Yesterday's Headlines

[yesterdaysheadlines]

123. The Remaining Weeks In Korea

A brief summary of the rest of January: two weeks of staycation for me, followed by a two week staycation for Candiss.  Not a lot to say.  Trip to Cheongju and a pulled wisdom tooth.  Obsessively mailing things home and doing what I can to prepare for leaving Korea, plus the obvious excitement for a trip to Southeast Asia.  Not much else. 

But in the meantime, here are a handful of miscellaneous pictures from the last month-ish in Korea:

My New Year cup of coffee at the cat cafe, while Candiss was at work.

Some things just. don’t. translate.

Kakao characters on the outside of a Dunkin Donuts.

Konglish sign Candiss spotted.

Kuma Bear’s a thing here.

Hangin’ out at the arcade for a bit.

Spring rolls, always a good choice!

A bar we happened to walk past in Daegu telling the U.S. military to act like decent human beings.  (MP = military police, the ones who deal with U.S. military shenanigans so the Korean police don’t have to.)

Looking for a new phone case, Candiss and I found this little gem, complete with a Douglas MacArchur quote.

The view from the dentist’s office, taken just before he took out a wisdom tooth.  I was awake for the whole thing, and the total charge came out to about $13 (USD).

A super awesome pair of Bart Simpson pants that I found walking around Daegu.

And a Home Alone Poster I found somewhere in Daegu.

***

Start of February: two weeks in class.  Why?  Because Korea.  Two weeks to teach, or as my co-teacher off-the-record-ly tells me, we’re not supposed to announce that we’re showing movies, but it will be okay to show movies.  Basically, do everything in your power to create the appearance that you’re working, but don’t actually work the kids because none of this matters.

Seriously, my last two weeks of work.

And what a head-scratcher that is.  How to fill up 45 minutes of time?  What to do, what to do?  And then, it hits me: have the kids make posters about Korea.  It’s brilliant, and takes up the full class (in three out of four second grade classes).  All my third grade classes are cancelled for the two weeks, despite no one actually telling me ahead of time.  Big disappointment that I won’t be able to show the same movie multiple times in a week.

***

Solo mission to Gumi pension office.  The Shin Han Bank next to the office of education.  By myself.  The guy at the office speaks no English.  AND I get stranded for two hours, because of the awkward gap in train times.  Sigh.

No pictures to really explain this mid-afternoon excursion, but this is a pretty good idea of what the city of Gumi looks like.

And here’s a small temple tucked behind the train station that I happened to find while waiting for the train.

***

One last book club: just before stopping, I make my trip to Lotte Department store and I am followed by a woman as soon as I enter the wine department.  Trying to ignore my three dimensional shadow, I finally relent and ask if there are any sales.  And alas!  There are!  A two-for-25,000 sale; the price marked down from 50,000.

Much to my surprise, they’re GIFT wine bottles.  And as such, they must come in a box.  A gift wrapped box.  With a bottle opener (that breaks after its second use) and a wine ring (because that’s a thing).  And the gift wrapping just isn’t enough.  Oh, no, it’s not.  It also comes in a bag.

Cheap wine doesn’t get less cheap because it’s packaged in a box.  Fact.  Also of note: there was a wine opener that broke after about the second or third use.

Enjoying one of our last nights together in Korea.

***

The next day is a small hike in Pohang and some goodbyes with friends.

***

The week of February 9th is the week that officially starts the goodbyes.  First, the letters from students (which completely catch me off guard) start rolling in and keep right on rolling with one last official teachers’ dinner.

One last get together with the Pohang crew.

A group of first grade girls after class.

One last teachers dinner.

My third grade co-teacher and me.

The staff at my school.

One of my favorite kids, a third grader with amazing English.

A group of first grade boys, during the last week of school.

A bunch of first graders after class.

The end of the year ceremony.

The graduation ceremony.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

122. Overnight Trip With Mr. Cheon

The first week of January ends with a day of winter camp, which essentially amounts to:

-Come in at 9

-Find the maintenance guy and have him turn on the electricity in the room

-Watch one scene of a movie at a time

-Do worksheets

-Replay scene if needed

-Keep track of attendance (six kids)

-Let them go at noon.  Or earlier, depending on the day.

-Stick around at school.  Watch TV on my laptop.  Look at grad programs.  Do internet stuff.  Keep the back of my neck warm.  (Collectively called desk warming.)

After class: TV in the heated English office.  Noteworthy: the little red warning-this-has-a-lot-of-caffeine label on the bottom of the Monster can.

Week two of January is the beginning of my staycation.  Still irritated, but accepting of the fact that they changed my dates at the absolute last minute, I really don’t have any plans.  That is, except the overnight trip Mr. Cheon, my vice principal*, has planned...

January 6.  We meet in the teachers’ office and take off from there.  Our first stop is for food at a rest stop.  (Korean rest stops are well taken care of.  They’re furnished with restaurants, convenience stores, and occasionally, batting cages- basically, places you wouldn’t be ashamed of spending more than fifteen minutes.)  Lunch of the day: mandu kimchi stew.  It’s delicious.

