struggling along, i made the industrious decision to enlist an argentine occupant of the hostel for help. he, innocently, obliged: huge mistake on his part. his asado prowess landed him in the position of action & he ended up taking over the show as i apologized aggressively & kept him company while he cooked me dinner. unfortunately, in the midst of the asado flurry, philip fell ill & retreated, mid-meat-making, to bed. this sudden sickness left me alone with a mass of meat & no carnivorous companion.

in an attempt to lessen the load, i peddled my plate o' meat throughout the hostel & made myself some friends in the process. i mean, let's be honest, who isn't disarmed into friendship with a girl & a plate of meat?

i was subsequently co-opted into a group of three aussies & one brit who had temporarily made hostel lao their home. the brit, who i affectionately call "oso" (spanish for "bear"), because of his burly, bearded mug, had been traveling southern america on a road bike; by the time i encountered him, he had already clocked 3,000 kilometers! the three aussies had all worked together in australia & had taken the brit in as their own after having met at lao. we stayed up into the wee hours of morning drinking argentinian beer & i proudly earned the title of "chugsy" because of my unprecedented ability to beat all of them at beer chugging contests. what an unexpected evening.


the infamous "chugerette" miranda.