Students Return to School

After three months of delays, my middle school is now open for students. This week the Grade 3s had the school to themselves. The 1st and 2nd graders will continue with their online classes for another week or so, after which our school will be full.

I was apprehensive about the school opening on two points. First, will safety procedures be enforced to ensure that students and teachers are safe and the spread of COVID-19 is minimized? Second, will I be prepared to conduct lessons?

Several new rules and procedures were put into place but very little of it was explained to me until that last minute. I did my best to find out information on my own, and piece together what I could. The high-tech first defence employed at our school is walk through temperature scanners at the door. Students and teachers have their temperatures read before entering the school. If your temperature is too high then I presume you will be pulled aside and not permitted to attend school that day. So far I have been well within the acceptable range.

There are secondary temperature checks before lunch, hand sanitizer is well placed throughout the school, and everyone wears masks in the classrooms. Students are supposed to keep their distance throughout the day. Desks are spread out in the classroom, and students nor teachers are permitted to sit together in the cafeteria. One person per table is strictly enforced. There are posters throughout the school reminding students of the required safe distance from others.

Perhaps the biggest imposition on me personally is that students must stay in their desks throughout the lesson. This is especially burdensome in an English language class where pair and group work are important learning methods, and moving around the classroom is essential to facilitate conversation. I need to find creative ways to engage the students, without having them leave their desks.

I think these safety precautions and classroom restrictions are totally pointless. As soon as the bell rings, the students run out into the hallway and are within close proximity to each other. I saw boys roughhousing, arm-wrestling, running and chasing, and doing all the things you'd expect of middle school boys. The girls walk arm in arm and squish their faces together to make cute little poses. Some students remove their masks in the classroom until they are caught and corrected by the teacher. I am resigned to the fact that if any student has the coronavirus, it will quickly spread throughout the whole school population.

As for teaching, I couldn't sleep the night before my first lesson. I didn't know what classes would be like, and I was still unclear about some of the simple details like, should I bring my own utensils for lunch? And, what would the co-teacher actually do in the classroom? Importantly, I didn't know if my lessons were level-appropriate for my students. As you know, I had to plan all of these lessons without ever having met the students.

My first class was an utter disaster. Seriously. I went to the English room about 10 minutes early to set up the computer and TV. Just before I expected students to arrive, another teacher told me she needed the English room. This was very strange because I had a class scheduled there in a matter of minutes. Suddenly my co-teacher ran into the room and explained that lessons will not take place in the English room as previously planned but in the students' homeroom classroom.
This last-minute change had me frazzled from the beginning.

I arrived in the proper classroom and couldn't figure out how to hook up the laptop to the HDMI TV. The co-teacher didn't know either and went to find the technician. I was left fiddling with the computer and TV for a while, wondering whether or not to proceed with the lesson without any visuals. The class started nearly 10 minutes late and my lesson plan was shot to hell. When you lose 10 minutes of a 40 minute class period, it's hard to get back on track.

Students were quiet and non-participatory. So much awkward silence. No one volunteered to speak or answer any of my questions. With the face masks, I couldn't read their faces to know if they were understanding me, interested or confused. The co-teacher, trying to console me, said "it was the students first day back from online lessons, so they were not motivated." Defeated and demoralized, the class ended. It can only get better from here, right?

My next class was marginally better, but still seriously problematic. At least I was able to hook up the HDMI TV without issue, so this gave me some extra time to mingle with the students before the class. I decided that I needed to give the students some incentive to participate, so I assigned each row as a team. Every time someone from that team answered a question, that team would earn a point. The team with the most points at the end of class won stickers from Canada. Some students participated, but for many others, the stickers had no motivating effect.

I ended up running out of time in the lesson. I wasn't aware until my co-teacher informed me with about five minutes left, as I was scrambling to complete as much of the lesson as I could, that we had to stop the lesson early to take each student's temperature before lunch. I was about halfway through the lesson. It was a somewhat depressing but important lesson for me because it seems it doesn't matter how much of my lesson I complete. In fact, it doesn't seem like my lessons matter at all.

It was finally time for school lunch. The food wasn't great this week, and I had to eat while distancing from others, but it was a nice break from having entire classes of students awkwardly stare at me.

