Planes, Trains, and Wagons East

I’m going to Hong Kong. Fuck money, right? As the infamous Zero Mostel said in one of my favorite movies, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it, baby, flaunt it!” So I’m going to Hong Kong. Financial stability be damned. Student loans, I piss on thee. Big trip that I’m trying to save for, I bit my thumb in your general direction… with a little less contempt. Three days off work for Christmas was a welcome break, but I caught a glimpse of what life would be like if I stayed in Korea over my long 18 day winter vacation: episode after episode of Dexter, with a few friendly visits sprinkled in. And probably a lot of drinking and spending money on drinking. On Monday, back at school, after a five minute walk in -10 degree C weather (that’s about 10 degrees F for you US folk) with the added comfort of an ever present wind, I decided it was better for my mental health to get out for a while.

Top choices: Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand. Too expensive. Second choices: Philippines, Shanghai. One was too expensive, the other requires a visa I don’t have time to get. Also, it’s cold in Shanghai. Then I stumbled upon Hong Kong. Having its own government, Hong Kong does not require a visa for entry, and neither does this interesting looking Portuguese settlement nearby called Macau. I had talked about Hong Kong with a friend I used to work with long before leaving, and I remembered thinking it sounded cool. Bonus, or should I say, determining factor: it’s about 60 degrees F there at the moment. And there’s beaches. And mountains. And islands. Not to mention a bustling commercial center around which live seven million people. Oh, and the flight is cheap.

It was not easy to book the flight. Air China’s website wouldn’t work, the Air China office in Seoul closed 15 minutes before I got there (after over an hour on the subway). But finally Expedia came through for me. I’m leaving in four days and I’ll be gone for ten. This is definitely going to be the most spontaneous trip I’ve ever taken. Let’s hope it turns out well.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, a milestone has been reached: the halfway point. Of my job in Korea, that is. Unless something drastic changes, I’ve decided to hit the road earlier than expected. My contract is for one year, Sept. 23rd ’09 – Sept 22nd ’10, and I had every intention of completing that contract upon its signature. Now I sing a different tune, which speaks nothing of the country or of how much I am enjoying myself. It speaks of my own realizations that have taken place in the brief time I’ve been here. Realizations like “what did you do this weekend?” can not be the most intelligent conversation I have on any given day. Like finding out I don’t have the time or the energy to care about my job and more importantly my student’s education because of how much I teach in a given week. Like the fact that I was planning on giving myself three months off between college and work because I was burnt out on both, and I’m doing a lot more working here than traveling. I guess I knew that was going to be the case when I came here, but I didn’t realize just how much I needed some time off. And possibly the most important realization of all, because of the overtime that I’m working I can save in 6 months what I was expecting to save in a year.

I made this decision a while ago, but haven’t spoken of it for a few reasons. First, nothing is in stone until I tell my manager, and I’m not going to do that until 60 days before I leave as per my contract. Second, I wanted to give myself as long as possible to make up my mind and to allow any errors in judgment to be removed over the course of time. Every day is different. Every day brings on a new perspective on my environment and on life overall. Some days I wake up loving life and go to bed wishing I was somewhere else. Other days I wake up hating the world and lie down at night with a whole new respect for it. That mental rollercoaster has pretty much subsided as I’ve carved out a nice life for myself here, but what ups and downs still do exist come by week and weekend.

Weekends are wonderful. I used to be a tourist on the weekends, but now I have enough of a social network where that is no longer necessary. Late nights with beer, friends, and good television is how it usually turns out, and I go to bed wanting to stay here forever. Then Monday comes with a renewed sense of discomfort. First up, teaching a 10 minute lesson on “What school do you go to?” “I go to Cheoncheon Elementary School,” or other various five-six word dialogues, on camera in front of the entire school. With my day already completely ruined, I arrive late to class due to the principal’s ridiculously long morning speech on the announcements before my “lesson”, and jump headfirst into a new lesson plan which inevitably fails in one way or another. Thirty or so classes and countless repetitions of “Is this your cap?” “That’s too bad” or “What do you want to do?” later, I finish the week with only enough time to walk myself through what the god-awful textbook has planned for my next embarrassing week. The material is absolutely horrific, and I like to think I would make my own lesson plans if I had the time. All of this by now has become routine and much less painful, but it’s a routine I still dread every Sunday night. I’ve got eighteen days off starting on Dec. 31st and I sorely need all of them.

Unfortunately, because I’m leaving early, I need to save all my money for the big trip that I’ve been planning for three years, which is to start when I leave Korea. Therefore I can’t really afford to go anywhere over the break. That could change if I can find a ridiculously cheap flight to someplace warm, or get so bored I don’t care about money and hop a ferry to Japan. Regardless, I’ll be leaving Korea for good on March 23rd, or a week or two later (depending on if I can squeeze out a few more weeks of salary + overtime). That makes January 23rd my notification date. I’m really dreading telling my manager because she’s been great to me, and so has everyone else at my school, but sometimes I have to do what’s best for me.

It’s not all bad, though. I’m a celebrity at my school and in my neighborhood as well (mostly because that’s where all my kids live). I can’t walk two steps without someone yelling out “Hello, teacher!” or “Engel teacher!” I thought that would get old after a while, but it really hasn’t. Provided I’m not out of breath from walking up 5 flights of stairs and grumpy from my morning fog, I love it. And these are kids who usually bow respectfully to their Korean teachers, hoping they won’t really be noticed. I think they like me. Some kids come by just to talk, which I’m not great at, but learning to enjoy. I have to walk through a neighborhood of 15-story apartment buildings to get from my apartment to the shopping center, and I rarely make it one way without being accosted by one of my kids, amazed that I’m a person who exists outside of school. I remember the feeling. If they have food, they always offer it to me, and I never turn down free food. On the other hand, sometimes six of them ambush me walking home with a pizza and demand some. I often think I’m heartless because I don’t give them any, but then I remember I’m hungry.

