Enhanced Social Distancing Campaign

Here in South Korea, COVID-19 is still a major concern despite being relatively successful in containing the virus through a massive testing effort. There is cautious optimism because cases of new infections have gradually decreased in Korea after having been a major hot-spot for the virus. There are now about 75-150 new cases in the entire country each day, down from 500-700 at the peak of the outbreak. Busan typically has zero or one new case per day and only 108 known infections in the city.

It seems that many of the new cases in South Korea are brought in by travellers from Europe and neighbouring Asian countries. As such, there are new restrictions on those entering the country. The most recent arrivals in Korea are asked to download a government app to report their symptoms and track their location, ensuring that they remain isolated at home for the required 14 day period. I suspect other governments around the world have or will adopt similar technological measures during this pandemic and I worry about privacy rights once we have returned to normalcy. Thankfully, I was not required to participate in this government tracking system when I arrived in Korea five weeks ago, and hopefully, I will not be subject to mandatory home-isolation in the future.

To reinforce the seriousness of the self-isolation measure, Prime Minister Chung Sye-kyun issued a strong warning that includes fines and imprisonment for Korean nationals and removal from the country for foreigners.  "There is a need to file complaints with those who do not abide by the rules without legitimate reasons and to order deportation in the case of foreigners.”

I have registered with the Canadian Embassy in Seoul and regularly receive updates on important issues for Canadians here and the situation back home. We’ve been informed that for the month of April direct flights from South Korea to Canada will stop. Both Air Canada and Korean Air have made that decision, but flights that connect in other countries such as Japan or USA are still available for those travelling onward to Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, and Montreal.

To prevent a second wave, the South Korean government has introduced an Enhanced Social Distancing Campaign for the next two weeks. While some in Korea have become more relaxed with social distancing in recent days, this campaign asks everyone for extra vigilance for two weeks. I think this a push to ensure that things are as safe as possible when schools open on April 6th.

The enhanced social distancing campaign essentially outlines best practices for hygiene and keeping a safe distance from others. The rule-loving bureaucrats at the Board of Education have especially glommed onto the point about returning home directly after leaving work and warned us that “if anyone is found to have contracted the virus and then spread it during this period by ignoring the rules will face a reprimand.” I can’t help but wonder if I have the terrible misfortune of contracting the coronavirus, will a reprimand, rather than flowers, be sent to my hospital bed?

Yesterday, I was almost trapped in my apartment. An accidental self-isolation, of sorts. Repairs are underway in various units in my apartment building. My neighbour’s door was held wide open by a doorstop. When I opened my door to leave, it formed an impassible box that prevented me from walking out. I tried to move passed but could not make myself thin enough to slip through. After deciding that I really did need to get back to school, I pushed, and pushed my neighbour’s door out of the way, making a loud screeching sound along the floor. I made my escape, heard but not seen.

The repair work has solved the mystery of the recently installed electrical outlet in my shower ceiling. The hot water heater that previously resided above my kitchen sink was moved into the shower. Why? I’m not sure. I suppose that since it’s now in the shower I won’t have to worry if it leaks.

The workers were kind enough to paint the ceiling in my shower and, oddly, gift me a filthy toothbrush. Another mystery. I assume the toothbrush is unrelated to social distancing.

South Korea and Japan in Comparison

This is not my first rodeo. Years ago, I was an Assistant Language Teacher in Japan as part of the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme.  Having such a positive experience in Japan for three years most definitely influenced my decision to return to ESL teaching and living abroad. Now that I am here in South Korea, I naturally reflect on my time in Japan set against my current reality. I even have occasional flashes of deja vu while sitting at my desk. Sometimes I have to stop myself from saying "Ohayo Gozaimasu" (Good morning in Japanese) in the mornings and replace it with "Annyeonghaseyo" (Hello in Korean). What would my new colleagues think of that slip-up?

I'm sure many things have changed in the JET programme over the years and one naturally loses track of the finer details, but I'll endeavour to speak about my particular experience, both in Japan and South Korea.

