Absurd Days

I've been settling into a routine over the past few weeks. My world is small. I spend the workday at my desk at school, my free time at home. Now and then, I go to the grocery store to replenish supplies or relax in a cafe. With the coronavirus and social distancing, I don't feel hurried to explore outside of my routine. I can take things slow and gradually acclimatize to life in Korea. It's comfortable, but every so often I am jolted into reality and reminded of how different things are here. This week, in particular, has been absurd.

There is an outdoor market near my apartment, held regularly every five days. Fresh vegetables, fruits, flowers, and fish are for sale. Plenty of street food, as well, although I haven't been brave enough to purchase anything yet. I was walking at the edge of a market when an old woman beckoned me toward her. She had a large bag full of food from the market. As I got closer, her eyes widened, and the woman realized her mistake, that I was a foreigner. Still, through gestures or telepathy, she communicated that she wanted help lifting and balancing the bag on her head so she could carry it away. I hoisted it upon her head and held it there. I didn't realize she was trying to go, and I kept holding it in place until said something unintelligible in Korean and she walked away.  A giant bag of food on her head and my first good deed in Korea.

With the announcement that classes will commence online, the faculty office has been busier than ever. Teachers have been reporting to work nearly every day, and the room is full of activity. Unfortunately, I was not informed that the hours of work had been changed. I was operating on the vacation schedule, but one day I walked into the faculty office and noticed it was completely full, which was incredibly odd for 9am. I said, "Good morning" and all heads swivelled in my direction. I sat down and the room was silent. My co-teacher then passed me a note which read, "The schedule has changed. All teachers must come to school by 8:30am. Don't be surprised."  But surprised I was. When trying to make a good impression as a new employee, I don't recommend being seen walking into work 30 minutes late.

The next day, and without warning, I was told that I was to introduce myself in front of the full faculty. Ah-ha. Right. Nervousness spiked. I got some last-second advice from my co-teacher who said to "keep it short and remember to mention that you're from Toronto. Korean teachers will know Toronto." Before I knew it, the vice-principal handed me that microphone, and I said "Annyeonghaseyo (good morning in Korean)" and everyone started clapping. Evidently, they were happy that I said a Korean word. I went on to tell them my name, that I wanted to be friends, and hoped that we could speak English together. I scurried back to my seat, thankful that my face was concealed by a facemask. I forgot to say I was from Toronto.

Online teaching is a big adjustment for the Korean teachers here, as they've never had to teach online. We were given about a week to get everything in order before the classes would start. Lessons will be uploaded for the students to view at home. This means technology. It also means being trained on the computer software. The language of the training? Korean, of course. Sitting through the 3-hour training workshop was definitely the worst three hours I've spent in Korea so far. The trainer was doing his presentation at a rapid speed. My computer wasn't working, not that it mattered much. I had no idea what was going on and I just stared on hopelessly and resigned to the absurd scene. Then, out of nowhere, the trainer stopped and said my name, "Derek". He evidently wanted an answer to something. Baffled and shocked, I just sat there gobsmacked for what seemed like an eternity, until another teacher whispered something in the trainer's ear. He moved on with is presentation, and I'm not entirely sure what he wanted from me.

The training was so intense, confusing, and foreign that after work I needed to decompress. I went to the nearest fast-food burger joint, called Lotteria, for something familiar. A big chicken burger, called the T-Rex, with fries and a Coke was exactly what I needed after such a bizarre day. Sitting in Lotteria, lost in thought, contemplating my situation and the enormity of being thousands of kilometres from home, in South Korea of all places, when an English song comes on the radio. I paid little attention to the song until a massive "f-bomb" was sung. Stunned, I looked around the restaurant, thinking, "Whoa, did anyone else hear that?" None of the other diners seemed interested in the lyrical profanity. I, alone, was caught off guard by the music. Just an instance of culture shock.

T-Rex chicken burger at Lotteria

I was back at school on Monday after that terribly confusing Friday afternoon computer software training session. Another shot of culture shock coming my way. While it's normal for people to brush their teeth after lunch at school, never in a million years would I have expected someone to stand at the next urinal while simultaneously urinating and brushing their teeth. I didn't stick around to ask questions. I washed my hands, left the room, and thought about contagion.

In other bathroom folly, I knew they existed but had never experienced one myself, until today. I'm referring to bathrooms that do not supply toilet paper in the stalls but instead offer a common roll posted in the washroom. You need to take what you need before you go into the stall. Obviously, I didn't realize it at the time and, therefore, had to shuffle out to grab some toilet paper. Live and learn. Won't make that mistake again. This unfortunate washroom is at my 'visit' middle school, so I'll need to remember this lesson each time I teach at that school.

Like I said, this week was absurd.