More reasons for leaving early… You just can’t beat April, May, and June as months for travel. My step-sister will be studying abroad in Beijing, which is where I’ll be heading immediately. Both my mom and my dad want to take trips abroad in the spring, and I’ll hopefully be meeting up with them in Europe at some point. It’s freakin’ cold here now, and in the summer it’s going to be freakin’ hot and my apartment has heat but not air conditioning. Having a routine here makes me miss my old routines on the homestead. I miss my family.

Reasons for staying… I have a lot of friends here, more so than I did back in college. Funny, I also drink more here than in college. I hope that’s a correlation and not causation. Anyways. The money is incredible. I mean incredible. And good luck to me finding a job when I get back home. There’s a lot of Korea I haven’t seen yet. Public transportation is GREAT! I really do enjoy some of my kids, when I don’t have to teach them.

All that being said, I think its time to move on. I’m three months in and I’m already itching for the next leg of my big trip. The fact that there are seven huge world maps around my classroom that I have to look at every day does not placate my wander lust in the least. Still, I have another month yet to decide, so any input would be helpful (THAT MEANS LEAVE COMMENTS PLEASE).

Merry Christmas and a Happy Passover, everyone. It’s been 4 months to the day since I left Charlottesville. I’ve traveled a lot, seen a lot, done a lot, and learned a lot, but I’ve also missed a lot. And I’m still missing. You.

Oh, and if you happen upon any teachers from my school, please don’t mention any of this.

Here are some of the stranger thing I experience on a daily basis. Laughter is encouraged, but only because I can't see or hear you laughing at me. Enjoy.

There’s a typo written in irremovable ink on my English classroom wall – “World Famous Beauty Spofs.”

Chocolate did not encourage my students to participate. It did, however, encourage me to eat it in front of them.

I wonder if my kids know Sanford and Son. If they don’t, they certainly know the theme song because that’s what I sing to them all day.

Yelling really loud with a booming, bass voice will instantly quiet and scare the shit out of a room full of 40 students. Cracking up as a result reverses that effect.

No baseball bats in the classroom, therefore plastic tennis rackets = bats as props for role play. Line: “Is this your bat?” “Yes it is!” No, it isn’t. It’s a tennis racket and it belongs to the school. What the fuck am I teaching these kids?

My mouse-wheel squeaks.

My pointer lost a finger.

My hair broke a set of clippers.

I never thought I’d utter the phrase “You are going to sit quietly while I have my coffee.”

I accidentally changed the language on the copy machine from Korean to English. I couldn’t figure out how to change it back.

I couldn’t figure out why my good students who volunteer in class were angry when I gave chocolate as incentive to the students who wouldn’t, and not to them… until I actually spoke those words out loud.

Korean apartments are heated by steam pipes running under the floor. As a result my clothes are warmer than I am at night. I’ve never had a better reason to clean my room.

The 3rd floor of my school is an “English Only Zone”. My classroom is on the 5th floor. Something is amiss but I can’t figure out what.

In Korea X’s and O’s as symbols mean the opposite of what they mean in the U.S. No wonder my love is unrequited… I’ve been sending it out all wrong.

Revitalized with tired eyes and energized by pious cries,
Arrived to bind the conscious mind with unknown thoughts always left behind.
The shrine was lined from side to side, with bending thighs I knelt beside,
Trying to find a peace of mind, obliged to rectify self with divine.
Enlightened, surprised, mystified and clarified.
Glorified, deified, sanctified, and spiritualized.
I left the alpine shrine mesmerized, with a refined new thinking of the sublime.
The life of a monk on Buddha’s time collided with this little mind of mine.

And now for what actually happened. I had no intention of going on this trip. I didn’t have the money. Then I got offered a free spot on the bus because it wasn’t going to be full. So I jumped at the chance. It was a trip to Gyeongju, a place I had been wanting to go for a while, combined with a Temple Stay, and a trip to Haeinsa on the way home. A Temple Stay is a program allowing you to overnight at a Buddhist temple while participating in the daily routine of Buddhist monks.

Gyeongju was the center of the Shilla dynasty back in the day. It is the most respected religious and historical site in Korea. The Kings of this great dynasty are buried there in huge burial mounds surrounded by flat open fields, the whole of which is ringed by mountains. It’s an absolutely gorgeous place.


We left Seoul at 8am (requiring a 5:30am wakeup time) and departed on the four hour bus ride. Upon arriving, we first toured the aforementioned burial mounds and the famous temple in the area: Bolguksa.



After that we headed the Seokguram Grotto, carved into a cliff side, which houses a very large statue of Buddha, unfortunately kept behind glass.


The temple of the Temple Stay, Golgulsa, was the last stop. Dinner was served as we arrived: rice and Korean vegetables that I don’t like. It was a small dinner even though I was required to eat all the food on my place (or else I would be cursed with nine years of bad luck).

After dinner was Sunmudo training. Sunmudo is a martial art/meditation technique combining the skill of quick, explosive motion with control of the body and breathing. It’s incredibly difficult. I wobbled and stumbled and quietly contemplated my way through the exercise. An hour later I was in bed. You have to go to bed early if you’re going to wake up at 4am.