The first and most obvious difference is that I am now in a major Korean city of 3.5 million people versus a modest rural town in Japan. Busan has all of the conveniences of a large metropolis such as unlimited restaurant options, sight-seeing, subways and public transit, and opportunities to meet people, including other foreigners. My choices were more limited on a day-to-day basis but life in the Japanese countryside had its advantages too, like the fresh air, and the pseudo-celebrity status I had as a novelty to those who wouldn't normally encounter a Westerner. I am much less of a big deal in Busan.

I'm teaching at a middle school again, but my current school is considerably larger and better equipped. I had around 300 students at my main school in Japan. There are over 400 students at my school in Korea, but the building was designed to hold twice that many. My Japanese school was essentially bare-bones, with minimal administrative staff, few specialty classrooms, and air-conditioning inequitably provided only in the staff room. Unlike their Korean counterparts, my Japanese students had their very own outdoor swimming pool. Both my Japanese and Korean schools offer the option of squat and, I'm relieved to report, western toilets.

My Korean middle school is supported by a large, full-time administrative team plus a handy-man and night security guard. There is a massive cafeteria for the students to have lunch together, rather than eating in their homerooms like my Japanese students. My Korean students have access to audio-visual and broadcasting rooms, lounge areas on each floor, a theatre hall, club rooms, career centre, English dedicated classrooms, and personal lockers. The trade-off is that they are monitored by CCTV cameras. The air-conditioning system, which is currently being upgraded, is supplied throughout the entire school, including the classrooms. I look forward to a comfortable teaching environment this summer.

I find the staff and teachers to be quite similar in each country. In both Japan and Korea exceptionally kind teachers and staff took a personal interest in ensuring that I was faring well and had everything I needed for a happy life. I have regularly been taken out for lunch this month and toured around the neighbourhood. Both schools also had teachers who would keep their distance and others who would proudly shout "hello" or "goodbye" with a broad smile whenever we met. Japanese and Korean teachers equally lack confidence in English, but we find a way to communicate nonetheless. Flattery seems to be a common way to initiate conversation, "Oh, you can use chopsticks. Amazing!" or "Your Japanese/Korean is so good!"

After one month in Korea, I am just as confused by the Korean language as I was by Nihon-go. Korean words just don't seem to have any rhyme, reason, or pattern. Interestingly, I assumed that Japanese and Korean were completely distinct languages, but more and more I am hearing common words. If they actually mean the same thing, it will greatly aid in my language acquisition.

My Japanese school naturally created a soft-landing by bringing me to Japan one month before the school term began. In that month I was able to acclimatize, tour the school, explore my town, and meet staff, teachers, and friends. Likewise, the coronavirus in Korea has given me an impromptu, extended respite before I commence teaching.

While some may experience isolation and loneliness when moving abroad, I had a ready-made circle of friends in Japan. From the very beginning, I belonged to a group that included local Japanese community members and visiting teachers. Being adopted by these kind people allowed me to make meaningful friendships and connections while experiencing aspects of Japanese life I wouldn't have had the opportunity to otherwise. My situation in Korea, coupled with the social-distancing necessary these days, has left my social-life lacking for now, but I am hopeful that it will improve in time.

I've noticed that dinning alone seems to be more acceptable in Japan. Plenty of people ate alone and many restaurants had counter space that was ideal for singles. Alternatively, Korean restaurants seem to cater to couples and groups. I almost never see anyone sitting alone, and some restaurants only offer large menu items that feed 2-4 people.

Despite the challenges, both Japan and South Korea are special places and great for experiencing fascinating cultures and amazing people. I'm sure there will be much more on this topic in the coming months.

First Haircut

You officially live somewhere, rather than being on vacation, when you get your hair cut in a foreign country. I had been putting it off for a few weeks but my hair was growing over my ears and I was starting to look like an unkempt British prime minister, so I began preparing for my first haircut in Korea.

Actually, preparations for my haircut started a few weeks in advance. I went on a solo scouting mission around the neighbourhood, looking for a nearby barber. I spotted a swirly barber pole at street-level but failed to locate the shop in the building because I couldn't read which floor it was on.  Also, the building was eerily empty so I had to continue the search elsewhere. 

Swirly barber pole means a barber is in the building

Knowing that I would have to actually speak to the barber, I studied some of the words and phrases I thought I would need: 이발 (hair cut), 간단한 머리 자르기를 원합니다 (I want a simple hair cut), 얼마예요? (How much is it?). Unfortunately, this language is still too advanced for me and I knew I wouldn't be able to pull it off in real-time, under pressure in the barbershop.