I had a few nice moments with the students, and mercifully, not all of my classes were terrible. A boy gave me a container of these UFO candies, which are sour little packets literally filled with pure sugar. The kid who gave the UFO candies now follows me around saying "UFO, UFO". I spend most of the day mainlining caffeine, eating sugar, and listening to upbeat music to get my energy up to face the wall of silence in my classroom. This is my fight song before I walk to class. 

The school is hosting 16 university students from Busan National University as part of their training to become teachers. Two teacher-trainees observed my class on Thursday morning and four attended my afternoon class. I didn't know they would be attending when I saw them walk into the back of the classroom. I had them introduce themselves to the class and asked that they help the students individually during the lesson. Students don't really understand me, so it was great to have all of these extra teachers in the room. For one lesson, between me and the co-teacher and the teacher-trainees, there were six teachers in the classroom. That was by far my best lesson of the week.

I had some momentum going at the end of Thursday and I thought things were improving after a very difficult start to my in-class teaching. I only had one class on Friday, but it was the last period of the afternoon. I guess the students, the boys especially, were pretty much done with it for the week so it was an incredibly difficult class. Even though I already taught this lesson once before, it was a struggle from start to finish. Many students were misbehaving and some were sleeping. Very few students took it seriously at all. The co-teacher did well in translating my instructions and controlling the class. It would have been even worse had she not been there.

I think I made a bad first impression with this class because I was encouraging them to sit down so we could start the lesson on time, but I must've misjudged the time because partway through the opening, the bell went off. I had started the class too early. Having stolen a few minutes of their break, the boys groaned and complained. What's worse, in two weeks I will have an open lesson with this particular class, and the principal and other teachers will observe. I picked the worst-behaved class to have visitors join us. Can't wait.

It was a crazy week and I only taught five lessons over three days. Next week, the Grade 2s will be at school, so I will teach ten lessons. This weekend I need to revise some of my lessons because what I did for online lessons will not work in the classroom. I hope things get better with time and I can better connect with the students.

Top 10 Surprises So Far

To commemorate living and teaching in South Korea for three months, I thought I would compile a list of my top surprises so far. Here they are in no particular order:

1. What's Yours is Mine 
I have a drawer in my desk at school that contains some office supplies, documents, and teaching materials. I lock my computer in it each night. My co-teacher goes into the drawer whenever she needs something, and no permission is sought. Another teacher plugged a USB drive into my work computer to download the previous teacher's materials for her own use. She also downloaded all of my files. I wouldn't say I'm upset by either of these examples. I'm just surprised at the communal nature of office life here. The teachers are collegial and help each other.

2. The 39-Year-Old Infant
Technically, by the Korean system of measuring age, I'm 41 years old, but that's not the point. Whatever age I am, I'm treated like an infant. It's nice, in a way, that I am well cared for, but the teaching staff here assume that I'm clueless about everything. I was once instructed on how to use the faucet, "You turn it this way for cold water and you turn it the other way for hot water." This is something that I can certainly accept because in some areas of life, like discerning the trash and recycling system, I am not a fully-functional adult. Some of my questions and concerns must sound comical to the Koreans.

3. PDA All Day
Compared to the Japanese, Koreans are a handsy people. There is a surprising amount of hand-holding and other public displays of affection between couples, including kissing. Even friends of the same gender will go arm in arm. Adults may hold hands with their grandparents while walking down the street. A teacher routinely grabs my arm and guides me across the street when we're walking together. It caught me off guard at first but it's nothing but a kind gesture.

4. Convenience Stores Aren't All That
While certainly convenient and widespread, the selection of ready-meals, fried foods, and sweet treats is definitely lacking behind their Japanese counterparts. In Japan, it's common to have a favourite among the chain of convenience stores and look forward to their particular offerings. I would often pick up delicious meals, rice balls or other treats at the Lawson's or FamilyMart in Japan. The food was always fresh and delicious. From what I've seen so far, there aren't many meals available, and hardly any fried food at the convenience stores here in Korea. I'm disappointed in my local 7-11, CU, and GS25 shops.

5. English in Korea
What Korea lacks in convenience foods, they more than make up for in English speaking proficiency. At least here in Busan, I am surviving and thriving without knowing Korean. Of course, not everyone is fluent in English, but most people I interact with are willing to give English a try, and more times than not they can communicate well enough to get the job done. I even had some nice small talk with the barista at the coffee shop today. And when staff at a shop or restaurant help me in English, it is clear that they are joyed to have spoken English successfully with a native-speaker. Also, from what I've heard from some of my student's online homework assignments, their English is surprisingly clear.