One of the most amazing things I have experienced is being woken up in complete darkness by the tapping of a woodblock in time with the chanting of a monk, echoing throughout the alpine temple complex. It’s a strange sensation hearing that sound resonate so clearly throughout the world from indoors. I trudged my way up the mountainside to the temple where the service had already begun. I snuck in the back and began to bow and listen. For thirty minutes I sat and meditated with the monks (and many other foreigners), trying not to move or make noise. That was more difficult than I thought, especially with an adorable dog resting on the mat next to me. I don’t know if it was the sleep deprivation or what, but the meditation was indescribably relaxing. When the sitting meditation was over I headed outside for the walking meditation. About ten laps around a religious statue (of some kind) in slow, cautious yet unnoticed steps, in the fading black, followed by a decent down the mountainside at the same pace brought me to breakfast refreshed and renewed. I was there, but I wasn’t. I remember all of it and I remember none of it. Is it possible to be inside and outside the mind at the same time? Do the opposite states somehow cancel each other out a la some ridiculous fundamental algebraic equation? I’ll leave those questions for my next meditation.

Breakfast was a ritual in and of itself. Here it is: Bowl (one big bowl with 3 smaller bowls inside) placed in front of right knee. Set placemat on floor. Put bowl at bottom left corner of placemat. Remove 3 bowls with your thumbs, place them on mat clockwise. Remove wooden utensils from sack, place in the water bowl. Rinse big bowl with water, pour in the next bowl, rise, pour, rinse, pour. Hold big bowl with both hands for junior monk to place in rice. Touch bowl to your head out of respect. Same with soup bowl. Self-serve vegetables. Rinse a piece of Kimchi in the soup to use as a scrub brush to clean the bowls when finished. Eat every scrap of food except that piece of Kimchi. Wash bowls with hot water, rise, pour, rinse, pour, scrubbing with Kimchi each time. Drink the remaining soup of hot water and food remains and eat the scrub. Rinse again with cold water. Pour out the clean cold water, drink the water if food specs remain. Dry the bowls with a rag. Return bowls and utensils to their initial state. It took more energy to have breakfast than I got from eating breakfast.

A brief nap after breakfast, followed by tea, followed by a bus tour to another temple and a trip to the East Sea, followed by lunch, consisting of the same food as dinner, and we were off on the road again.

Destination: Haeinsa. Haeinsa is a temple famous in Korea and around the world because it houses the world’s most complete collection of Buddhist texts. They are carved onto wood blocks and housed in four huge buildings. Incredible how much effort was put into the creation of this text.


We arrived back in Seoul at 9pm and I was home by 10; utterly exhausted yet strangely exhilarated.

And now the rest of what I’ve been up to. Four weeks, four weekends, four fantastic destinations since my last pictured post. I’ve got a lot to say, so let’s get down to business. Clear your schedule, this’ll be a long one.


My first trip in Korea outside of Seoul was to Yongin, a city 30 minutes south of Suwon, and home to the Korean Folk Village. I was bored on a Sunday and decided to make the trip solo. The village is a re-creation for tourists, nestled on the side of a mountain, straddling a small river just across the street from the city. The dense fall trees made it seem like the real countryside.


I strolled around the pretty extensive collection of houses, took pictures, watched an old dude do some tightrope walking, and enjoyed the crisp autumn air.


The next weekend was Halloween. Of course, good ol’ Jon came up with an… interesting activity: a scavenger hunt around Seoul. About 15 or so people showed up to this thing. We met at Yongsan Station just outside one of the largest electronics markets in the world. Yeah, I was conflicted as to what I wanted to do: the hunt or the nerd’s paradise. I decided to go on the hunt. So we split up into groups of four to romp around the city, make fools of ourselves and embarrass white people everywhere. Here are some examples of what we had to do: (not my photos)

1.    Find a street vendor and cook the food for them. Yeah, I'm churnin' the ice cream.


2.    Drink a beer in the back of the bus. The one in the middle is Matt... I'll get to him.


3.    Wear a Korean traditional dress (Hanbok). BONUS: Male team member wearing a Hanbok. (my friend Irfan.)


4.    Take a picture of a Korean guy with a guitar


5.    Eat live octopus (I refused to do this one)

Fortunately for us, one of our group members (Matt) was dressed as a woman, which is apparently way out of the ordinary in Korea as he got stares from about ten thousand disgusted Koreans. Took some of the spotlight off me; I didn’t wear a costume. Halfway through the hunt, though, we all decided we wanted Falafel. So we ditched the list and found an amazing Jordanian restaurant in Itaewon (the international district).

The horse races run year round in Seoul. While that offers me the chance to see the horses on a whim, it also means that the crowd on a cold November day will be interested in betting and nothing else. The middle-aged men on a mission poured out of the subway and led my trusty companion Jon and I straight to the track. And what a track it is. There’s a children’s park in the middle, and it’s got a great view of Seoul to the left and the colorful mountains all around. It also has a foreigner’s lounge where they give out (half-assed) racing forms in English and teach you how to bet. As you might expect, I won my first bet on a 5-1 odds horse, but there was a glitch in the system and apparently I just traded in my 1000 won for a voucher instead of actually betting. Oh, I was pissed. Jon was betting to place on names alone and twice picked the horse with the lowest odds. One won, and one placed. It was a pretty exciting day. The two of us are actually hosting a meet-up event there this Sunday.

And now for the main event. The most recent event. This past Friday Jon and I took the train to Busan leaving at 11:30pm, arriving at 4:15am. This cross-country trip took only five hours; a much shorter ride than I’m used to. After getting in, we went to a Kimbap Kitchen (a cheap place to get good food), sat down, and had some Kimbap as we waited for the trains to start running to take us to our couchsurfer's place. We were trying to figure out what we could do until then.