Thankfully, a teacher at the school was willing to provide some help. Together, we strolled around the neighbourhood looking for an affordable barber (her criteria) who wouldn't be freaked out by western hair (my criteria). We found a few promising places and I vowed to have my haircut by the time I returned to school on Monday morning.

Saturday was the big day. I woke up early in the morning and got ready to set out. Unexpectedly, my doorbell rang. It never rings. Two workers were standing there with a bunch of tools. Seeing that a foreigner lived here, the worker simply said, "excuse me" and started to enter. Before taking another step, he said, "shoes?". I correctly guessed that he was asking permission to come in without taking off his work boots. I waved him in and watched in my boxers while he and his partner pulled out all of my light fixtures and outlets, fiddled with the breaker box, ran some wires through the ceiling, and installed this oddly placed electrical outlet in the ceiling of my shower, which I definitely cannot reach nor understand.

My unexpected guests reassembled my apartment, swept the floor, and departed with a slight bow and a "thank you."

To the barbershop!

The plan, which I executed perfectly, was to point to my hair, make scissors with my fingers, and hope for the best. I was greeted by two women sitting at a table, eating their lunch. The first woman gestured me towards the barber chair, and then pointed towards her food and said something I didn't understand, "한국어 한국어 한국어". Thinking she was offering me food, I said, "uh, no thanks. I don't want any food. Just the haircut." I sat down in the chair but immediately realized my error. They weren't offering me food. They just wanted to finish their lunch before cutting my hair! Cringing, I awkwardly waited for 15 minutes until lunch was over.

The haircut went well. I showed a picture of myself on my phone. She shouted over to her friend, "한국어 한국어 한국어" and then began cutting. Not another word was spoken until she finished and said, "Shampoo?" I paid the 10,000₩ and was out the door with a pretty nice hair cut. She even trimmed my sideburns into a stylish point.

Trimmed and clean and ready for the next adventure.

Desk Warming in the Time of Coronavirus

I'm told that when the school year begins, whenever that may be, my work hours will be from 8:30am - 4:30pm, Monday through Friday.  This consists of 22 hours of teaching per week, plus lesson preparation and other duties.  Although, in the time of coronavirus, school life is a little more casual. Without classes to teach, I've been asked to arrive at school sometime around 9am and leave at 4:30pm. Quietly slipping out for a two-hour lunch is the unspoken norm.

I'm trying to get a head start on my lesson planning for the year, but a lot of it is guesswork because I haven't met several of the Korean-English teachers I will be working with. I don't really know what I'm doing so it's slow going, but I've managed to put a few lessons together.  I just hope the students, if I ever meet them, enjoy the lessons.

My desk in the faculty office.

Desk warming, as it's known around here, is the requirement to report to the office during school closures, holidays, or otherwise when there are no classes. Apparently, it's in the contract that I need to be at the school for 40 hours per week, no matter what, even when the students stay home because of a global pandemic.  I have the option to use some of my vacation days, but I was hoping to save those for a trip this summer. When you're a teacher without students it feels like your only purpose for being at work is to warm the desk and chair with the body heat emitted from your backside.

I'm managing to stay productive enough to make coming to school worthwhile, but it can be very tiresome. Most of the full-time teachers are away, so the office is terribly quiet. Other teachers may come in for a day, then I won't see them for a week or more. One day, I watched a teacher quietly fall asleep in her chair.

As fun as planning middle school lessons is, every once in a while I need to do something to break the drudgery. Water, coffee, and tea are freely available in the faculty office. On special days, someone may bring in snacks. Yesterday I ate a bunch of puffed corn. The day before, a teacher supplied nougat icecream.

I spend a fair amount of my time wandering around the school to stretch my legs and get my bearings. Even though there are CCTV cameras throughout the school and the vice-principal could be watching my every move, I am enjoying the quiet hallways and the student artwork. I suppose at this early stage I can still use the excuse of being "lost" if anyone wondered why I was neglecting my desk warming.

The clear highlight of this school is the incredible view of the port from the upper-floor windows.

If I become sufficiently bored, I'll take a walk around the school grounds and share some photos.  I should have plenty of time. Desk warming continues until April 6th, at least.