6. No Choice but to Adapt
I'm not a tech-savvy person. In fact, probably the most technologically advanced thing I've ever done is write this online blog. When it comes to teaching, I would feel comfortable with chalk and a chalkboard, but the expectations here in Korea are to use technology. This became a necessity when lessons were shifted online. Lessons are to be presented in PowerPoint or through the digital textbook, and online lessons are recorded with software called BandiCam, which I had never heard of before. Of course, all of the software at the school is in Korean. This forced me to carefully study the computer software and learn it in a step by step way. My tech fluency has jumped here in Korea, and I wouldn't have thought that was likely.

7. Hands Up
I witnessed my first instance of corporal punishment at the school. Apparently this student was due for some "correction" so the teacher had him hold his arms straight up in the air while she "explained" why his behaviour was out of line. This occurred even before in-person classes began. I estimate the rascal had his arms in the air for 3+ minutes, but he seemed no worse for the wear after his lesson.

8. The Office: Korean Edition
I am pleasantly surprised to report that the faculty office at my school is a very jovial and friendly workspace. There seems to be a fair amount of conversation as well as laughing and joking. There have been occasional announcements celebrating people's accomplishments such as promotions, passing professional tests, and personal news. Snacks and treats are regularly brought in and shared amongst the staff, and the principal has splurged for steamed pork buns on several occasions. During this time when students are not at school, staff go out for lunch together and I'm sometimes included in that. And the biggest contrast from teaching in Japan is that most teachers actually go home at the end of the school day. Rather than stay at the school at all hours of the evening and night, I'd say 90% of the teachers are on their way home shortly after 4:30pm. Of course, this may change as classes start, but it is refreshing to see reasonable work expectations for teachers.

9. Co-Teaching for One
The Korean model for English education is to utilize two teachers in the classroom, a Korean teacher of English and a native English speaker. Ideally, this should be an equal partnership with each teacher sharing the duties in the classroom and collaborating on the lesson plans. Open communication is crucial to ensure that teachers are on the same page and the students get the full benefit of having two teachers in their classes. Up to now, I have been fully responsible for the online lessons and it seems like I will also run the in-class lessons. There has been no collaboration as of yet and very little communication. I have only exchanged about five sentences with one co-teacher in three months, and not much more with the other teachers. At my visit school, I haven't even met 4 of the 5 teachers. As a result, I don't feel prepared for when the students return to school. I like having primary responsibility for planning and teaching, even if I don't feel ready, but I'm not sure how my co-teachers will participate in the lessons. I have been surprised by the so-called "co-teaching" up to this point, and I'm poised for many more surprises as in-class lessons begin.

10. COVID-19
Without a doubt, the coronavirus has been the most disruptive and unpredictable feature of my short time in Korea. Any conception I had of life in Korea before I arrived was certainly altered with the outbreak and the global pandemic. I was scheduled to start teaching on March 2nd but as of this writing in late-May, I have not taught a single class. Life has been novel but restricted. There have been so many ups and downs in such a short time, and I don't know if there are further disruptions to come. It has been a strange time to start a new job in Korea. Procedures and practices that the school had operated under for years have changed, and while I would like more support and explanation, it is difficult because everything has been upended for the Koreans themselves. They are figuring things out each day, as am I.

The first three months are behind me. What new surprises await in the upcoming months? We shall see.

The Incredibly Bothersome Lightbulb

Certainly, on the face of it, a story about a burnt-out lightbulb isn't all that entertaining. It does, however, in my opinion, represent the struggle expatriates experience while living in a foreign country, especially those with limited language abilities. A burnt-out lightbulb can break a man.

When routine life is holding and everything is comfortable, it almost feels like you belong here, or that life is manageable or even easy. But the second that lightbulb sparked out I was immediately hit with the realization that this was going to disrupt my routine. You see, the one-room apartment is my sanctuary against all the strangeness and confusion outside of my door. In my apartment, I don't have to worry about the Korean language, or getting stared at, or being baffled by the food I receive at a restaurant. I don't even need to think about my school, the ridiculousness of working in an office as the only non-Korean speaker. And most of all, I can put the corona-virus out of my mind for a few hours, from the safety of my home.