Busan is a port city on the southeastern coast, jutting out into the South Sea. I thought we should try to find a beach for the sunrise. Jon remembered a place he'd read about in the Lonely Planet (Taejongde), but we didn't think we'd have time to get there. Just as we were paying for our food, a Korean lady working the kitchen asked us if we were headed to Taejongde. She must have overheard us. We said absolutely, and she told us the bus there stopped right outside the kitchen. 20 minutes later we were on the bus, and an hour later we were standing atop huge granite cliffs jutting straight out of the sea watching the sun rise in the distance over Tsushimia, Japan. Yeah, I saw Japan. Easily the most beautiful place I’d been in Korea. By 8am we were back on the bus to get the real trip started. (Resuming my photos)


We arrived at our couchsurfing accommodations, introduced ourselves, and left quickly to find our trailhead. Of course we were going hiking. Busan is home to Geumjeong Fortress, a huge fortress wall that we just had to climb, with a few gorgeous temples along the way. We took a cable car up the mountain to start our hike. We decided to head for Seokbulsa, a Buddhist temple, first. That walk took us immediately back down the mountain only to walk up another. What we found at the top was spectacular. It was a shrine carved into huge granite rocks jutting out of the top of the mountain with a gorgeous temple built beside it. I didn’t take a picture because it would have been disrespectful, but one shrine held the most Buddhas I’d ever seen.


Back down one mountain and up the other we went, following our route from before. Then we began a six hour trek along the fortress wall. Now, I didn’t sleep on the train. So I was running on fumes at this point. I also didn’t know how long or strenuous this climb was going to be. But the wall just kept going… and going… and going. We would reach the top of one mountain just to watch the trail continue along the mountain ridge, up another steep mountaintop.



Up and down, up and down, for six hours. Yeah, I felt absolutely horrible. Props to Jon for keeping me going and brushing off my complaints. But the views were pretty amazing.


At the end of the hike was one of Korea’s largest temple complexes: Beomosa. Unfortunately we arrived in the dimming light of dusk and in the haze of exhaustion, but it was still beautiful. I also surpassed my most-Buddhas-seen-in-one-room count there, yet, no picture. Respect, oh how I loathe thee.

After the hike we went to meet up with our host at Shinsegae Centum City. No surprise, Korea is home to the world’s biggest mall. This was it. And holy shit, how ridiculous this place was. It had an ice-skating rink. Inside. ON THE FOURTH FLOOR!!! Pure insanity.



Our host invited us to a couchsurfer’s outing in this place. Yet she made no effort to find us  and never did. I fell asleep waiting for her. Then, when we decided to leave, it took about 20 minutes to get out of this monstrosity of a building because there were only three elevators servicing all 15 floors. We went back to our place, tired, and angry. The next day we left without saying goodbye.

On the way home we rode the KTX train, the fastest train in Korea, for half of the trip. We topped out at 302 km/h, and I finally got a chance to see what lies between Korean cities. It really is a beautiful country, once you get passed all the metal and concrete.

Preface: I don't listen to Pink Floyd much, this title just happens to work well with the content. Still, I hope you appreciate my way with words.

Ok, time to play major catch up. For some reason I haven’t posted in a while because I thought I hadn’t done enough to warrant any updates. I was very wrong. Maybe that’s because I was cowering in the newcomer’s depression which had me by the throat after teaching started. The best way to describe it, as cliché as it sounds, is a wall. It’s not a wall that you hit, it’s a wall that exists from the moment you arrive, a wall you can always see and always feel. And no, you can’t climb it. Impossible. It’s too high, and it casts such a shadow in which you forever walk until eventually you begin to feel there is no other side. All you can do is charge head first and hope your mind is stronger than the brick before you. Now, I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think I have broken through that wall. And not only can I see life on the other side, but I can also look back through the hole that I left and see what was hidden, tucked away in that shadow behind me. So here’s what’s recently come into the light:

Forgive the lack of pictures. Only words for this entry. I could make a whole metaphorical and profound statement about pictures and shadows and light but fuck it, just read.

As you know, I was utterly exhausted from teaching, preventing me from hiking or getting much exercise of any kind (unless you consider straining my eye muscles to watch the West Wing an aerobic sport). To remedy this I bought a basketball and started to play most days after school on the sand court at a park near my place. One day I was joined by a sixty-or-so year old Korean man who was looking to get schooled by this hardcore baller. I tore his ass up. Not really. We just shot around for a while in the middle of this deserted park, as far away from the throngs of people as you can get in a Korean city, cheering each other on as best we could in our separate languages.

A different park, on a different day. Just passing through on my way to the Lotte Mart (Korea’s Wal-Mart without the employee mistreatment). Tune in my head, coming from a great night out with Jon in Anyang, looking to pick up some milk for breakfast the next day. 9pm, midnight black, Korea’s famous neon signs only a dim blur down the street. Three of my 6th grade kids pop out from the playground wielding chocolate sticks. Tomorrow was Pepero Day. November 11th. 11/11. The Pepero company decided to take advantage of this day by selling boxes of cheap and delicious chocolate sticks (because sticks look like 1’s) on that day, and only that day. Hence, Pepero Day. My kids offered me one of the boxes they had bought for the celebration. Of course, the day before I had finally become determined to stop eating junk food and start cooking for myself. A test, if you will, from the Korean gods. Whether I passed or failed is beside the point. My kids gave me chocolate. In a park. At 9pm, in pitch blackness.