Spicy, hot, delicious.

Our first stop is in Yeongcheon, where Mr. Cheon is having his retirement house built.  So far, it’s just a small storage house, with enough furnishing that he can spend an occasional weekend.  The land plot, just next to a small stream, is set and ready to go.

The small plot of land, next to the site of Mr. Cheon’s retirement home.

The stream in front of the house-to-be.

After this stop, we’re off to the mountains to see Bohyeonsan, a famous observatory.  So famous, in fact, that the telescope has earned a spot on the 10,000 won note.  

The back of the 10,000 won note.  The telescope is lightly illustrated on the right.  Worth about $9.

As we head up the mountain, the path gets increasingly icy.  Eventually, we have to turn around, park, and walk.

The drive begins, starting through farmland.

Up the mountain we go!

And at one point, we see an S.U.V. unable to turn around.  Mr. Cheon jumps out and muscles the failing power steering to turn the vehicle around.  It wasn’t until later that I found out that the driver is his sister and not just a random person.  From here, we had to walk the rest of the way.

Eventually, we finish the icy walk and make it to the Korean Astronomy and Space Science Institute.  Our tour is short, and a bit underwhelming, because the telescope feeds into computers.  It’s still cool to climb the ladder and get a close look at it.

A map of the city, pretty self-explanatory.

Star Yeongcheon.

The observatory.

One of the telescopes.

The main telescope.

Look familiar? (Like it might be on the 10,000 won note?)

Another view of the observatory and the telescope.

View looking down from the mountainside.

The evening consists of a small dinner, a short walk to a planetarium, a presentation explaining how to find a few constellations, and a small meal back in the room.  Of note: my first experience with Gwamaegi, some kind of fish dish famous in Pohang.

Dinner.  Also, the floors were heated hotter than any human should have to endure.  It made for a rough night’s sleep.

From left, clockwise: seaweed(?), a cup of spicy pepper paste, dry seaweed, soju, cabbage, a cup of green veggies of some sort, fried chicken, a cup of garlic cloves.  Looks like what I call a meal!

The next morning is an early one.  After breakfast, we’re back on the road at 9 am.  Leaving, Mr. Cheon asks me if I have any plans.  Nope.  Not until 2, when I’ll be going to see Candiss in Pohang.  So he asks me if I’d like to go to Gyeongju.  It’s a trip we’ve been talking about for a while and haven’t had the chance to do.  ‘Sure thing’, I tell him, and away we go for some sightseeing.

The building we spent the night, just as we were getting ready to leave.

Unfortunately, it’s a bit too cold for my brain to process at full speed.  But the pictures are nice.  Bulguksa, a grotto carved into a mountain with a gigantic Buddha statue, and an old observatory wrap up our morning.

Bulguksa Temple

Under the stairs.

The stairs.

Another of me and the temple.

Looking down from the temple.

This pagoda is on the 10 won coin.

A sign for the grotto.  No photos were allowed, so here’s one from Google:

Seokguram Grotto, photo from Wikipedia.

The Buddha statue is in the temple just above my head.

After driving a ways, we came to this giant field with mounds.

Gyeongju Cheomseongdae, the oldest astronomical observatory in East Asia.

Lunch is a mixed rice and sides, and as we’re finishing up he asks me what time I’d like to get back to Dongdaegu to take the train to Waegwan.  My options for train times are 2:05 or 1: 10.   So I tell him 1:10 would be ideal but that I don’t think we’ll have time.  He seems to disagree...

Lunch!

Leaving Gyeongju, the GPS estimates we’ll arrive at 1:14.  Wrong.  Real ETA: 1:06.

This gives me enough time to get back to my place, back travel to Daegu, and catch a bus to see Candiss.

*I say vice principal, but it’s more like vice principal/friend/family member that I didn’t know I had until I came to Korea.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

121. The New Year’s Freeze

After having accepted my scheduling fate (see previous post), I’m able to regain my senses and make the most of the first few days of winter camp.  These really just amount to classes with a lot of leeway.  One of my co-workers did a cooking lesson for a camp class that ended in all the kids making and eating ramen.  The classes do have some real potential to be enjoyable, but there are a lot of classes.  My total class count comes to 39 classes, which is quite a bit of class time, especially when it’s spread over three calendar weeks.  Luckily for me, we’re well stocked with movies, which have a lot of English potential.  But I digress.

The first three days of camp go well, and just as the calendar would have it, Wednesday is New Year’s Eve.  So after my classes let out, I’m headed south to Busan to ring in 2015.  The train dumps me off at the station, and the subway at Haeundae, a district of Busan.

After meeting a few friends and a bunch of acquaintances, the lot of us head out for dinner and drinks.  Another year eventually rings in, and drinks carry us to 3 am.  Finally, we get a bit of shuteye... a bit.

