First Days in Korea–9

March 3, 2000

Yesterday we had to go to the President’s office, to get formal, bound copies of our contracts.  At first it was intimidating, all those men in rows, like government officials.  But then it was funny; instead of standing and waiting our turns, we all scooted along the benches.  When my turn came, the President pointed to my name in English, and smiled at me.  And he read Igor’s (the pianist who will be teaching music) name out loud, because he gets a kick out of those Russian names.

Then he spoke to the faculty, and he spoke warmly, like a father almost.  His voice was soft and very kind.  Once in a while there was, apparently, a little gentle humor.  I understood nothing, of course.  Afterward, I asked Professor Park what he’d said.  He said to be kind to the students, that their parents don’t love them.  Really? I said.  Well, they are a disappointment, because they couldn’t get into the really good universities, in Seoul.  I loved his attitude.

Culture shock list:

1. In my apartment, there is a drain in the bathroom floor.
2. In public places, often the toilets are in the floor.  Sometimes both kinds are available, and you can choose.  Also, toilet paper is a rare item in those bathrooms.  On the plus side, stall doors and walls usually go down to the floor, giving more privacy.
3. Everyone has a cell phone, everywhere.*
4. Many girls wear fancy shoes with heels, even climbling a mountain.
5. There are so many outdoor markets, with vendors selling fresh fruits and vegetables, and various street foods.
6. Coffee shops with odd English names–“People,” “Coffee and Tomato.”
7. Driving is crazy, at least in my town.  People drive as if there are no rules.  Stop lights are not necessarily paid attention to.  Pedestrians beware!  If I see a monk crossing the street, I try to walk next to him or her.  Drivers respect monks!
8. Shoes off indoors, including in restaurants.  People sit on floors, which are often the warmest places, due to ondol, the toasty heating system running under the floor.
9. No tipping!  This is simply wonderful.  You don’t have to tip at restaurants, in taxis, anywhere.
10. Newscasters on TV bow at the end of their show.  So do train conductors at the end of the trip, and they wear gloves.

_______________________

*In 2000, when they were rare in the U.S.

First Days in Korea–7

February 27, 2000, continued

Because of the no-shoes thing, you have to dress in a different order to go out–which feels weird, and really is disconcerting.  You can’t put your shoes on until you’re wearing your coat and hat.  Coming home, you remove your shoes, then take off your coat, then  put away your briefcase and the groceries.

I was doing email in my office for about two hours, and it got cold.  The wind was blowing noisily outside.  Before I left the building, I used one of the “eastern” toilets, in the floor, balancing with one hand on the tile.  I managed okay this time, but I don’t know how it could be done with a dress and pantyhose.  I’m not going to try it.

There was no toilet paper, but I had Kleenex.  And there were no hand towels, but I had my men’s handkerchief, thanks to Janet, who suggested buying a supply of them at Wal Mart before I left.  An excellent suggestion!

I think I am going to like it here–except the young people are so well dressed, sleek, thin, feminine women with beautiful hair and long fitted jackets.  And the ubiquitous cell phones.  Yes, I should have invested in them, as that investment broker at home suggested.

I went to the coffee shop again today.  I love it–a couch to sit on, coffee, nice relaxing atmosphere (except the rock music), people to watch, be with, and a great place to read.

My young waiter spoke English shyly, and it was sweet.  He said, “May I please have your order,” or something; I couldn’t quite hear him.  When I said excuse me, he quickly switched to Korean, something ending in “chuseyo”  (please).  I didn’t understand, so he went back to English.  I said thank you when he brought it.  Smiling, he ventured, “You’re welcome.”

When I left, I decided I had to be brave and try Korean, so  I bought a loaf of bread at the bakery on the corner.  I said “Kamsa hamnida” (thank you) and “Anyong hi keseyo” (goodbye).   This is fun!

I miss my daughter though.

 

First Days in Korea–6

February 27, 2000

Yesterday Dan, the other American professor, took me downtown.  We can get the bus right in front of our apartment.  It stops about every ten minutes, and costs 540 won, about 50 cents.  Arriving downtown in about ten minutes, it goes to the station, which is a big parking lot with a tiny little old building for buying tickets.  It is peopled with old women with bent backs, sitting on their heels; students in uniforms; children;  just everybody.  One man seems to direct the buses and tell them where to pull in, but you have to be careful; it’s so crowded and active there; a bus might back into you if you’re not watching.