There are no Korean Jews. None that I or any of my Jewish friends here have heard of. Yes, I’ve already met five other Jewish English teachers. I guess the wandering Jew phenomenon is real. That or we’re all in severe debt. But I digress. The point is there are no Korean Jews that I know of. But all Koreans read the Talmud. Everyone owns a copy. Mind-boggling.

In case you didn’t notice, I don’t do transition material.

Ever heard of Koreans playing Portuguese music? Well, I’ve seen it. I went to a concert with Jon and my new friend Sue put on by the Portuguese Studies department at Hanguk University of Foreign Studies in Seoul. Needless to say I had low expectations going in, and the first half of the show lived down to my billing. The second half, however, was fantastic. One student sang one of the most incredible, passionate, and soulful songs I have ever heard. I don’t really know Portuguese music, but if it’s anything close to what I heard from him, I love it.

Random musings complete. Stay tuned, there will be a quick turnaround on my next entry. As I said, turns out I’ve done quite a bit in the last few weeks.

So, it’s officially five weeks into the Korea experiment and I’m just starting to get settled in. Routines are forming, new friendships are burgeoning, work is stabilizing (kind of), and home is starting to feel a little more like it. Oh, and I got paid for the first time last week, even more than expected. Payday makes everything better. So let’s talk daily life.

My apartment is… interesting. It’s the second floor in the back of this building, above a restaurant and below my Korean landlady.


We’ll start with the good. It’s free. Its also about a five minute walk to my school, a seven minute walk to a shopping center, a ten minute walk to the subway, a twelve minute walk to the University area, a 30 minute walk from a beautiful lake (reservoir) park, a one minute walk from a convenience store, and a two minute walk to several Wang Galbi (Suwon’s famous beef ribs) places.


Other than that it’s just a place to sleep. Which brings me to the bad. Well, I say bad, but it’s really just a question of adjustment which, after a month, is approaching normality. First, I have to turn on the hot water and let it warm up for 10 minutes before I use it… every time. That’s not too bad though, I’ve already got a system down. Second, there’s no A/C. That hasn’t caused my any problems thus far because it gets nice and cool at night. We’ll see how I fare in the summer. Last, the bathroom. My toilet, sink, shower, and washing machine are all within five feet of each other and all drain through the same pipe, the shower and washing machine water going through a drain in the floor. Yes, clogging is a problem. This was all a bit of a shock at first, and it’s taken some getting used to. Now, while it’s not my favorite room in the house, it’s become the norm. I should say, I don’t mind this kind of situation while traveling, but I’m just not used to staring down 6 months to a year of less comfort than I’m accustomed to. Which brings us back to the word of the day: adjustment.


My job is… growing on me. The first day was pretty awful. Not that the teaching was especially difficult, but I had no idea what I was doing and it felt like I was the one being taught. Not a good feeling when you’ve got 35 pairs of eyes on you the whole time. The next day and the rest of the week was infinitely better. I learned how to do the lesson after many repetitions and by the end of the week I felt much better about life. My second week was even better than the first. I started to loosen up “on stage” and I’m getting more comfortable acting like a fool, which my kids (4th, 5th, and 6th grade) just love. Also, I met my special class for the first time. The special class is a group of 20 students from all three grades who are especially advanced in the language. They understand my instructions and we can actually have conversations. The only difficult part about that class is that it meets for two hours a day, three days a week, so there’s a lot of lesson planning involved, and I have to take attendance using their Korean names which I never pronounce right. Oh, and they all try to steal the chocolate I give out as incentive when the class is over. So needless to say, I’m enjoying my job a lot more now that I was. Granted, I haven’t taught a full week yet. My first week was 22 teaching hours, the second week was 19, last week was 23, and I’m supposed to teach 34.


My school is… wonderful. My co-teachers are spectacular. They help me out immensely. My handler, Mi-ae, has taken me to the doctor three times, the immigration office twice, and gotten me faster internet, among many other things. She also took me out for the most amazing meal of King Crab last week. Joy (her English name) is a wonderful, strong woman balancing 3 young kids and her full time teaching job while her husband is living about 2 hours away working for a promotion. She loves talking to me and speaks great English. Mrs. Kim is soft-spoken and doesn’t speak English very well, but we get along fine and she helps out a lot with her classes.


My classroom is almost palatial. And the students come in every day at lunch to clean it for me. I’m a lenient taskmaster. Step into my office.



My social life is… growing. Kind of. I’ve met many foreigners through Meetup.com, a website designed to put people living abroad in contact with other people in their area. I’ve gone to a few meet-ups and met some interesting people. I’ve also met some nice people living around Suwon, and I’m making fast friends with the teachers at my school. My teacher buddy Jang and I went out for a hike and some galbi last weekend.


The problem is most days I’m too tired from teaching to do anything social. I just want to run home and collapse in bed. I’ve heard that’s how it is for new teachers… there’s a long adjustment period. Regardless, I’ve done at least one new thing every weekend since I’ve been here. I have not left the greater Seoul area yet, but that will happen soon. I’m planning a trip somewhere to be determined. It’s difficult because most of the things I want to do in Korea take more than a weekend. Traveling becomes something entirely different when you’re working as well. My goal is to find one thing every day that makes me say “wow, I’m in fucking Korea.” I’ve been pretty successful so far.

Korea. So far? A place of extremes. A place of intense energy and incredible exhaustion. A place of tranquil silence and deafening volume. A place of instant camaraderie and inescapable isolation. A place of deep history and rabid modernization. A place of delight and a place of misery. My first 10 days here were spectacular. My last 6 brought me as low as I hope to sink. Let’s start with the spectacular, after all, I am an optimist.