Wake up time: 5 am.  We’re taking the new year head on with a sunrise walk across Busan’s famous Gwangalli Bridge.  Casting off the warmth of the hostel, we venture into the pre-sunrise darkness.  It’s hard to tell just how cold things are, because we’re in the city.

Even after the taxi ride, the morning seems decent- cold, but not unbearable.  And then, the walk begins- not just over a bridge, but the largest bridge over ocean in Korea.  The January cold immediately begins with the onslaught of uninterrupted wind.  One of the coldest experiences of my life is in the two hours that follow.  By the time the sun comes up, I’m ready to go.  Sunrise?  Great.  My feet hurt.

Just getting started...

...not there yet...

...almost...

Just before the actual sunrise.

Thawing at Spa Land and a lunch of Turkish food end the weekend.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

120. Scheduling Frustrations

During late November/early December, my co-teacher had given me the rundown of the winter schedule.  The semester ends the 31st of December, and I’ll desk warm the next week.  Then I’ll have a two week vacation followed by two weeks of supplementary classes.  This is plan A.  Plan A sounds good, because I’m taking a staycation, and I’m given enough time to coordinate with Candiss.  This is easy, and it makes sense.

Then, in the beginning of December, Plan A changes to Plan B.  Plan B now pushes my vacation back to the last two weeks of the month.  Because Korea, that’s why.  No other reason than that.  Frustrated, I send Candiss a text and within an hour she gets her vacation moved to the same two weeks.  Plan B now sounds good, and I get to pat myself on my back for being flexible.  This is still easy, but it does not make sense.

Then, Tuesday, December 16, I’m finishing up my last week of classes, which means a week of 45 minute “lessons” showing Mr. Bean’s Christmas and the Simpsons’ Christmas with Korean subs.  They’re not really lessons, but the kids have taken finals and have a week to kill before the semester ends.  Because Korea, that’s why.  The school day wraps up without a hitch.

Tuesday night- the hitch.  At about 7:30, my stomach starts to feel a bit off.  Not sick, necessarily; just, off.  8:00.  Something isn’t right.  My spaghetti dinner was a normal size, so I know I didn’t eat too much.  9:00.  My stomach is in full rebellion.  Into the throne room I go, puking four times through the course of the night.

Wednesday is rough, but I survive my first two classes.  Just before my third class, my main co-teacher tells me to be careful of a virus going around.  “Weird,” I tell her.  “I got sick last night.”  She immediately tells the head teacher, who announces something in Korean loudly to a teacher across the office.  Uh... what?  Did she just announce that I got sick last night?  Because that’s what it looked like.

My co-teacher goes on to tell me that other teachers and a few students got sick.  They think it was food poisoning, which later turns out to be the case.  Twenty five students, as well as five teachers I’d eaten lunch with the day before.  And because of the food poisoning, they tell me, food will not be served in the cafeteria for the rest of the week.  Really, not a big deal.  I can fend for myself.  They also let me go home early, since afternoon classes have been cancelled for the rest of the week, and I’m not a hundred percent.

Thursday afternoon.  Morning classes, and I stay at my first school since my second school’s kids have finals.  That afternoon, the same teacher who announced my illness, tries to tell me, in rough English, that the plans have changed... uh oh.

Friday morning.  Co-teacher tells me that plans have changed, and I’ll need to ONCE AGAIN change my vacation dates.  Despite working every reasonable angle to keep the vacation dates, my efforts hit a wall.  I give up.  

The look of just... giving... up.

My vacation dates?  Enter Plan C.  The new last day of the semester is the 26th, to avoid having to use the cafeteria.  This actually does make sense.  What doesn’t make sense: before the food poisoning, they wanted winter camp to start immediately after the semester to maximize attendance.  After the food poisoning, they decided that there would be three days of camp, then I need to take my vacation, then there would be two more weeks of camp.  The kids in winter camp wouldn’t be using the cafeteria, so there would be no point (in a rational universe) to keeping the kids out of the building.  Why?  Because, Korea.  The situation is now difficult to the point of pull-my-hair-out-frustration, and it does not make sense.  At.  All.

To our dismay, Candiss and I are now stuck with different dates for vacation, and I have to carry on with winter camp, which basically means a ton of classes with the same group of six kids.

***

Camp actually did wind up being cool.  My kids came out of their shells, and started to show some personality.  The highlight of winter camp wound up being at the start of one of my classes.  I left to print a few things, came back, and saw the six of them playing a Korean game.  So, I spent the first fifteen minutes of that class making them explain it to me in English.  When we finished, I asked if they know a game called Mafia, and I’ve never seen kids get that excited for a game.  It’s that kind of flexibility, paired with real connections, that continues to keep me sane.  It’s the actual teaching that I love; the bureaucracy is just part of the territory.

