Dear Friends and Family,

The odds were always pretty favorable that I’d commit to a year in South Korea. There is a strong demand for native English speaker teachers (especially females), I like seasons and hiking amongst fir trees, I felt a pull towards the origin of my aunts, I could pretty much live anywhere to achieve my goal of living within a different society, and reportedly the ability to save money (more travel!) is higher in Korea. But there are reasons why Korea tends to pay its native teachers better: while the country has achieved phenomenal economic success, the cultural rules of the country run deep and are reputed difficult for Westerners to function in. I had been warned, on numerous occasions, that the patriarchal male system remains firmly intact thanks to the culture’s deep-rooted attachment to Confucianism, that there were many miscommunication problems between employer and employee, that Westerners feel very isolated, that Korean culture can be harsh, and worst of all, that there were many unscrupulous employers in Korea and that recourse for a Westerner under Korean law is limited. Although I had also been assured that with the right situation, teaching in Korea is utterly worth it.

I came to view my decision on where to teach as a gamble and truly, any situation besides staying snuggled in Seattle was a risk. But what I did do is my best to mitigate the chances of placing myself in a bad situation. I obtained the CELTA, I read up on teaching in Korea, I carefully contemplated what I had discovered about myself as a teacher in Bangkok, and I vigilantly examined the conditions proposed by each job offer that I received. In the end, I selected the contract to teach at Daegu Foreign Language High School based on working conditions: number of teaching hours, that I’d be teaching at a public school (v. good job in Korea), I was told that I could act on my own ideas regarding teaching the curriculum, and I hoped that high schoolers would be advanced and motivated students.

There. Decision made.

But I was very scared. What if the job had been misrepresented to me? What were the implications that I was running late (due to Visa problems)? What if my living situation was not favorable? What if I had immediate problems with the boss? What if… What if… what if… what if…? So much for my goal of quieting fears – my fears had returned, were perched on my shoulders, and they spoke me every time my thoughts strayed from Thailand to Korea. I know myself to be a bad gambler and so even the knowledge that I had done my best to mitigate the risks was cold comfort.

And exiting Thailand was a pain. It was 10:30 pm when I arrived at Bangkok International, earlier than my flight check-in started and so I was forced to stand for 40 minutes leaning against my suitcase cart, I got lost on the way to a far counter to pay for my excess baggage weight, I had decided to redeem the tourist tax (which was barely worth the headache), and I had read about but had forgotten the 500 THB exit fee that Thailand charges exiting foreigners, which necessitated a run to the cash machine. I had just a little Thai money left and coupled that with my tourist tax money to buy a few cans of coconut cream and some yellow curry but then I found myself thirsty and unable to afford bottled water (which was 5 times the usual price).

I was the only Westerner on the plane but I did get an entire 3-seat airplane row to myself. Not long after we were in the air, I made myself as comfortable as possible, took a melatonin and sleepily endured the normal airplane sleeping discomfort, the seemingly constant announcements to fasten our seatbelts and that the flight attendants kept waking me to check under my blanket to ensure I was buckled in. I was not destined to get a lot of sleep during the 6 hour flight and nor did I. The sun was above the horizon throwing sparkles on the water as we approached Korea from the South Sea (aka East China Sea) but the land was covered by clouds and our decent into Daegu offered me the first glimpse of Korea.

My first impression was of a lot of tall green hills surrounding a city that had a remarkable number of white, uniform apartment buildings that from the air resembled cave stalagmites up-side-down.

Customs and collecting baggage was easy. Withdrawing money from an ATM was easy. Finding a taxi driver was easy as I had a note in Korean to give to the driver. (I felt a bit like Paddington Bear – with a note around my neck saying please look after this bear, he has a dozen suitcases and likes marmalade.). The driver’s ability to find the school administration building in which I was directed to wait at was not impressive but I sat in the back seat looking genuinely helpless, smiled a lot and provided him with a phone number to call. I arrived at the Daegu Metropolitan School District Headquarters just before 10 in the morning and had four or five hours to kill before the Korean native-speaker-supervisor who was expecting me returned from orientation with 35 other native teacher in tow. I just didn’t have it in me to take myself exploring and so I was sweetly provided with a computer for entertainment and instant coffee. At lunch, one of the ladies ordered “black noodles” and she ordered the same for me. I had wandered away to use the facilities at 2:30 when the bus arrived and spilled a crowd of newly minted Daegu “native English” speaking teachers, all with suitcases or backpacks. I was greeted warmly by the supervisor and slotted myself into the activities, truly a euphemism for wandering around, not quite sure where we were supposed to be. I spoke with a few of the other teachers but again, I just didn’t have in me to do my friendly “hi, I’m Laura” routine. We were eventually gathered into a large meeting room and soon Korean school employers began arriving to attend a welcome, this is “their agreement” meeting (with us politely listening and not understanding a word of the Korean) and then take us to our new homes and schools.

I immediately liked the man who came to fetch me – again, while I shall badly want to describe the people that I’m meeting here, for the time-being, I’m going to follow the same practice as I did with the CELTA and this blog: I’m going to stick to as necessary nice descriptions and skip the negative. Oh, I’ll likely slip up and start using nicknames as I did before but for now I must remember that I’m here for a year, that Korea can be a cultural mine field for Westerners (even if they do not keep a blog), and that finding my blog within Google is scarily easy. So let’s suffice to say that the man that fetched me was nice and unfailingly courteous, even when he met my suitcases. And this is saying something, no?

He drove me and another teacher (who lived in the same apartment building as me when I first arrived and sometimes teaches a city-wide gifted class that is held at my school) to my apartment. We tugged the suitcases to the third floor and the kind sir dug out a key, patiently waited while I took my first look at the place (it met or exceeded my expectations), noticed that my wardrobe was unsteady and helped level it before taking me to the school. He told me that it is a five minute walk to school, but it is less than a block away so I laughed and told him that it was more like a 5 second walk. I was avid to see my new work place but exhaustion was also seeping along my limbs and I could feel grit and oils from my unwashed face beginning to run. My guide had inquired if I was hungry several times and I finally cottoned on to ask if he was hungry and he told me that the school serves dinner at 6:20. Well, I could eat, of course. We first walked to the faculty room and I was introduced around, I did a lot of smiling and knew that I would not retain a single name or what he/she taught and I barely caught the faces. Oh, I was tired. I knew that this was going to be a problem on the morrow but just couldn’t deal with it then. Of course now everyone knows my name and face while I’m still… learning.

We then walked with a group of other teachers to the cafeteria. I followed my guide: I picked up a rectangular metal tray with 5 small circular dishes indented into it, two metal chopsticks, and a spoon. I walked over to the food line and helped myself to kimchi (always the first dish served) and rice and some other dishes that I must confess that I now cannot recall and that I certainly cannot name. I liked the food and acquitted myself well with the chopsticks but I had a horribly embarrassing moment: you see, I can tell when my face gets to must-wash stage because it upsets my eyes. My face needed a good wash but I was not comfortable enough to do so. So there I was at dinner and I took a bite of something hot and the combination of the spicy food + grit from my face was too much for my eyes. Tears flowed down my faced and I had been given no napkin. I gesticulated for a few moments before finally someone pointed out toilet paper on a near by table. I turned away to wipe my eyes and take a deep breath, than sat down and profusely apologized. Ooooohhhhh! Not, not a good first impression!

Not long after that, my guide inquired if I should like to head to my apartment. He would’ve walked me but that was quite unnecessary so I took myself back to the apartment, washed my face, and was asleep minutes after my iPod promised to wake me for my first day on the job in the morning.

Daegu Foreign Language High School here I come!

Laura