Actually the spectacular begins horribly. Upon arriving here I met up with my wonderful friend and trustworthy travel buddy Jon in Anyang City. He immediately took me out for chicken and beer and made sure to tell me he was going to order something not spicy because Korean food is some of if not the spiciest food in all of Asia. Without knowing it we got was the spiciest thing on the menu and I was left searching for my stomach by the light of the candle. The next day I went to Seoul for the first of what would be five trips to the city in 10 days. We went to the Asian Song Festival at the World Cup Stadium and saw several pop bands from across Asia, though Koreans were the dominant performers. An authentic cultural experience.


The following day we went for a hike and found this lovely vista. The city in the foreground: Anyang. The city in the distance: Seoul. After the hike we headed to the city again for a walk along the Han River.


Jon had to work the next day so I took it upon myself to do some touristy things. I went back to Seoul and toured Deoksugung Palace, one of the five imperial palaces scattered across the dazzling city. I was incredibly surprised when I got offered a post as Imperial Guard #42. They even had my size uniform. (The uniform and the camera add 30lbs)


The palace was small, gorgeous, and incredibly colorful. It left me with the feeling that I had to see the other four. It took plenty of restraint not to go to them immediately. But hey, I’ve got a long time for that yet.

The National Museum of Korea was next on the chopping block. A huge, incredibly modern casing for some very old and fragile treasures. I had no idea it held my favorite piece of artwork. Of course, I had no idea what that was until I saw it.


I moved into my apartment and into my own Korean life the next day. I have a lot to say about my living situation, school, job, and friends, and you will hear it I promise, but today is for what I’ve done. Mostly I can’t talk about these things because I have no pictures of any of them yet. In due course, of course.

After taking a day or two to get settled into life in Suwon I went to find the cities main attraction: Hwaseong Fortress. Built in 1789, almost the entire structure still stands. It is a fortified wall with several massive gates enclosing the original town of Suwon. It was built by King Joengjo of the Joseon Dynasty as he designed to move the capital from Seoul to my city. I think I am befitting of its grandeur. I took the time to walk the entire circumference of the work of art along the original stone walls. It was the first of many walks to come. I plan to get to know this military marvel intimately.


Later that night I went out with a new friend, a fellow English teacher named Josh, and some of his friends. We got a little trashed, ate some delicious Galbi, talked about the Red Light district in Suwon, and played darts and pool.

Before coming here I had never eaten raw fish. That all changed the next night when I went out again with Josh and a friend from work. They took me to their favorite raw fish joint. The meal was pretty good and the drinks were better. We stumbled upon two other whiteys while trolling for a good bar and proceeded to have a philosophical discussion with them reminiscent of those I used to have with my roommate at JMU. I felt bad for our Korean friend who could not keep up with our English. Enlightenment aside, raw tuna, raw flounder, raw mussels, and raw clams equals sick Seth. Not food poisoning, just my own inability to digest the foreign food and bacteria. So I’ve been incapacitated, bedridden, and suffering for the past 6 days. Just today I reached the point where I can eat real food again. Only fatigue and a cough remain. But there’s nothing like a good physical illness in a foreign country to bring all the homesick feelings to the surface. And once they’re there, they’re not easy to get rid of. I’m working through it though, one episode of the West Wing at a time.

I start teaching tomorrow. I was nervous as hell before this ordeal, but now it just doesn’t seem so bad. I’m even looking forward to it because it will give me an excuse to get out of this apartment and out of my own head.

So there you have it. My Korea. It’s extremes. My extremes. As much as this might be my adventure, I’m starting to realize I’m really just along for the ride.

Oh boy, so much to catch up on. In the blog-o-sphere I’m still in Seattle. In real life I’m halfway ‘round the world. My last few days in Seattle were unforgettable, so let’s start with the aquarium.


Tom, Lizzy, Jory and I went to see the fishies and otters and were surprised by a rare viewing of an octopus feeding. Strangely enough I ate octopus today. It was the school lunch. Anyway, the day on the waterfront with the family was great. The next day Jory and I went downtown, had some amazing curry, and then separated so that I could tour the Seattle public library and take a nice ferry ride.

For those of you who don’t know, my biggest fear is of large bodies of water. I love the beach, but not the ocean. I love islands, but not the trip across the drink. I’ve been getting better over the years, and this ride certainly helped. I wasn’t on water, I was on a huge moving landmass. I was amazed how it was able to dock so precisely. Bainbridge Island was the destination; a small, upscale island about a half hour across the Puget Sound. There I participated in my first wine tasting. What an experience. I had some great conversations with two middle aged couples who had just reached the tipsy stage. I also learned all about swirling, smelling, and gurgling wine from the incredibly nice bartender. Maybe I like wine after all.


After that I went searching for a lake park I had heard about but no one on the island seemed to know. Some helpful island folk pointed me in the right direction and I eventually made it to the park where I found trails that were unmarked and slightly unnerving to be walked alone, so I turned back. Those same locals recommended the Harbor Pub for dinner and let me tell you… you should go to Seattle for that meal alone. Overlooking the harbor, with a view of the Seattle skyline through a field of white masts I scarfed down, but thoroughly enjoyed, an incredible crab melt with artichoke sauce. I can still taste it. (If you’re beginning to notice a pattern, you’re right. I LOVE FOOD!) After that I caught the night ferry back and got to watch this coming at me for 30 minutes… bliss.