One of my last lunches with the teachers.  At the end of the day, I know they’re all in the same boat with last minute scheduling changes.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

119. Culture Trip To Tongyeong

Semester number four (the last one) draws down.  With the end of the semester, another culture trip is offered to EPIK teachers who aren’t in their first years.  I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to go.  So, on Wednesday, December 10, Candiss meets me in Waegwan for a relaxed evening.

The next morning, we get out of my apartment early for a train to Daegu.  From the station, we grab a fifteen minute taxi ride and meet with other foreign English teachers.  Regional coordinators (including the one who copy-pasted the response e-mail about corporal punishment) corral us into our designated buses, and away we go for a multi-hour ride south.  Our destination: Tongyeong, a southern city that is almost but not quite an island.

More culture than I could handle.

Our first stop is lunch for bulgogi (beef) stew, followed by a group picture and some sightseeing at Yi Sun-sin Park.  

Bulgogi, Korean style beef.

Mr. Yi was a naval commander who innovated the Korean turtle ship and used them to crush larger navies and go on to have a million statues erected in his honor.  He was basically the boss in the sea (and is regarded as one of the top naval commanders in world history).  The park overseas the sight of one of his naval battles.

Overlooking the sea.

Me and Candiss, photobombed by the Admiral.

This was from a pagoda sitting over the sea.  It took us an unfortunate amount of time to figure out how to get to this vantage point.

From there, we head back to the buses and get off at a cable car.  Up, up, and away, for some more sightseeing.  This time, the sea unfolds before us with a panoramic view of where Admiral Yi did some of his fighting.

And from what one of the signs read, one of the most distant islands is Japan.  We had a hard time figuring out which one.

Me and my buddy Mike, a fellow Midwesterner.

No clue who these characters were, but they looked photo-worthy.

"The Great Battle of Hansan View Point."

The view from the other side... because, why not?

That night, we get to look around a fishery with a lot of information about the seas.

But mainly walked around.

Dinner, and a 10:30 room check follow.

The next morning starts with a cafeteria breakfast that I’m in no mood for.  Candiss, amazing girlfriend that she is, has a convenience store doughnut waiting for me.  

Me and my buddy Micah, also a fellow Midwesterner.

After setting off, the first stop is an apparently famous store for handmade goods.  Prices wind up exceeding the amount of money I’ll make in a year.  The stop mainly just makes for some good pictures.

Crossing the bridge to look around the village.

The bus then drops us off at a harbor to see and go in a replica of the turtle ships.  They’re set up with displays of how the ship would have looked during a battle.  A few pictures later, we’re on our way to explore the village.

A replica turtle ship.

A canon.

A honey bread purchase, a walk through the market, a cup of coffee, and a short hike follow.  And a few more pictures.  The village on the mountain is decorated with art on the buildings, and it makes for a nice walk up.

Shopping for honey bread, the local specialty.

Working our way through the markets.

What's that?  Construction workers?  And their hardhats are where?  That's right, the other side of the picture.  Safety Bob would be disappointed.

Another, less dangerous view of the city.

Some art.

Then it’s back to the bus, and the weekend begins.

Too much culture for Mike this time.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

118. The Konglish Lesson

December comes, and with it, life starts to slow down.  The Korean winter doesn’t play around, and excursions are fewer and further between.  Of note:

School computers have pushed me to the brink of frustration.  At my second school, I don’t have a computer in the office, so I’m restricted to using the computer in the English room.  This would be fine if I could do things like save documents.  Or make the clearance request go away.  Since I can do neither, my patience is routinely tested.  (And this says nothing of the daily ‘not responding’ message my computer at my first school hits me with.)  But I those are just part of the territory, I guess.

...and a brutal territory is it.  This popup hits the screen a few times a class and requires some kind of password to remove.  On top of where, no saves can be made on this computer.  At.  All.

What really keeps me going is the teaching.  During the second week of December, my favorite topic of all the topics I’ve hit so far works its way back around.  The Christmas of the lessons!  The fun lesson!  I get to talk about Konglish!  With a bit of practicing with “How do you say _____ in English?” I turn them loose with some drawing time, to reinforce some of the differences in English between Korea and the U.S.

Their mission: write a Konglish word, draw a picture, and write the English word on the bottom.  Since they’re middle school boys, most of them wind up going for something that was an aside in my previous lesson: vomit.  The Korean word, roughly spelled ‘oh-bite’, is a bastardization of “overeat.”  And it’s used pretty widely.  So, nevermind the lesson material and all the things they could be choosing from.  The choice is pretty much made by the time they get the paper.

To their credit, there winds up being a good selection of drawings; however, the artistic few go straight for ‘oh-bite.’  And just because I’m interested in this stuff, a few of the words are:

Konglish   -   English

Ball pen   -   Ball point pen

Sign pen   -   Felt tip marker (or anything that you’d sign a credit card receipt with)

Autobi~   -   Motorcycle

Hip   -   Butt (This wasn’t in the PowerPoint.  I teach in a middle school.)