I have four lights in my apartment; a light in the bathroom, one above the living quarters, a third above the kitchen sink, and a light above the entranceway, which is on a motion sensor. When I lose a light, it makes a difference. So, no matter how good I am at ignoring a problem, and I am really good at that, I could not ignore that burnt-out lightbulb, as much as I tried. Ten months until the end of my contract. I would need to deal with this, or live in a dark world.

Without a doubt, the incredibly bothersome lightbulb was a multi-day, multi-person project. But before I get into all that, let me tell you about my initial thoughts. Does the landlord replace the lightbulbs? Where can I buy a lightbulb? What kind of lightbulb is this? I've never seen one like this. How do I throw out or recycle the old lightbulb without getting fined or pissing off my neighbours?

I consulted with my co-teacher about the lightbulb. Something that would be solved so quickly back home requires a consultation here. How many world travellers does it take to change a lightbulb?

My co-teacher called the building office about the problem and learned that the landlord does not, in fact, have responsibility for changing lightbulbs. That task falls on each tenant, even if they are an incompetent foreigner. The tiny hope that someone else would solve this now faded away.

I took numerous photos of the lightbulb and socket and sent them to my co-teacher so we knew what we were dealing with. Further consultation with my co-teacher led to a solo mission for a new lightbulb at the dollar store, Daiso. I picked up any number of cheap household items at Daiso in Japan, and had already been to Daiso a few times in Korea. Buy a lightbulb? Yes, I can do that.

But before the solo mission, of course, we needed to send in the reconnaissance team. My co-teacher when to Daiso first, priced the lightbulb and took some pictures. I had my target. Why didn't she just buy the lightbulb while she was there?

I wandered about Daiso for 20 minutes before I had any clue where they kept the lightbulbs. It's not a big store. Even with my photos, it was a challenge. I had brought my old lightbulb on the advice of my co-teacher. I was to hand the bulb to a staff member and they would take care of the rest. Overkill, I thought. I can track down a lightbulb in a dollar store. I'm at least capable of that. I found the lightbulb shelf tucked away in the back of the store. They only had like four different kinds of lightbulbs for sale. Still, I was only 80% sure that I picked the correct one. Feeling adventurous, and also not wanting to have an awkward conversation with a staff member, I bought the bulb without seeking assistance in the store.

The moment of truth, part one. I came home from the store thinking this mission is finally over. Standing precariously on my chair, I plug in the light. Climbed down and flipped the light switch. Let there be light. No. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Expecting news of our glorious success, first thing the next morning I disappointed my co-teacher with word of our failure. The annoying lightbulb has become incredibly bothersome.

Koreans are nothing if not systematic. I was sent back to Daiso to test the lightbulb. Apparently, in the lighting section, there is an outlet to test your lightbulbs before purchase, and I assume, after purchase, as what was necessary in my case.

Naturally, I couldn't just go back to Daiso myself to test the lightbulb. My co-teacher called in advance to verify that customers can test lightbulbs there, and she also gave them a polite heads up that a "foreigner" would be coming to their store with a lightbulb. Daiso said that they would be ready. I suppose there are some English teachers in Korea that don't have this kind of support. I wonder how they manage their home lighting needs?

Before I entered the store, I typed "test this lightbulb" into the Google translate app on my phone. I showed the Korean translation to the staff, and they walked me to the lightbulb section, "Please follow me", she said in English. Moment of truth, part two. She plugged in the bulb, and it lit up like..., like..., like... a lightbulb.

It was clear that there was something beyond the bulb at issue, so my co-teacher recruited another person to help. How many people does it take to change a lightbulb in Korea?

Our school has a handyman whom I often see in the halls. I always say Anneyong-haseyo (good morning) and he always replies NNNNEEEEEEEEE. I think that means "yes" or something like that. One afternoon, the three of us - handyman, co-teacher, and myself - walk over to my apartment. Basically, he just plugged in the lightbulb to see if it worked, and to see if I'm an idiot. Moment of truth, part three. No, the lightbulb didn't work for him either. The case needed to be replaced and rewired. He would have to buy a part and try again later.

Later that week, my co-teacher said we will all return to my apartment that afternoon to fix the light. The day came and went, as did the next day, without a word from my co-teacher about the light. I had no idea what was going on. Why the delay? Why the silence?