One Month Update

Apart from a few care-free days upon first arriving, coronavirus has dominated my first month in South Korea. Schools remain closed and rumours swirl that the closure will continue beyond March 23rd. Over 130 countries maintain various bans, restrictions, or quarantine measures for travellers from South Korea generally or from Daegu city and North Gyeongsang province in particular.

I'm in an awkward immigration position at the moment, having moved to Korea, but not yet received my Alien Registration Card, which is required for various services, including health care and banking privileges.  Also, until I receive the Alien Registration Card, I cannot leave Korea without voiding my work visa. Once the card is issued, I will be able to leave and return to the country freely throughout the year.

Face masks are being rationed in Korea and people are permitted to buy only two per week. The last digit of your birth year determines which day you can line up at the pharmacy to purchase your masks. I'm told that the wait on the first day was over 1.5 hours, and those at the end of the line walked away empty-handed. The masks sold out.  Foreigners are permitted to participate in this face mask buying system if they are registered in the insurance plan, which I won't be until my Alien Registration Card is issued. Thankfully, I have a small supply of masks that should last for a while.

The coronavirus has put a damper on some of my personal goals in Korea. I want to study Korean, exercise, explore the country and have some fun. For now, language schools and learning centres are closed, as well as most gyms.  Travel is still inadvisable.  I have been walking a lot, and there's and track and outdoor workout centre near my home. Korean language self-study is possible but slow going. I've have made some progress in learning the alphabet. I go to the same cafe twice per week and order the same drink each time, but it seems to be getting more challenging. The staff are using more and more Korean with me. Tonight, I just had to laugh and say I don't understand.

At school, things are quiet without the students and a mostly-empty staff room.  When I learned that the previous English teacher had left me a year's worth of lesson plans and PowerPoint presentations, I was ecstatic. I thought I was set for the year. Unfortunately, I've been assigned to teach different sections of the textbook, so I'll have to plan all of my own lessons. It takes me a long time to make lesson plans and PowerPoint presentations because my school computer is all in Korean. Thankfully, I was given the online textbook which has a lot of resources, so I think I'll manage okay. Still, it's difficult to plan lessons without ever having met the students. I haven't met all the teachers I'll be working with either. I wear a surgical mask all day in the teacher's room and record my temperature in the teacher's log.

Life at home is comfortable, but I'm still confused about the trash and recycling system. I managed to buy some "registered" trash bags for food waste, but don't yet know how to properly dispose of my plastic or paper. I don't want to risk a fine or anger my neighbours.

Registered food waste bag

I could've never predicted my first month in South Korea would turn out this way. There is still a lot of uncertainty and trepidation about the future, and events worldwide. Yet, I'm grateful for the slow start and a chance to ease into life here. 

Surviving without Language

Time to live dangerously, break out of the safety of my apartment, and visit a nearby convenience store. Pretty simple, right? Walk in, grab a few items and place them on the counter. Look for the total owed on the cash register. Pay and walk out. No problem. This is universal, right? Okay, here goes.

I slowly wander up and down the aisles of the store. Is that shrimp flavoured potato chips? Will this tea taste like dirt? Then the clerk says something, "한국어 한국어 한국어?". Oh, um, he's probably asking if I need help. Right. I'll give him the double hand wave. Phew! Good. That seemed to work. Crisis averted.

Okay, sports drink, chips, and choco-pretzels in hand, I place everything on the counter.  I'll throw in the only Korean word I know, "Annyeong-haseyo! (hello)".  Haha. Nailed it! The clerk rings it up, and I find the cash in my wallet... "한국어 한국어 한국어?"  Ahh, what? Uh... bag, maybe? Yeah, he wants to know if I want a bag...probably? A quick head nod with an "mmm", and boom! Snacks in a bag and I'm walking out the door. Mission accomplished! Social interaction navigated like a boss.

As you can see, I'm managing to feed myself in Korea. I find that if you just go with the flow of the interaction and keep it simple, you get your food and things usually work out well.  Until they don't.