Pocketball   -   Pool/Billiards

Bond   -   Glue/super glue

I'm afraid to think of what this artist's hobbies might include.

Band   -   Band-Aid

Hotchkiss   -   Stapler

One Piece   -   Dress

Y Shirt   -   Dress shirt/long sleeve collared shirt

Cunning   -   Cheating

Even the bird...

I'm guessing this one is too much chicken, and I sympathize.

One more?  You got it!

***

A final note: I make absolutely sure that when I’m teaching this lesson that I avoid saying that Konglish words are wrong.  The emphasis here, as I really think it should be, is to explain that there are other words used by native English speakers.  Regional differences are going to happen as Korea (slowly) develops as an English-speaking country.

Like I said, Konglish is everywhere...

"Thank for me." -Dominos

[yesterdaysheadlines]

117. Improvements In Teaching

The once unmanageable class of middle school kids enters the room on a regular Thursday afternoon.  In my arsenal: a PowerPoint, which covers some basic past tense English; a dozen flash cards- printouts of pictures from the presentation; and a three minute video.  But more than the previous three put together, I'm wielding a year a half of experience, the importance of which cannot be overstated.

Since I don't teach from a textbook with my second grade classes this year, I'm left to either download lesson material from the internet and modify as needed, or make my own lessons from scratch.  The former was my previous go-to, and I maintain that there is a lot of good material online.  However, I've committed more time to preparing my own lessons so I have better control over the flow of the class.  This especially includes knowing how long each part of the lesson should take before I enter the classroom.

The bell rings, and they sit.  The lesson starts with Hangman, which is also the last time they all have an even chance of participating (due to the enormous proficiency gap.  The students who study English in their private night schools will happily do most of the in-class speaking if they’re given the chance.)  So, "Mr. Bean pretended to play the drums," slowly gets etched in on the board as the last few students take their seats.  Hangman also doubles as a way for me to pre-teach some of the more difficult lesson material.  In this case, it’s ~to pretend to, and I do my best to explain the concept.  My second grade co-teacher, a young thirty-something who has been giving me feedback for the past year, stands back and lets me explain, translating only if he absolutely needs to.  (He knows teaching ESL is a long term plan of mine, so  we’re on the same page about this essentially being my on the job training).  

Five minutes.

Onto about fifteen practice sentences in the present tense.  Basic drilling.  Repeat, repeat, repeat.  A few of the verbs (e.g. laugh, fly, play, and sing) are easy enough for the lower proficiency students; however, a few verbs are geared toward the moderately advanced demographic (e.g. inflate, stick, and pop).  Then, there are the verbs that I know only the proficient few will understand.  These are phrasal verbs (e.g. throw up, blow up, turn up, sing along with, and pretend to); basically, there’s nothing easy about a verb that comes with a preposition, as I’m sure anyone who has learned English would tell you.

Following the drilling, which is paired with explaining a grab bag of nouns (e.g. life jacket, tongue, eyelids, headphones, and volume), it's time to put these bad boys in the past.  More drilling.

Twenty minutes.

The video: Mr. Bean on a Plane.  Three and a half minutes of Mr. Bean trying to make the kid next to him on a flight feel better.  Strings of physical jokes ending with the kid puking while Mr. Beach is reaching to grab something; he takes the bag from the kid and pops it, expecting that it will make the kid feels better.  The video ends right as he pops it, with the audience in comic disgust at the liquid explosion about to happen.

After the video, it's time for more review: the same sentences, but this time with screen shots from the video.  More drilling mixed with having them recall the sentences.

Thirty minutes.

Now the good part: the game.  A three-teamed running dictation.  Each kid gets a number, 1-11.  I hold up a flash card and say a number.  The kid with the number runs to the board and writes a sentence.  And though I'm sure this game would have been fine last year, here’s where my year and a half experience comes into play.  Earlier in the week I was doing the same lesson with a different class and saw that most of the kids were having problems making sentences; their more advanced teammates were helping them.  Immediately seeing the same problem, I pick up on it and re-route.  Instead of showing the pictures and calling a number, I ask the class to recall the sentence before calling the number.  And it makes all the difference.  More kids are able to put the sentence on the board.

Forty three minutes.

A brief recap of the material.

Forty five minutes.

The bell rings, leaving me with a good feeling: not only did the the lesson go well, it was made better by something I identified and improved upon, but ore of my lessons have been going smoothly.  

And what a good feeling it is that I made this enjoyable for a group of kids.

***

Also, let me not understate the importance of having my co-teacher in the class.  When he can't make it to class, they can be really hard to keep in line.

One more note: the main approach to learning English in Korea is rote memorization.  The first time I saw kids rattle off verb charts, I realized that most of them- even the quiet ones- can do it as quickly as me.  And that’s why I’m here.  Not to teach grammar but to actually use the language.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

116. Bikes Rides And Open Mics

Bike ride takin’, culture trip adventuring, money savin’, open mic playin’, and life livin’. Thus goes November.