One day sometime later, I received an online message from my co-teacher, which is weird in itself because we sit next to each other, saying something to the effect of "Strictly speaking, it's not the handyman's job to fix your light. Usually, Korean people do their own repairs, but since you are a foreigner, the school will buy the supplies and he will do it for you. You should buy a bottle of orange juice or some drink to give to him. It will show that you are warm-hearted."

Now, I was left wondering, had they not fixed my light all these days because I wasn't grateful enough? Was I inconveniencing the handyman? All these thoughts in my head because I couldn't understand what was going on or what anyone was saying. I was exasperated.

One afternoon, randomly, I was told that the handyman will fix the light now. We rush over to the apartment and I was sure to show as much gratitude as possible in both English and Korean "Kamsahamnida" (thank you!). The handyman took a few minutes to fix the light. It worked! I offered him the drink, and he refused, "No."  "No?"  "No."  "Ok". My co-teacher cut in to explain that it was a gift because I was thankful for his help. He accepted the drink, and once again I had light in my apartment.

What did I learn from all of this? That nothing is easy as a foreigner in Korea, especially if you can't speak the language. The smallest thing, which would be routine back home, is a stressful project that requires lots of help and patience. I'm thankful for the people who take an interest in my well-being. Stress is inevitable, especially when several of these small challenges come at the same time. With perseverance, you can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Taejongdae Park and Songdo Beach

Having taken the day off, Monday was a perfect chance to do some more sightseeing in Busan. The weather was warm and clear and the crowds were at work.

The first stop of the day was to see the cliffs of Taejongdae Park but to get there I would need to take a solo trip on the bus for my first time in Korea. I researched as much as I could, then boarded the bus for Taejongdae. I followed the route with the GSPs on my phone and was reasonably confident that I boarded the correct bus. At the end of the trip, I got a little confused about where I was and didn't realize we were at the last stop. I thought I had at least another stop to go. The bus driver yelled something, which I assume was "last stop" or "get off the bus". I dashed off the bus and forgot to tap my bus card. But I made it to Taejongdae Park; a somewhat successful first ride on the bus.

I arrived at the park at 9am and saw that there was a fun, little trolley that takes the tourists around the park. I decided to walk instead and climbed the hills and the steps throughout the day. Taejongdae Park is a little natural oasis on the edge of the sea in an urban megacity.

Taejongdae is famous for the views of the sea and its impressive rock and cliff formations. Looking out to sea, I am always amazed at what a parking lot of ships there is around Busan.

Continuing on the circular route around Taejongdae, I came across an observatory. The building was closed due to the coronavirus, but great views were still plentiful outside.

The next stop on the path was the cliffs of Taejongdae and the famous lighthouse. I took some photos of the lighthouse, but it was also closed due to coronavirus. No matter, the highlight of the day was the cliffs. I spent a lot of time there just marvelling at the sea, the sounds, and the passing ships.

There is a rock in the shape of a person standing alone on the cliff. Legend says that a woman stood there waiting on the cliff for her husband to return after he was taken by invaders. She waited and waited but eventually turned into stone when he did not return.

Once I finished the loop at Taejongdae, it was time to travel to Songdo Beach. I was confused at the bus depot. Instead of finding the bus and boarding, all buses exited the depot and stopped at a single stop around the corner. When your bus approaches, hop on. I boarded Bus 30 bound for Songdo Beach remembering to tap on and, after nearly missing my stop, tap off this time.

Songdo Beach is very peculiar-looking. It has a cluttered view in my opinion. The sea is a parking lot for ocean liners, and closer to shore there are sea sculptures of whales and dolphins. There is a cable car strung across the horizon, and a skywalk off to one side. Still, it was nice to be at the beach in warm weather. I took some pictures and made my way over to stroll on the skywalk and then up the cable car.

The cable car lifts passengers across the bay and up onto the hill overlooking the ocean. There are two options for the cable car - standard car and a clear bottom. I opted to have a pleasant rather than terrifying ride, so I chose the standard cable car, costing 15,000₩ for a round-trip. Even though there was a queue for the cable car, the staff ensured that each party had their own car, which was nice. I rode up alone, giving me enough space to take a few selfies,

The mountain provided some beautiful views and several short hiking trails. Already exhausted, I did a short walk that featured unwanted stairs and a clear view of the sea. I emerged from the trail into a small dinosaur park. There were mechanical tyrannosauruses, stegosauruses, and many others, complete with sound effects 'Rawr!"