Me:  Green tea latte, please.
Barista: 한국어 한국어 한국어?
Me:  Oh, ahh, for here, please.
Barista: I asked if you had a points card.
Me:  Ah. Sorry, no. 😵

Moving around the city isn't too bad either.  The subway stations are labelled in Korean and English, and announcements for the upcoming stops are in both languages. I bought a pre-paid transit card that you tap-on and tap-off for any subway or bus and the correct amount is automatically deducted. Your fare and new balance shows up on the display. You don't have to worry about buying a ticket for each trip or calculating the fare.  On my first solo trip on the subway in Busan, I made it to Dadaepo Beach without incident. I had a lovely time, but on my way home when trying to exit the station, I tapped my card and the display turned red and an angry message sounded "한국어 한국어 한국어!!!". Startled, I backed away. Then I tried it again...  "한국어 한국어 한국어!!!" So I just tentatively pushed through the gate, it opened and I was free.  Did I just break the law? Break the subway? Thankfully no one was around to witness the debacle. Coronavirus has thinned the crowds as some people opt to stay home.

At school, things are going well. Two of the Korean-English teachers speak English very well and there are others who are confident enough to try their broken English, which I greatly appreciate. Everyone else basically keeps their head down and avoids my eye contact. 

Even though very few teachers come into the office these days, it is still important to greet the vice-principal each morning as well as the teachers who sit nearby. My go-to Korean word "Annyeong-haseyo! (hello)" does the trick. People respond well, and I'm in the door.  As my first day was ending, I started to worry.  "Hello" probably wouldn't work as I was leaving for the day. I listened carefully to what the other teachers were saying, "한국어 한국어 한국어", but it was inaudible. The words were just too fast. Feeling trapped, I spent the next 20 minutes on the internet searching for the correct Korean phrase to say when leaving the office. There were a couple options, but the one I thought I could handle was "Annyeong-hi geseyo!"  I practiced saying it a few times quietly at my desk. So, for my grand exit, I moved to the centre of the room, in front of the vice-principal, and awkwardly mumbled "Annyeong-hi geseyo..." And I walked out the door. God, I hope it means what I think it means.

I need to learn Korean.

EPIK Teacher

So, how does one become a teacher in South Korea?  I am here as part of the English Program in Korea (EPIK), which is a government program that recruits native speakers of English and places them as teachers in various Municipal and Provincial Boards of Education.

To be eligible for the EPIK program, candidates must be from one of the following seven countries: Canada, USA, United Kingdom, Ireland, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand, be in good mental and physical health, have a strong command of the English language, and be willing and able to adapt to life in Korea.  A criminal record check is required.  Candidates must have a bachelor's degree (in any subject) and complete a Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) certificate.  Teaching experience is not required but is advantageous.  Most of the EPIK teachers that I met at orientation were not licenced teachers. Some, like myself, had teaching experience, while for others, EPIK was their first job after graduation.

The application process is tedious and long. Submission of the application takes place months in advance, followed by a Skype interview. Then you wait. And wait. And wait. And months later, when you are just about to give up, you receive an email of congratulations explaining that you have been accepted into the EPIK program!  You then scramble to secure your work visa from the Korean consulate, buy your plane ticket, and pack your bags.

Middle school

The contract with the Board of Education is for one year, with the possibility of renewal upon mutual agreement. Transferring to a different school, city, or Board of Education is possible after one year.  In addition to a nice local salary, EPIK offers free accommodation, entrance and exit allowances to cover the cost of airfare, settlement allowance, national medical coverage, pension, and severance pay at the end of the contract.  Twenty-six vacation days can be used at certain times of the year in order to limit interference with the school schedule.

A feature of the EPIK program is having a local Korean teacher assigned to help you with day-to-day life, such as setting up a bank account, getting a telephone plan, and navigating the school system. My teacher has gone above and beyond all of that by ensuring that my apartment was clean and stocked with the essentials, taking me shopping for bedding and groceries, gifting me fresh towels, demonstrating how to operate my Korean washing machine and microwave, and explaining the complex system of waste disposal and recycling.

Personally, I was attracted to the relative security of the EPIK program as it carries the legitimacy of a government program and avoids private companies that can sometimes be unscrupulous in the ESL industry.  I wanted to teach in the public school system and work standard hours.  Additionally, EPIK attempts to place you in your preferred location in Korea, and there are plenty of placements in major cities such as Seoul and Busan. 

Updates to follow throughout the year on whether or not the EPIK program lives up to its name.