The highs of the month (that weren’t mentioned in previous posts):

-An excuse to wear a mustache.

Yes, and please.

-A Thanksgiving feast with friends and the British version of Cards Against Humanity.

Chow time.

-The last hurrah for bike rides.

The harbor in Pohang, as we headed toward the main swimming beach.

Just north of the city.

And one more, because I can.  :-)

-An open mic.  One of many during 2014, and always a good time.

Headed to the open mic.

Jammin' some tunes!

The (unbelievably talented) lineup for the night.

Having a good night together.

The low of the month: selling my bike, because there’s no way in hell I’m even going to think about sending it halfway around the world.

And thus concludes November.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

115. Culture Trippin' And A Field Trip To An Amusement Park

The annual fall field trip was supposed to be on a Friday.  By midweek, the weather started looking less than promising, so they postponed the field trip to Monday, November 3.  Works great for me, given that I’m at my second school on Friday and would have missed it.  So I was given a choice: either A) E-World, a pretty cool amusement park in Daegu, or B) Gyeongju World in Gyeongju.  I’ve only been to the latter once, so my choice was basically made for me.

***

The gym teacher (in blue) and the principal (in black, behind the pillar) rallying the troops for the field trip.

A full Monday of hanging out at an amusement park.  Of note:

A few of my students, approaching me: “Teacha, teacha, come!”

“Uh… where?”

“Water ride!”

Fifty degrees in November.  The only reason my brain files this under ‘Maybe’ instead of ‘Definitely Not,’ is because last year they gave us rain coats.  So I respond: “Okay, maybe.  Rain coats?”

“Okay!” they tell me.

So we stand in the non-line for a log flume on a Monday morning in NOVEMBER.  There’s one batch of kids about to go.  Uh…. rain coats?  Nowhere.  Like hell I’m getting on the ride.

“Uh… sorry guys.  No rain coat,” I explain to the disappointed middle schoolers.  Not seeming to mind, they go without me.  And get drenched.

Nope.  Sorry, guys.  Not today.

***

Overall, a good time, and it’s definitely cool getting to see kids outside of the classroom.

***

This also makes for a nice week, which leads into the weekend of the free culture trip around Pohang.  About two weeks before, Candiss caught wind of a free tour that was supposed to be geared toward (and attended by) mostly foreigners.

An uneventful Friday night leads into an early Saturday morning.  Candiss and I coffee up, fill our stomachs, and head around the corner of her apartment.  From across the five way intersection, we spot about five people waiting for the trip, two of which are a gun-owning, Mormon couple from Utah.  She’s an English teacher, and I don’t know what he does; both are nice enough, but still with that look in their eyes.  Looks like they’ll be our company for the day.

After a short wait, the bus arrives and we board, only to realize just how mistaken we are about the demographic- it's mostly Koreans on the trip.  Early in the morning, the majority votes for announcements in Korean; we’re given just enough explanation of what's going on but still can’t help but feel like we’re missing something.  Oh well, it’s a free trip.

Boarding the culture trip bus!

First stop: Pohang’s Inner Harbor for a short coffee break.  After about a half hour, we’re directed to the docks for a guided boat tour.  

The boats.  Definitely not built to take on waves.  Definitely...

Our tour leads us down a waterway in Pohang, one which we’ve only seen from land.  At some point, the speaking-only-in-Korean-guide pulls out a bag of chips to throw at the seagulls.  And thus begins feeding time.

Pohang's Inner Harbor.

Post-coffee, pre-boat ride.

Pohang's Jukdo Market: what Pohang is known for.

"Mine!  Mine!  Mine!"

This picture was taken just before the guy driving the boat ran us directly into the wake of one of the other tour boats.  The front of the boat tipped down and took on a few inches of water.  Then the engine stalled.  He restarted it, and we didn't drown.  After the fact, we guessed that it was his idea of a joke.

Eventually, we make it to sea, turn around, and return.

Next stop: Yeongildae Beach (previously called Bukbu Beach), the main swimming spot in the summer.  Some festival or other is going on, and it’s a nice chance for Candiss and me to relax for a bit, grab a snack, and walk the length of the beach.

The pagoda at the beach.  One of our favorite spots in Pohang.

A lunch and trip to a Oeosa Temple follow, which makes for some nice pictures.  (It’s roughly pronounced Oh-uh-sah.)

Chow time!

This was just as we started approaching the temple.

Prayer lanterns.

A fountain.

The temple grounds (as well as one of the only decent panoramas I've taken at a temple).

People stack rocks and make wishes.

A butterfly that was also enjoying the afternoon.

Back on the bus.

The real highlight comes after another bus ride: Homigot, the landmark of Pohang.  (‘Ho’ means ‘tiger;’ ‘mi’ means tail; adding those up, Homigot means tiger tail and symbolizes harmony.)  At some point, someone decided that geographically, Korea looks like a tiger.  Apparently, I don’t have the imagination, because I can’t see it.  Not even kind of, but my mind changes immediately when we walk up to the statue.  Unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to see the museum.