I took the cable car down to the beach and used my phone's GPS to find the nearest bus stop. After some fretting and lining up on the wrong side of the road, I found the bus headed for home. The GPS wasn't working properly at that point. I thought the journey would be about 90 minutes on the bus. But after about 30 minutes I saw that we were passing a subway stop, so I got off and boarded the train. I got home even quicker, so it pays to learn the subway system and the names of the stops as soon as possible. It was a stressful experience navigating the bus on my own for the first time, but I was successful and I have now seen many of the tourist highlights of Busan.

Climbing Jangsan Mountain

South Korea is a mountainous country and the natural scenery is gorgeous. When the air quality is good, getting out of the concrete jungle for a while is a nice change of pace. Climbing Jangsan Mountain (634 meters) is consistently listed as one of the top things to do in Busan, so I decided to give it a try.

Jangsan Mountain is located in the western part of Busan so, yet again, I needed to travel to the other end of the city for this adventure. I woke up early on Saturday morning and walked towards the subway in the warm air at 6:15 am. After a transfer and a trip to the end of the line, I arrived at Jangsan station at 8 am with my backpack, a few snacks, and some water. Jangsan Mountain was still another 20-minute walk from the station. I was told to walk straight towards the mountain, and that's what I did. At 8:30 am, I reached the park before the worst of the heat and the crowds. I looked over some of the maps and did my best to translate. I made a note of the Korean word for "peak" (정상). I noticed that there were three trails to the top: easy, moderate, and hard. I, of course, decided to try my luck with the beginner trail this first time.

Unfortunately, the trail markings were few and far between, and those that I saw were in Korean and confusing. I quickly lost sense of which trail I was on. I doubled back once but figured that as long as I'm moving up the mountain it will be fine. It was fine, but I soon found myself very alone on the trail. While definitely a proper trail, it certainly wasn't the "easy" trail I had intended to take. My new trail featured rough terrain, steeps, and few good places to stop for a rest. Still, I was having fun, enjoying the weather and making progress. I found a decent walking stick and carried on.

Eventually, and nearly exhausted, the trees open up to a landing that held, of all things, an outdoor gym with exercise machines and equipment. I saw a group of old people lifting weights and I thought, "how did you guys get up here?" I sat down and had a snack as I watched these octogenarian super-athletes lift their weights on the side of a hiking trail.

Back on the trail, and after climbing for about 2 hours, I finally saw a sign that pointed towards the peak, only 1 km farther. I reached the top, the ground flattened out, and I had a beautiful view of the surrounding scenery and green hills. Unfortunately, I also saw another peak just off to the side and slightly higher up. I was certain that I had gotten off the easy trail and ended up at this false peak. The other peak had a staircase and a lookout platform and several hikers were gathered there, so I knew that's where I needed to go. Somewhat dejected, I carried on for another 20 minutes or more until I reached the staircase of doom. Clearly, I was getting close to my goal, but propelling myself straight uphill was more than strenuous in my tired state.

Winded and leaning on the staircase while looking particularly tired and pathetic, several Korean hikers went by, and I'm sure they meant to offer some encouraging words with their smiles. Instead, what they actually said was, "I'm tired." Clearly, they meant I was tired, not them because they bounced up the stairs while I was dead tired.

The Korean hikers were generally friendly and helpful. I received many smiles, a few 'hellos', and other encouragements. I think there is camaraderie in the shared struggle of climbing a mountain that transcends language. I definitely connected better with people on that mountain than anywhere else in Korea, so far. I'm encouraged to take up hiking more regularly. Of course, I still got plenty of open-jawed stares along the way, but all in all, people were really nice on Jangsan Mountain.

Finally, I reached the top and I was rewarded with some excellent views of Haeundae and Gwangan Bridge. Thankfully, the air was relatively clear so I was able to take a few pictures. I rested in the amazing weather. My legs were jelly.

To be honest, I don't think I made it to the true summit. While the lookout was amazing with some picturesque views, I saw another trail leading up to an even higher peak. Some of the Koreans marched on, and one even encouraged me to keep going. I'd like to give it another try sometime, but I was too physically tired, and emotionally spent having thought that my climb was already over. There was no way I was going to climb any further.