The Coronavirus (COVID-19)

During orientation, the coronavirus seemed far off and abstract, even something to joke about. It was happening in a different world. When orientation concluded, we entered the real world where coronavirus was a real problem.  Now in our new homes across South Korea, Busan in my case, the school year was put on hold.  All the teachers at my orientation, as a precaution, were asked to self-quarantine in our apartments for one week.  It was made clear that if any of the 350 new teachers at orientation developed symptoms during the isolation, everyone would need to extend their quarantine.  Equipped with face masks, hand sanitizer, and my very own ear thermometer, I was instructed to stay home as much as possible, avoid crowds, and call the hotline if I got sick.

When I landed in South Korea on February 17th there were only 30 confirmed cases of coronavirus.  Hardly a significant number in a country of 51 million people.  But at the time of writing this, there are now over 7,000 known cases and 49 deaths.

But how did this happen? And so suddenly?  Let me tell you about patient #31, the super-spreader.  A sixty-one-year-old woman had developed symptoms, but having no recent travel history or known exposure to anyone with coronavirus, allegedly attended religious services at the secretive Christian sect, Sincheonji Church of Jesus in Daegu.  Roughly 60% of all cases in South Korea stem from that group. The KoreaHerald reported that patient #31 initially refused to be tested for coronavirus because she did not believe she was infected, but her symptoms worsened and she eventually relented.  Even more troubling is that the group has been accused of being uncooperative with authorities in locating their members for testing.  The leader of the sect, Lee Man-Hee, who's followers believe him to be the literal second coming of Christ, went on national television to apologize and pledge co-operation in combating the virus.  Investigations into the group and lawsuits are pending.

Meanwhile, in Busan, there are currently 95 known cases and the school year has been postponed for an additional two weeks. My self-isolation is over, but exploring the city is unadvisable. But for many, life seems to be going on as usual. There are people at the park enjoying the sun and breathing fresh air, albeit, air filtered through medical face masks.

It's fascinating to watch the response to the coronavirus by Korea as an outsider.  Sincheonji and a few early missteps by the government aside, it seems that the whole country has mobilized to combat the coronavirus. Tens of thousands of people have been tested, resources are being made available, and information is flowing freely.

For the next two weeks, I will report to a virtually empty school to plan my lessons for the school year that I hope won't be further postponed. While the news isn't good, I remain optimistic and positive, yet careful.

Orientation

Nervous and confused foreigners gather with their wheeled luggage at one end of Incheon airport awaiting instructions from our coordinators about boarding shuttle buses and being transported to the orientation site, some 90 minutes away in Hwaseong. Everyone looks tired, anxious, but ready to start something special. The extroverts are making friends. I'm stocking up on snacks from the airport convenience store.

Orientation was held at an educational facility that consisted of a dormitory building and a lecture hall. Meals were served in the cafeteria, lattes available at the cafe, and everything else was found in the shop.  Simple and clean.  We were sorted into dorms based on when we arrived. One of my roommates-to-be was literally standing beside me when our room was assigned.  I roomed with a quiet, young Brit and a no-nonsense, South African. The middle bunk was all mine.

Orientation was a sort of boot camp for teachers new to Korea and its educational system.  Over the seven days, we had enjoyed and endured lessons on Korean history and culture, lesson planning. classroom management, afterschool programs, and sexual harassment awareness and prevention.  However, the first order of business was a medical check-up. These compulsory tests finalized the hiring process and ensured you were eligible for the working visa. Chrest x-ray for tuberculosis, blood and urinalysis to weed out those who enjoy weed, and the standard height, weight, hearing, vision, and blood pressure tests had us up at the crack of dawn in our pyjamas. Advance through the battery of tests and be rewarded with an egg sandwich, apple juice, and decaying banana.  The results came in at the end of the week. Everyone passed and no one had to go home. Hooray!

Orientation was when the cases of coronavirus (COVID-19) really started to take off in South Korea. At first, there were 100 cases in one day and everyone was surprised. Then it was 300, 400, 500 new cases each day.  We lost our privileges to wander the nearby streets with its now forbidden convenience stores, cafes, and bars.  Everything moving forward would be on-site.  Facemasks were now mandatory and twice-daily temperature checks were performed.  I didn't hear anyone talk about going home, but we did wonder about our time in lockdown being extended or the school year delayed. The most pessimistic amongst us predicted we would be sent home before we even got started.  The orientation agenda was adjusted, last minute, as some speakers were unable or unwilling to travel due to the outbreak.