Homigot, Pohang.

A tiger in the shape of Korea.

The second of the hand statues.

The trip ends with the bus dropping people off at city hall, then not stopping until well after we’ve missed our stop and have to take a taxi back.  Still a great trip, overall.

***

Completely unrelated:

One of the teachers at my school brought in a newspaper from the 70's, and they paged through it.  Prices of everything were much cheaper a few decades back.  This is an ad for a color TV.  Also of note: there were a lot more Chinese characters used in print back then.  Korean students are still required to learn how to read Chinese characters, because they are the origin of a lot of the Korean language.  I asked one of the students passing by (a kid I really like) if he can read the Chinese characters.  His response?  "No!  I am a Korean boy!"

[yesterdaysheadlines]

114. Dancing With A Flash Mob And Wrestling With My Vice Principal

On Monday, October 20th, I introduce speaking Battleship to one of the third grade classes.  Battleship is 1) a game I normally reserve for the end of the year wind down (which is definitely coming on strong), and 2) a chance for me to make sure the kids understand the material.  

It also gives me time to make a bit of small talk, which I especially enjoy with some of the third grade classes because they’re smaller.  Given the class size, I find I'm able to engage the kids a bit more; they're also the most confident with communicating, and it makes for some funny experiences.

Making small talk with a third grade girl, I ask if she’ll be performing in the upcoming talent show.  She tells me she's going to be doing a flash mob dance and asks if I'll join her and a bunch of other kids from her class.  “Sure thing,” I tell her, not quite sure of what I'm signing up for.  Could be a good laugh.  She tells me they're going to have practice in one of the homerooms for a half hour after lunch; also unsure of how to fully explain it, she tells me something about 'Dokdo.'  Without having time to ask for more information, the class ends.

Lunch finishes, and I make good on my word.  When I walk in, the room has about ten kids watching a YouTube video via projector on the wall.  Two of them are figuring out how to do the dance.  Feeling out my surroundings, I watch more kids enter the room (as well as the girl who told me about it).  So far, everything seems legit.  The dance seems easy enough, and if I can keep a solid position in the middle of the crowd, I can just kind of go with things.  Then the chorus of the song rolls around: “Dokdoneun oori ddang.”  Translation: “Dokdo is Korean land.”  (Literally, “Dokdo is our land.”)  Yep, I’ve signed up for it; no backing out now.  That’s why she mentioned “Dokdo.”  And given my lack of information, all I know is that I’m set to be performing the dance at some point.

Gettin' my dance on!

The practice session goes well, and I’ve got a little over half of the dance down by the time the crowd disperses.  (The easiest part of the dance is during the chorus- during ‘Dokdoneun,’ we point to the ground; during ‘oori,’ we stomp twice; and during ‘ddang,’ we put our hands over our hearts- a symbol of Korean ownership of the land.)

***

So with two more practice sessions, school sports day rolls around, followed by the talent show.  With a bit of work I need to get done, I instead opt to stick around at my desk for part of the morning.  By about 10:30, one of the teachers tells me that the dance will be starting soon and that I should head down.  I happily oblige.

Getting some last minute practice in the teachers' office.

As I make my way to the school’s dirt field, the song begins playing, and the flash mob appears on the field.  By the end of the first verse, I’m among their ranks.  Step, step, kick, step, step, twirl, stomp, stomp, point to the ground, hand on my heart, repeat.  The dance is a good laugh, and as we finish, I learn that we’re not actually going to be performing in the auditorium in front of the school, but this was it.  I’m okay with that.

Track and field day.

And just as it seems like that’s going to be the highlight of my day, I get invited to play a game of basketball with one of the math teachers and a few third graders.  We narrowly lose, but the closeness of the game makes it a really good time.

Takin' them to school.

***

The following day is the day of the talent show in the afternoon and a few sports activities in the morning.  After a bit of walking around and seeing what the kids are up to, Mr. Cheon, my vice principal walks past me to watch some of the students participate in Korean style wrestling.  Korean style wrestling, called (phoenetically) ‘she-rum,’ is similar to Mongolian-style wrestling, and is appealing because a smaller participant is able to take advantage of a larger opponent’s size.  He goes on to explain a bit of the technique and invites me to wrestle him.  Not quite sure of what to do, my best guess is that he actually wants to wrestle, because, as he tells me, he liked doing this when he was younger.  “Sure,” I tell him, desperately wanting neither of us to get hurt.

