I haven’t posted in a few days. I didn’t think it was possible, but my life has taken even more bizarre turns. For the better? For the worse? I don’t know yet. Secret meetings with the owner of the school. I am now head teacher. A trip to Seoul where I think I rode every subway line in less than 24 hours. Homesickness. And I think I just lost one of my Korean friends. But I’m not really sure about any of this. My life now is shrouded in uncertainty. I never know if what I’m saying is what I’m intending. Or if what I’m hearing is the true meaning.

Secret Meetings

Wednesday night the owner of the school pulled me out of class (which *never* happens). “Lori-Ga, tomorrow. Lunch. Here. 12:30. Yes?” Okay. Sure. “Secret-a. No (and he put his fingers over his mouth).” Okay. See you tomorrow.

I arrived to school at 12:30 on Thursday, expecting to go to lunch with Chairman Kim and an interpreter, another Mr. Kim or Mr. Pyon. But instead I was ushered into his office. There was a lot of Korean, and only a little English. The first 10 minutes were “business.” They aren’t happy with the current head teacher. They want me to be head teacher. They will announce it on Monday. Okay, but why aren’t you happy with the current head teacher? What problems are there? I want to make sure that I don’t repeat them. “Monday. Talk-a Monday. Meeting 3:30.” Okay. What will my responsibilities as head teacher be? “Monday. Talk-a Monday.” Okay. “After this session (which ends at the end of the month) have-a 6 days work. Monday-Thursday, Tuesday-Friday, Wednesday-Saturday.” We need to talk about that. The original teachers were hired on a 5 day contract. They smiled, “Yes-a.” So, if you want them to work 6 days, you will need to write a new contract. “Schedule. 6 days classes. Monday-Thursday, Tuesday-Friday, Wednesday-Saturday.” I understand. But if you want them to work 6 days, you will need to compensate them. I do not think they will like this. Again, smiles, “Yes-a. You – problems with former head teacher, other teacher, ignore. Don’t worry. Tell us. We take care.”

I’m feeling a bit nervous. I think, under normal situations, I would do a good job. I have 7 years of teaching experience. I was a mentor teacher in San Francisco. I have experience as a leader. I have experience developing curriculum. I have experience developing tests. My people skills are pretty good. But for some reason, I’m apprehensive. Maybe because nothing has been defined?

The rest of the meeting (20 minutes) was spent asking about my personal life. Was I enjoying Korea? Had I made any Korean friends? Did I have a boyfriend? Then, the marriage talk. “Most Koreans your age, they are married. Parents want their girls married. Before 30. You? Why not married? You beautiful. You smart.” I was married. “Where you husband?” I was married. I am now divorced. “Ooohhhhhhhhh. How long married?” 6 years. “Children?” No. “Why not married?” I’ve never quite figured out how to answer this – to Koreans or to Americans who ask me this. Do you really want to know? Because if you do, it’s going to be more than 1 sentence. And, I’m not sure I want to go into that. You don’t need to know. So, I did what they do when asked a difficult question. I smiled and said Yes-a. And it worked. On to the next topic.

Seoul, 2nd Class

Friday was a holiday here. Tree Planting Day. Which meant no classes. Yeah. And since Thursday is my regular day off, that meant two consecutive days off (I work Saturdays and Sundays). I really wanted to go to Ullendo, a small island off the eastern coast. Wednesday morning Young walked with me to the travel agent. After many phone calls and lots of dialogue back and forth, I realized I wasn’t going to Ullendo. I’m not sure if the ferry didn’t run every day, or if the tickets were sold out, but it wasn’t going to happen. As we were walking back to the school, Young asked me to go to Seoul with him to visit his sister. I told him maybe. He told me he would leave Thursday after his university class. Okay. Okay, I’ll go with you. Would you like me to get tickets? No, no, no. I will do that.

I met Young downtown after his class on Thursday night.”Problem.” What? “No tickets for train.” What? We’re not going to Seoul? “Yes. Tickets for 11:30 pm.” Train? or bus? “Train. But only 9 pm now. Shopping?” No. I don’t want to shop (this was after my “no size-a” day). “Movie?” Sure. After the movie, we headed to the train station. Daegu Station. Which I had never been to before. I always leave from DongDaegu Station (East Daegu). When we entered, the marquis for departing trains only announced 2nd class trains. I looked at Young. What train are we on? He told me. Okay – this will be interesting. The price difference between first class and second class is minimal. But in reality the difference is huge. First class is like travelling in a plush LazyBoy recliner. With tvs, lots of leg room, very clean. Second class is not horrible. But, sitting in a non-reclining, hard, vinyl seat with less leg room than an airplane for four hours, well, let’s just say I’m a huge proponent of value add. And I generally will spend the money to be comfortable on a trip.