We went to the Korea Exchange Bank, where Dan has an account, and opened one for me.  He showed me how to work the ATM.  Then we went for train tickets, passing the outdoor market.  Dan bought fresh strawberries.

The train station was upstairs, in a dark old building with a 1940s movie atmosphere.  Dan pulled out his schedule card, wrote dates and times on paper.  When the clerk took a while and got confused, he blew up and started ranting loudly.  Men came and watched.  It was embarrassing.  He got results, though.    A younger woman took over from the muddling older one.

This place–downtown, etc.–seems ramshackle, haphazard, the buildings stacked together without a plan.  Roads and cars come out from nowhere.  Every time I’ve been in a vehicle so far, I’ve thought, we will be in an accident.

We got tickets to Taejon for our trip to the immigration office.  Then Dan took me to a shop for the pictures I will need to give there.  It was a fun experience, a tiny photo studio up the back stairs, with a nice young guy about twenty-two or so.  He told me–in English–to have a “little smile,” “soft smile.”   He brushed my hair back.

While we waited for the pictures, we went to a coffee shop down the street, upstairs.  It had a nice, quiet atmosphere, with spacious upholstered booths by the window.  I had a Coke, and Dan ordered coffee.  But they give us each a free cup of barley tea, and crackers at first.  With our drinks they brought a little pack of pretzel sticks dipped in chocolate, free.  They served us, but there’s no tipping in Korea!  Our server didn’t speak any English.  She was sweet, though.

We went to the grocery store.  It was pretty confusing, but I got rice, cups, soy sauce, Oreos, etc.  Dan blew up again, at the checkout counter. It was because the girl mistakenly rang up our orders together.   A perfectly understandable mistake.  I saw a girl laugh, embarrassed.  I was freaked out.  But they stayed calm and checked us out separately, and we got a taxi outside, 3,000 won (about $3), and went home.

He’s been helpful to me, and I’m grateful.  But he’s really a hothead; you never know when he’s going to erupt.

First Days in Korea–3

February 24, 2000, 7 p.m.

Random thoughts:  The floor is the warmest place.  I’ll get in shape here, walking up and down the hills to work.  Dr. Park is overworked, and she complains–but cheerfully.  She thinks we work more than at other universities in Korea.  It’s not hard to believe; I’m teaching 21 hours.  She has 14, plus an administrative assignment.

We had a bizarre little English faculty meeting, with some chat in English, some Korean.  At first I was nervous.  Then I realized that I was not expected to participate–and I began to enjoy the positive side of not knowing the language.  It’s kind of fun just sitting there not understanding anything while two colleagues talk.  These faculty meetings are going to be a lot less stressful than the ones at home!

I met Professor Lee, a handsome, tall man, Director of Language Labs; Professor Kim–also some kind of administrator; Professor Kang–Chair of the English Department, pretty, nervous, sarcastic, oddly flirtatious; Dan Lavelle–the returning American professor, dressed in a suit, smelled like booze.

Professor Kang was sophisticated in a grey suit and high heels.  I had chosen a denim jumper and white shirt, which was normal attire at home, but here I felt sloppy.  Professor Park wore a dark-colored pants suit, not sophisticated, but more professional than I.

 

February 25, 2000

Dan, the other American professor (I’m called Professor too, here; I love it!), told me he asked for fewer hours this semester, acknowledging that it means less money.  He needs the time more, he said.  I could really understand that; it’s what I want too!

But they’ve given me a killer schedule, 21 hours of teaching.  I can’t believe they could be so cruel.  Yesterday I thought, this is going to kill me.  How can I do it?  But I didn’t complain.  How can I complain?  I was depressed last night, thinking, I don’t care about travel one bit, just get me out of here!

This is spring term though.  It has to get better.  The weather will get warmer and prettier.  Life will be easier.  Won’t it?

Some of the challenges here are fun.  I pick up words from conversations--Yongeo, English; chigeum, now; onje, when.  Inspired by my former students in the United States, I walk into stores, speak in gestures and one-word sentences.

The post office lady asked me if I wanted coffee.  “Kopi?” she said as I was leaving.  I said no, flustered and taken by surprise.  Coffee at the post office?  Probably she wanted to practice her English though.  Next time I’ll say yes.