For my last two days in Seattle I was underground and under a spell. Jory and I took a tour of the Seattle underground, where the city used to be before it was raised to fix sewage disposal problems. It was spooky, sarcastic, satirical, and scintillating. The following day was Danny Schmidt. I took the whole family out for a night with one of the great Charlottesville musicians who just happened to be playing in Seattle the night before I left. He moved me just as much that night, after countless shows, even singing with a cold, as he did when I first saw him.

I have gained a good deal of confidence recently, which probably was the driving force behind introducing myself to the incomparable songwriter, something I never did in Charlottesville. Something about amazing musicians intimidates the hell out of me. Regardless, after the show I approached and told him I was leaving for South Korea in the morning and that I couldn’t ask for a better way to spend my last night in the US, entangled in family, lyrics, love, and melody. I think he understood my sincerity. Thomas and Lizzy were true champs, taking in and enjoying music well past their bedtimes, and Jory and Chris also had a great time. It was a fitting end to an amazing trip, and I hope the whole family enjoyed their time with me as much as I did with them.

The next day I crossed an ocean.

p.s. Korea is coming. I find with this blog I am living in the past. I’ve got to fix my flux capacitor before I can get back to the future. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Keep a watchful eye. Here’s a little teaser…

Let’s start with the Wicked. By Wicked I mean the new musical. For my birthday the family all got tickets to the performance on its second night in Seattle. I had wanted to see this show since I heard about it, so needless to say I was thrilled when I found out. We all got dressed up and went to dinner at a nice Vietnamese restaurant. Then we crossed the street to the Paramount Theater. I know there are Paramount Theaters everywhere, but it still felt a little like I was in Charlottesville again. Anyway, the show was spectacular. The story weaved wonderfully with the Wizard of Oz, and the vocalists were great. Elpheba, the “Wicked” Witch of the West, was spectacular, and her voice should be known across the country.

The Wicked Awesome will take slightly longer to explain. First, Notre Dame trounced Nevada in their season opener 35-0. That would be the highlight of any other week for me, but not this one by far. Later that day I went to Bumbershoot, Seattle’s 3 day music and arts festival, with Olivia.


That night we saw several great bands, including two that left a mark: Eric Hutchinson and Elvis Perkins. The following day was even better. Highlights included stand-up comedy by Sara Silverman and Eugene Mirman (the landlord in Flight of the Conchords) and music by Michael Franti and Jason Mraz. The Black Eyed Peas starred on the third day which was cut short to take Olivia to the airport. She had to be back at school the following day. Tearful goodbye.

With my cousin gone and the kids starting school in a few days, I decided to hop a Greyhound bus to Vancouver, BC. On the ride I met a local named Laura who told me where to stay and how to get there. Boy was she right. My hostel was downtown in the artsy/gay community near Davie Street, as opposed to the other hostels on the party streets or 30 minutes away. I arrived at about 3pm and proceeded to walk around the city until about 9. I walked along Robson Street (the glamour district) and many others before reaching Stanley Park. Let me tell you about Stanley Park. It’s far and away my favorite park.


Surrounded by a Seawall, it’s basically a forest that juts out into English Bay as a peninsula off of downtown. Trails run all through the park, connecting lakes, tennis courts, and lookouts. The best lookout is at the northern-most point of the park and gives a spectacular view of both North Vancouver and downtown.


After walking all around the park, I was headed back when I was called to the beach by the sound of drums. It was a drum circle, and anyone could join. Of course I had to lay it down for the nice folks. I say that, but I really have no drum skills. The guy next to me was a master though. After A few rounds I headed for the hostel, stopping for some Singaporean food before collapsing. Today’s pedometer: 12-15 miles.


As expected, I woke up to the rain. It didn’t get me down. What did get me down was the fact that the hostel was full for the following night, and I had only booked the one I just slept through. After an hour of waiting for someone to give up their reservation, the management figured out there was one bed available… mine. I guess they hadn’t realized that that I was staying in the bed that I was sleeping in, and no one else was. So after I had packed all my stuff to find a new hostel, I went back up, unpacked, and set off for Lynn Canyon. Almost immediately upon walking into the park I came upon a 50m high suspension bridge over a waterfall.


Perfect. A fantastic sight, even in the rain. I hiked around the temperate rainforest for about 4 hours, stopping twice in the park’s café for lunch and for hot chocolate. After hiking I headed back downtown the way I came: Seabus. The Seabus is a hovercraft-looking vessel that crosses the inlet between downtown and North Vancouver, and offers some spectacular views of the city.


Public transportation in Vancouver in general is awesome. Though expensive, I could get anywhere in the city quickly and easily, and by the third day I had the system down. The rain had subsided by the time I got back downtown, so I spent the rest of the day walking along English bay. I caught a sliver of sunset through the clouds while munching on Falafel. Today’s pedometer: about 5 miles.


In the morning I was ready to die. Ready to die in the sense that I was about to kill myself. About to kill myself in the sense that in a few hours I was going to be in intense pain and anguish. Intense pain and anguish in the sense that I was going to really enjoy myself. That, my friends, is the Grouse Grind. A 1.5 mile hike up the side of Grouse Mountain that gains 2750 feet in elevation. Did I mention I had walked about 20 miles in the previous two days? My legs were burning before I even woke up that morning. Nevertheless, I was determined, and when I reached the trail I became even more so. All people of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages were climbing with me. Several over 60, one under 7, Asians, Indians, Germans (who set a great pace for me as I followed), and locals, from the best in fitness to the worst in health. I knew I had to finish, and they all helped push and pull me up the mountain. The view at the top was well worth it.


