The trip here was relatively uneventful. As soon as I found out I passed training, I signed my contract and they loaded me and my luggage on to the KTX train bound for Daegu. The KTX is the bullet train, and it is super fast, and a sweet ride, especially when you are booked in a first class seat.
The Korean country side is eclectic but quite beautiful. We passed cities, mountains, farms, and many many rice fields. Many people were working their fields, with nothing more than a hoe. . .and they all seemed to be solo jobs. . .there was never more than one person working in the middle of an enormous field.
As the sun set, my train pulled into the Daegu station, so I strapped on my backpack grabbed my extremely heavy suitcase and headed off the train. . .there waiting for me was what can only be described as a flight of stairs akin to Mt. Everest. . .so, I giggle to myself and begin the process of slowly working my way up the mountain with an ocean of people flying past me, knocking me, and of course tripping over my obnoxious sized suitcase. Suddenly out of no where a man who seemed to be in his sixties comes up grabs my suitcase and begins to fly up the stairs with it. I stood their stunned, by the sheer strength and speed of this man twice my age, and then realized it is my bag he has and I run up after him. I reach the top of the stairs at the same time he does. . .he places my suitcase down, bows to me and takes off. I stammer out "kahm sahm nee dah" (thank you) after him, but he is already gone. . .I stand their in awe, not quite sure what to do next. I guess I should find the person I am supposed to meet. . .
I turn around and there is Philip, who is charged with picking me up from the station. Philip works for Chungdahm, and his english is what he calls survival english. . .but it is still quite good. He brings me to my home.
Home.
A place of my own.
It is brightly colored and has what I like to call "a home start up kit"--a box with a towel, a plate, a spoon, chopsticks, and soap. I have a wall full of orange and pink flowers, and the brightest pinkest comforter with huge green and purple flowers. . .it is incredibly tacky and I love it.
The next morning, I get a knock at the door. I am still in my jammies, a bit smelly from yesterday's travels, and I have pimple cream dotted in my problem areas. I wait for a minute, hoping the knocker will go away, but they continue to knock. I have no choice. . .so I stumble to the door. Of course, it is not a regular key operated door, it is electronic, and i have no idea how to open it. So, I tug on the handle, push buttons, and do just about everything but still the door won't open. . .and all I can think is who is on the other side and what must they be thinking. I can't really call out, because most likely there is a Korean on the other side of the door, so I struggle with the door for about 3 or 4 minutes, and then finally, I come across the one button in english. . ."open/close". . .idiot!. . .push the open, and wah-lah. . .the door opens. Then. . . .then. . .I realize (as I am staring at this very puzzled Korean man) that I still have the pimple cream on my face.
"Do. . .uh. . .you say English?"
"yes" (I say with marked relief)
"No. No. say Korean?"
"oh, No." (with marked disappointment)
"uh. . .my toilet. . .do you have tool?" (He makes a plunger gesture)
"No. I. . . .just. . .moved (stupid hand gesture). . .in. . .last night (other stupid hand gesture.) Sorry?"
"Okay." (he bows and leaves.)
So, that wasn't terrible. . .if only I had remembered to wash my face! Oh well. . .so it goes. I settle back to unpacking, and 10 minutes later another knock comes to the door. Oh great. . .now what, at least the pimple cream is gone and I know how to work the door handle. . .
There at the door is the same sweet Korean man. This time holding donuts and milk, and says it is for me. For me? I didn't even have a plunger. . .I didn't do anything, but smell bad and look crazy. But it would be rude not to take it. . .and well, it is donuts. . .So, I take it. . .and invite him in. (of course, i broke major korean protocol on accepting the gift right away. . .you are supposed to refuse a couple of times, then accept it with both hands) Yeah, I didn't refuse, and took it with one hand. . .(me and my silly american ways). . .but like a polite american, I invite him into my messy yet humble abode. He comes in, I clear a spot at the table and ask his name.
His Korean name is Pyon. . .his English name is Chris, and he has been wanting a foreign friend so he can learn english. . .I told him I've been wanting a Korean friend so I can learn Korean. So, now we are going to help each other out. . .we both had our translation books out and we talked about movies and music and our families. . .he in English and me in very bad Korean. . .(for the record, the Korean language puts a lot of emphasis on vowels and not so much on consonants. . .it is very difficult to say properly). Chris said that most Koreans are scared of foreigners because they (Koreans) can't speak English, and that I am very lucky to already know it, because it is a language of the world. Wow. . .that simple statement makes me even more happy to be doing what I am doing. . .I am helping people communicate. . .Chris said he gets so frustrated because he can't say what he is thinking in English. . .(I told him I have that problem too).
Self reflection moment. . .I find it interesting that everything I teach or find interest in centers around self expression and communication. Theatre is a way of expressing ideas and feelings through the body and tongue and teaching english is not just teaching people the right words, but it is teaching them how to critically think and express their ideas in english. I find expression to be profound. . . it seems that life centers around finding a way to communicate. . .the mute/deaf learns sign language, the blind learn braille, the bees dance, the dog barks, and we continually create devices to heighten our communication capabilities.
It's interesting to find communication at the center of my life--a girl who couldn't bare to talk in high school on most days.
So, I have a new Korean friend, even though I was smelly, in my jammies, and quite hideous when I met him. . .
I also went to the school, met my fellow teachers. . .drank lots of soju (rice wine) and beer, and ate some great food.
I do love this life. . .I love the generosity of the people around me, the culture, and the beauty. What's interesting is I do miss my people, my culture, and the beauty of my own country. . .but my desire to experience this culture counters that longing. . .for now.
and so a quote. . .before i let you go. . .
"What would it be like to have not only color vision but culture vision, the ability to see the multiple world's of others." --Mary Catherine Bateson
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