Despite our worries about the future, we were insulated from the outside world. It didn't even feel like Korea, as we were surrounded by 350 other English-speaking westerners and only a handful of our Korean handlers. Friendships were made and contact information exchanged, as we again were sorted into our buses and spread out across the land to our respective cities, towns, and villages.  Very grateful that some of my new friends would also be living in Busan this year.

This video of highlights from orientation proves that the whole thing was actually kinda fun. Please enjoy:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IhLFJg37kho&feature=youtu.be&fbclid=IwAR0-5tssW9tlckeovOZg6OgmwUj_6FCrO7a7_zLNCRKc-WPztbB0GJ2trz8&app=desktop

First Impressions

Fourteen hours in the air without sleep or enough leg, hip, or shoulder room, and a mind sludged by jet-lag will colour any first impressions.  Still, Korea made an immediate impression on me. 

Seoul was incredibly cold when I landed on February 17th. I managed to find my way through customs and immigration, connect to the airport wifi, and find out where I needed to catch my free shuttle-bus to my hotel. Standing outside, alone, waiting for the bus, I realized that I made a terrible mistake. I didn't pack my winter coat, and my fleece jacket wasn't going to cut it in sub-zero weather.

I decided to arrive in Korea a few days before my orientation to adjust to the time-zone change, and do some sightseeing.  I stayed in Incheon near the airport because I would need to return to the airport in a few days to meet my coordinators and be shuffled off to orientation.  Despite how convenient, comfortable and modern the Best Western Premier was, it was no match for jet-lag that results from the 14-hour time zone difference between Seoul and Toronto.  I was incredibly tired, but couldn't fall asleep until about 12:00 am and, of course, I was wide-awake at 4:00 am.  I would wake up groggy and confused at 4 am for the next week at least.

What to do at 4am?  Well, there was some complimentary tea in the hotel room with an electric kettle. I made what I thought was green tea and took a sip.

sample

Turns out, this is a popular flavour of tea in Korea. It's not green tea, exactly, and one sip was plenty. I scrambled to see if this actually was tea. Had it expired? In my early morning stupor, could I have accidentally put a bag of dirt into a mug? 

I fired up my trusty Google Translate app and learned that this tea, called hyeonmi-nokcha in Korean, is actually a mix of green tea and brown rice flavour. Okay! Fair enough. This is going to be an interesting year. Several days later I would mistakenly buy a 50 pack of this tea, believing again that it was green tea. Let's blame that on the jet-lag too.

After a bumpy start, I managed to navigate my way through the stations and the trains to meet my friend and do some sightseeing around Seoul.  As a city, Seoul is expansive and dense, but incredibly organized. I felt out of place at first, but Seoul is comfortable with visitors and most of the people I interacted with spoke to me in English before I had to worry about using charades to order a meal. 

The days eventually warmed up to spring temperatures. All in all, not a bad few days...

The Decision: Korea

The typical person who comes to Korea to teach English is twenty-something, fresh out of university or with a few years of work experience. Many have never taught before. Few have specialized in Korean studies, and even fewer have fluency in the Korean language. Living in Korea is often a one-year sojourn to teach, travel, explore, have fun, pay-off student loans, and generally delay the inevitable career once returning to their home.

I'm here a decade (or two) later than the average wannabe English teacher.  I was in the middle of a rewarding career, doing something that was meaningful, and I was good at it. While working with people is never easy, over time my work became repetitive. This is what brings me to Korea - the challenge. I am here because it is difficult. But through adversity, hopefully, will come personal growth and opportunities that would not have existed in my comfortable routine.

While I have some experience in a classroom, I am not exactly comfortable teaching nor do I have a confident grasp of English grammar. I can't speak, read, write, or understand Korean in any way whatsoever. I am alone in a foreign land and I don't know what I'm doing.

But that's okay! Being in a classroom of English learners is fun. Exploring a new country is thrilling. Making new friends and building a new life is exciting. And growing as a person is why I came here.