As was the amusement park-like atmosphere that I found at the top. Chairlifts, ziplines, an endangered black and grizzly bear preserve, and a lumberjack show were the main attractions, with a view of Vancouver to the right and Mt. Baker to the left.


The bears were huge and the lumberjacks were world-class, literally. Most tourists took the Skylift (essentially a jumbo chairlift) up instead of doing the Grind. I only took it down.


For some reason no one I asked knew where the Indian market was. I had a general idea so I decided to go searching for it. Found. And on my first try too. Unfortunately it was a disappointment. It consisted almost entirely of clothing stores, and was very run down. So I headed back to my stomping ground on Davie Street. Coming from the Indian market I had a hankerin’ for some Indian food, so I found a place and had a good meal. It’s a good thing I left the market quickly because I was able to catch a full sunset over English Bay, unspoiled by clouds. Today's pedometer: about 5 miles.


The morning of my last day I took a short ferry to Granville Island, which isn’t really an Island, but the ferry was still the best way to get there. The “island” was home to the Granville Public Market which teemed with fish, people, and the smell of fish and people.


I walked around the small island and sat down at Tony’s Fish and Oysters for the best meal of the trip: a Halibut burger, chips, and a Granville Island Lager with the brewery just on the other side of the street. Memories in hand and head, I made my way to the bus station to come home.

Vancouver in summary: I want to live there. I loved the parks, I loved the neighborhoods, I loved the transportation, I loved the helpful, friendly, outdoorsy people, I loved the fact that old couples were strolling and single women were running or walking their dogs downtown after the sky had turned black. I felt safe everywhere. In two words, it was wicked awesome.

My nine year old cousin Lizzy made me a cake for my birthday. Well, Jory made the cake, but Lizzy put on the frosting; a real family effort to celebrate my arrival in Seattle and the world on the same day. And what a great day it was. Catching up with cousins Thomas, Lizzy, and Olivia in the afternoon, family dinner with Jory and Uncle Chris in the evening, followed by cake and board games at night. All in all, a great welcome.

I find downtown to be the best place to spend your first day in a new city. Seattle’s downtown is home to one of the most famous markets in the world: Pike Place Market. That was our first destination. Throngs of people choked the halls. Tourists watched the famous fish throwers (though we didn’t see any tosses), townies bough fresh local produce (delicious peaches and plums), hungry folks slipped into crowded seafood restaurants for a bite, artsy folks browsed the homemade craft stands, and all enjoyed the overwhelming smells and sounds of a market come to life.


Ducking into some shops lining the street that absorbed the market overflow, Olivia and I stumbled upon a restaurant I recognized from Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, a show on the travel channel following one man’s nose for great food. Of course I had to eat there, and it did not disappoint. It was a 26 year old Russian bakery called after its famous dish: Piroshky Piroshky. Beef and cheese (or other fillings) were baked inside pastry dough, the sum of which delighted every one of my senses. We even got to watch the master chef at work.


After lunch I found out that sirens are not always beautiful women calmly caressing notes to lure you to your death. In this case they took the form of a homeless looking jug band playing for coins outside what turned out to be the original Starbucks. We listened to them for quite a long time and were only able to loosen ourselves from their grasp by buying a CD and knowing we could hear them later.


Then it was back inside the market for more food. This time at the Athenian, a restaurant that had been in its same location in a world famous market for 100 years. We had to try it, and the crab cakes were spectacular. After we left the market we walked around the city and found ourselves in a lovely coffee shop a few blocks from where we started. A delicious homemade meal and an introduction to Flight of the Conchords for Olivia brought a fitting end to a wonderful first day.

Day 2: Beach day. But first, lunch at the Fiddlers Inn, a local joint. The nachos there (an appetizer) fed both me and Olivia. Lip-smackin good too. I decided to leave the toasted cheese sandwich on the menu for another day. Afterword we all swam in Lake Washington, a five minute drive from the house. Cold water but warm family fun.


And on the third day God said “Let there be hiking,” and there was much rejoicing. Olivia and I drove to Mt. Rainier National Park (see the big mountain), set up camp along White River, and headed for the trails.


As we arrived, the fog cleared and Rainier towered above us, ever watchful, giving us the strength to climb higher and higher. We made it to the top of Burroughs Mountain (7000ft) from which we got an amazing view before turning back.


No, we didn’t climb the whole mountain, we started at 6400ft. We did, however, experience the thin air on the roof of the Cascades while navigating narrow trails carved into the side of the incredibly steep rocky mountainside.


Five miles later we were back at camp and ready to start the fire. Hot dogs, sausages, and smores were on the menu, roasted Chestnut style. The night was long, cold, hard, and brought both of us little sleep, but we talked for hours and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

In the early morning we set off again, this time downhill, headed for some alpine lakes. We found a gorgeous lake nestled between pines, mountains, and dragonflies where we stopped for lunch and for rest. By mid afternoon we were headed home, tired, and sore as hell. Jory greeted us with hot chocolate, a fire (this one in a fireplace), and steaks for later, and we spent the rest of the day telling of our treks and recuperating.


Today I woke up early, unexpectedly so after a tiring two days, and posted some pictures on Snapfish (links in the column to the left). Olivia and I walked to the Wedgewood Ale House for lunch where I had a real Buffalo burger (not the endangered kind, nor the Buffalo wings kind) and a local brew. Again, fantastically delicious. We spent the rest of the day on the shore of Lake Washington and watching more Flight of the Conchords. Yeah, she’s definitely hooked. Oh, and I wrote this. And now you’re up to speed. Ta-da!