We arrived in Seoul at about 3:45 am. We wandered into the streets outside of Seoul Station. There were plenty of people milling around. People at the food booths, standing eating fish on a stick. People stumbling home after a drunken night of revelry. People hurrying to the train station. That’s one thing that I love about Korea. It’s definitely a night country. There is so much activity at night. Young and I discussed our situation. Even though in Seoul, his sister’s house was over an hour away by cab. Which would make us arrive there at about 5 am. The subway stops running from midnight to 6 am. Should we try to find a cab or just crash at a yog-wan for the night? Or hang out until 6 and take the subway there? Let’s crash now and head there tomorrow.

So, we walked a few blocks looking for a yog-wan. There weren’t any. Which is unusual. I seem to see them everywhere when I’m not looking for them. But isn’t that the way it always is. So we hailed a cab. Young asked the driver to take us to a yog-wan. He drove for a few blocks, turning down this street, turning down that one. He obviously didn’t know where one was. He was getting more and more perturbed. He finally stopped the cab and told us to get out. What? But, but… He wasn’t taking us any further. So, we got out. And started wandering again. Young complained he was hungry. He’s always hungry. I just looked at him. We were in the middle of nowhere. Where were we going to get food? Where were we going to sleep? After a few minutes we saw a C-Space, the Korean version of 7-11. We wandered in. Young got a couple of ramen and mandu and heated them in the microwave. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but all I could think was, “I am standing in a Korean convenience store at dawn eating instant ramen. I never would have imagined….” After our quick snack we found a yog-wan a few blocks away. Young complained that it looked old. Again, I just looked at him. Dude. We’ve been wandering for over an hour now. We’ve seen no yog-wans. Old or not, I’m tired. It’s almost 5 am. We got a couple of rooms. As I laid down to sleep I noticed something scurrying across the floor. I was too tired to even investigate.

The next day we traversed Seoul. Seoul is a big city. I think it has 10, maybe 11, subway lines. We did many things on Friday, ate at Young’s friend’s restaurant, went to Dongdaemun Market, ate dinner with Young’s sister and her husband, met friends for drinks, but what I remember most was the subway. Studying the map, making sure we were on the right line, heading the right direction. Transferring at this station. Running down the platform to catch the train before it sped away. Stashing our bags in lockers.

Friday night we met several of Young’s friends from Seoul at another’s friend’s restaurant. He had told me that these were friends he had attended English Institute with and that they all spoke English very well. I don’t expect Koreans to speak English to me. I realize I’m in Korea. I’m trying very hard to learn Korean. But it definitely helps when the person I’m speaking to knows a little English so I can supplement my elementary Korean. If Young’s friends did know English, they chose not to use it Friday night. I tried to follow along in the conversations, recognizing a word here, a word there, trying to string together the grammatical endings to make sense of the garble of sounds around me. Mostly, I sat there and smiled. Watched the interactions between the two men and three women. After a couple of hours we headed to a karaoke room. I sang along to a couple of the songs, but most were in Korean and I couldn’t follow the words quickly enough. After an hour or so, we all left.

In the cab, Young turned to me. “I’m sorry.” For what? “My friends. So arrogant. They know English. They just not speak.” No worries.

But it bothered me. Not that they wouldn’t speak to me. But that I just spent an entire evening in the company of 5 other people and maybe said 10 sentences the whole night. That’s not me. That’s not who I am. I then began to think of my friends back home. And how much I miss them. Young hit me on the shoulder. “What? Why you quiet?” Oh, I’m just thinking. I miss my friends. And at that point the tears slowly started rolling down my cheeks. I tried so hard to stop them. “Rori. Your friends. They good people. I see pictures. They be there.” I know. I know. And I had a good time tonight. I really did. Thank you for inviting me to Seoul. I just, I feel so, well, not like me. This isn’t who I am, Young. I don’t usually sit quietly and not speak. “My friend like you.” And I liked them. But, Young, I’m normally such a fun person. I like to talk to people. This feels strange to me.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. It was raining heavily. I watched the drops stream down the window, making paths here, tracks there. Young hit me again. What? “Lori….” I turned to him. “You cannot fall in love with me.” What???? Young is always joking with me, so I thought this was his attempt to cheer me up. I laughed and said, Joke, right? “No, I think you are in love with me. This will not work. You are American. I am Korean. I cannot marry you. It will be too many problems.”

