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.