I took a different path down the mountain that turned out to be much easier, and I'm not just talking about gravity. There was a craved out path with wooden planks, stairs, and rope supports. I think it was the "easy" trail that I wanted to take in the first place.  Hiking down the mountain took half as long.

I had my sandwich in the park at the bottom of the mountain and then took the long subway ride back to my home. I was conscious of my smell on the subway, surrounded by Koreans who hadn't struggled up and down a mountain for 3+ hours. I was too tired to care.

I went home and was clearly dehydrated. I showered, drank water, and rested. After I while I felt well enough to go out for a well-deserved dinner.  I was so hungry and maybe a little delirious because I was laughing and smiling at the table. The fried, battered pork and cheese was amazing!

Hiking in the 23°C Spring weather is ideal. It's already getting hotter than that in early May. I think it's going to be a scorching Summer here in Busan so I'm glad I was able to hike Jangsan Mountain before it got unbearably hot.

Two Beaches in a Day

Today is the first day of my six-day vacation in South Korea. Happy Birthday to the Buddha! Korea celebrates with a national holiday. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the opening of my middle school, so teachers get a day-off. Happy birthday, school!  Saturday and Sunday are free, of course. Monday is a regular workday, but I used one of my vacation days to extend the holiday because Tuesday is another national holiday, Children's Day. Horray for children!

About a week ago, I proposed to my co-teacher that I would like to take this Monday off, so I would have a six-day holiday.  "Yes. Great idea. Won't be a problem."

When I mentioned the extra day off again, my co-teacher had apparently forgotten our conversation. "Monday is a school day. You have to come to school!" Dreams of a six-day holiday began to fade, but a gentle reminder of our previous conversation and we were back on the same page. There was one last intended or unintended guilt trip, "So every other teacher will come to school on Monday, except you. Is that what you want?"  "Uh, yeah", I replied.

The final hoop to jump through to secure my holiday was to ask for signatures from the headteacher and vice-principal. They both signed willingly and made some friendly smiles and comments in Korean. If I could guess what they said, I think it was something like, "Ah yes, only foreigner teachers would take a school day off. Must be nice." Anyway, I got the approval for my holiday without depriving my students of anything. I submitted my online lessons well in advance.

One of the main reasons why I chose Busan as my city in South Korea was because of its amazing beaches. Haeundae Beach and Gwangalli Beach are the two most famous beaches, but quite far from my apartment. It took me 90 minutes by subway to reach Haeundae Beach, on the opposite side of the city. You're notified of the approaching Haeundae Station with sounds of seagulls played over the subway speaker, and the stop is announced in several extra languages including English, Japanese, and Chinese. Haeundae beach is a major tourist draw for Korean and international travellers.

Haeundae Beach

Haeundae Beach

Haeundae Beach

Haeundae Beach

Haeundae beach is a spectacular sight, surrounded by large hotels, restaurants, and development. I'm sure this place gets absolutely packed in the summer. I arrived in the morning and more and more people appeared as I walked up and down the beach. Of course, no one is permitted in the water now as the swim season is only in the summer.

There were lots of people enjoying the beautiful weather. Most everyone took the precaution of wearing a face mask, even on the beach. There weren't any new cases of COVID-19 in Korea yesterday, so I think this put people in good spirits.

I found a Korean restaurant that served traditional dishes for lunch.  I tried the bibim-milmyeon, which is a bunch of noodles drenched in hot, hot sauce. I cut the noodles with the scissors and then I mixed everything into the sauce. The meal cost a very reasonable 5,500₩.

After lunch, I took the subway over to Gwangalli Beach, Busan's other top beach. Again, I was struck by the size of the hotels surrounding the beach. There were plenty of people walking around, and the beautiful Gwangandaegyo Bridge (aka Diamond Bridge) was a sight to behold. I heard that the bridge is lit up at night, so I'll have to make a return trip one evening.

Gwangalli Beach

Gwangalli Beach

Gwangalli Beach

This has been a wonderful start to my vacation and I'm happy there are amazing things to see and do right here in Busan. I enjoyed the fantastic weather, 20°C and sunny all day. According to my Fitbit, I walked over 13kms today at the two beaches. Not sure what I'll do with the rest of the holiday to top this.