Okay, so now I’m not only homesick. I not only miss my friends. I not only miss being able to talk to people. But I now have to explain to Young that I am *not* in love with him, that, truthfully, the thought of marrying him had never even entered into my realm of reality. And to try to do it in a tactful way. Though many times tact and subtlety are lost in cross-cultural communication. So, as simply as possible, I said, I know it will not work. I am not in love with you. Really. It is okay. Where he got this idea from, I do not know.

A Night Out With The Teachers

Saturday I returned to Daegu. Saturday is my longest teaching day. Seven hours straight. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it is. Running from class to class, with only a couple of minutes in between each to collect the correct papers, books, student assignments, etc. In between classes, I saw Brian, a teacher who I really like from the other campus. Dude, what are you doing here? I’m meeting two of the guys (former head teacher and another teacher) for dinner and drinks. Come and join us when you get off. I’d love to, but I teach until 10:30. We’ll still be out. Okay. I really like Brian. He’s a good guy. We were on the same plane to Korea together. It was a bonding experience. Unfortunately, he teaches at the other campus, which is over an hour away, so we don’t see each other often. I had wanted to go home and sleep, but I also wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to hang out with him for a while. So I committed to meeting them out.

A few minutes later I saw the President of the school take the former head teacher into his office. I knew by the expressions that he was being told he was no longer head teacher. Oh. And I just agreed to meet them for drinks later. This is not good. I thought about it for a long time. Should I still meet them? Will I still be welcome? Okay, I’ve got to face him sometime. Maybe a less formal situation would be better. So, after my shift I gave them a call. They told me the name of the bar where they were. Okay, I’ll be there shortly.

I walked in, the three of them were sitting at a table together. I waved from across the room, then joined them at the table. The former head teacher went to the bar to get me a drink. The other teacher went to the restroom. Brian leaned over and whispered quickly, “Heads up. President talked to former head teacher. He knows he’s been fired and you’re his replacement.” I looked at him. I know. I saw them talking. “Wow. You’ve got balls. I wouldn’t have still come out.”

The two men joined us. This is the demographics at the table. Me. 33 year old American. Brian. 50-something Canadian. Ted, former head teacher. 40-something American. Other teacher. Early 50-something American. When we’re all at the table, the other teacher, who has obviously had a lot to drink, leans over to me and slurs, “Guess what?” I don’t know, what? “Every night I have a 19 year old waiting at home to f*ck me.” There aren’t many things that render me speechless. I looked at him, took a deep breath, and said, That’s really more than I need to know about your personal life. He started to explain more, at which point the other two guys cut him off. This is what I came out for?

Ted quickly changed the conversation. “I had a meeting with the President today.” Really? “You don’t know?” Yes, I do. I’m sorry. I hope there are no hard feelings. “Not at all. When he told me I was demoted, I hoped you would be my replacement. You’re the only one who is qualified. Good luck.” Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. At all. It definitely increased my respect for him. “So, did they offer you xx amount as well to take over the position?” No, they didn’t. They offered me about half of that. Very interesting. Thank you.

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful. We talked about sports, weather, travels, life in Korea, basic things. And I discovered soju lemonade. Bad, bad, bad….

The Terrible Day

On Sunday afternoon Young called me. “It is the most terrible day.” Why? “I, in library. Wallet stolen.” No….. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry, Young. What a bummer. “My life. Gone. No keys. No money. Call you later.”

I taught until 10:30 again. At about 11 the phone rang. It was Young. “Come out. Meet us.” Who? Where? “My team (the web designers from school – him and two women) We at nightclub. Come dance. Me, terrible day today. Be happy.” I don’t know, I have to tutor in the morning. “Please, Rori. My day so terrible.” Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.

It was fun. The music was loud, but danceable. There were various live singers and groups. It was very entertaining. During a break, we were sitting at our table. The waiter came by. Young began to talk to him, then introduced me. He used a phrase I wasn’t familiar with. The waiter and I exchanged a few pleasantries then he left. I turned to Young. What did you say to him? I understood teacher, American, but what was the other? “Girlfriend. You my girlfriend.” Joke, right? He got a very serious look on his face. “No, serious. Really. You my girlfriend. You one of many girlfriends to me.” What do you mean, Young? (I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, sometimes words translate differently.) “Girlfriend. You. Me. Together.” Young, I’m not your girlfriend. “But you like me?” Yes, I do. But as a friend. You’re my friend. Not boyfriend. “But I like you. You one of many girlfriends to me.” See, that’s another problem. And here, I used conditional clauses, which are sometimes hard for native speakers to understand, much less non-native speakers. Young, if I *were* your girlfriend, which I’m not, but if I *were*, well, I’d have a problem with the “one of many” aspects. I don’t do that. I’m not “one of many.” “This, terrible day. Worst day.” And with that we parted ways. I’m sad.