The gym teacher, who’s overseeing the event, helps me wrap a cloth around my waist and right leg.  Mr. Cheon does the same.  We bow, as per custom, and grab onto one another’s cloth:  

In front of students and a few teachers, the struggle begins- a struggle to throw my opponent to the ground.  I’m immediately struck by the amount of sheer pressure being exerted on the back of my right thigh.  At first, it seems like we’re an even match, despite my complete lack of technique:  

And just as I realize this, I feel my feet slowly lift off the ground; I’m now up on my toes- one of us is going down.  My body starts moving to his right side, and just as it does, I throw whatever weight I can directly at his body:

He loses his footing and crashes to the ground under me.  This makes me the winner, but I immediately make sure he’s okay.  He is.  Laughter ensues, and we stand up for another bout.  The second time around, I quickly lose my grip and wind up on the ground, ending things at 1-1:

Sports day finishes, followed by the school talent show.  However, it’s going to take a lot to top Korean-wrestling with Mr. Cheon.

***

The night of track and field day, the teachers head out for a dinner.  At some point, one of the math teachers breaks out his guitar, and eventually, they put me on the spot to play and sing.  Resistance is futile, so I go for it.  I'm mentioning it, because a cultural difference presents itself as I play: Koreans unwaveringly clap on the strong beats of songs.  Most of the guitar driven music puts that emphasis on the downbeat of the measure (basically meaning clap on the 1 and the 3).  While playing "Down By The Water," by the Decemberists, there's a spot that just sounds better when I strum on the upbeat (the 2 and the 4), and my audience becomes conflicted.  Clap on the downbeat, like they'd been doing?  Or clap on the upbeat, where the emphasis it?  Half goes one way and half goes the other, unable to keep time because of my strumming.  Mind.  Blown.

And here's my principal with the third grade math teacher on the six string.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

113. I Remember Halloween (In Daegu)!

With summer freshly on its way out and fall foliage showing off its colors, Halloween is right around the corner.  And with it, the zombie apocalypse in the streets of Daegu.  (Seriously… you’re probably assuming I’m joking.  I’m not, at least according to the locals.)

After a late afternoon session of applying toilet paper, glue, and (obnoxiously hard to make) fake blood, the afternoon gives way to the evening.  Candiss and I take a train from Waegwan to the Dongdaegu Station for a rendezvous with fellow expats from Daegu, Gyeongbuk Province, and anywhere else close enough to make the trip.

Ready for a night on the town!

Little by little, our numbers grow.  Finally, the four ringleaders give us instructions:

There were a lot more people than I could fit into a single picture, but this pretty much sums things up at this point.

Don’t pass the leaders, stay in character, and there will be a vote by the end of the night for: best costume, best couple, and best walk. Then there are the rules that should be classified as common sense but that have still be ignored by idiots over the years: don’t touch people, no vandalism, etc., etc., etc. With that said, the hoard migrates underground. 

We’ll be (starting at the Dongdaegu Station)...

...here...

 ...and taking the subway three stops over to Daegu Station.  From there we'll walk, a few at a time, down the main stretch of road that passes through the heart of downtown.  The plan is to end the night at a bar and hang out there.  

Right through the heart (and probably brain) of downtown Daegu.

With that said, the hoard migrates underground.

The undead, taking over! (Photo Credit: Jarrod Lyons)

I’m not sure which non-zombies know what, but the first real scare of the night comes just as we hit the bottom of the steps.  A girl of about ten, sitting with her mom, cowers in terror at the sight of a hundred zombies grunting down the stairs.  Ab-so-lute terror, a real portent for the night’s fun.

Reactions among the locals are mixed, but the people who aren’t completely fear-stricken seem to find it funny.  

From left to right: Some guy I don't know; some girl I don’t know; nervous laughter; nervous; and not amused.

One of the big laughs of the night comes just as we exit the subway.  The night security guard, not amused at all, desperately looks for someone he can speak to about what’s going on.  After getting nowhere, he leaves, returning a minute later with a light-up nightstick in case anyone gets out of hand.

And then, the arrival at downtown, scaring people all the way.  Since Halloween is only kind-of-a-thing in Korea, a lot of people are genuinely terrified.  Especially the guy, who, after seeing us, puts his head down and runs at a full sprint through the crowd.  Scaring, having pictures taken, and laughing the whole way, the night ends at a bag drink bar (basically adult Capri Suns).

Mixin' it up with the locals.  The girl in the purple shirt won best walk, dressed as a ajumma, a Korean middle aged woman.

Announcing winners...

***

A few noteworthies:

The girl who decided that her boyfriend should be a zombie as well: she saw us, took out her makeup, and went to town.  Eye shadow (or whatever goes around the eyes), and something-or-other that looked kind of like fake blood.  He was a good sport about it.

For what it was worth, she did a pretty good job given that she used stuff that happened to be in her purse.

***

One of my best scares of the night (and super hats off to the guy who took the picture, who I assume needs to quit his job in pursuit of professional photography).

The look of pure terror.  (Photo Credit: Jarrod Lyons)

***

And the winners of the night:

I have to stand back in awe at how good these costumes were!

***

Candiss went as a mental patient and brought a teddy bear with her as a prop.  At one point, she got tired of carrying it and set it down on the street.  A Korean, at some point, must have see it and given it to a girl Candiss and I both know; she returned it once we got to the bar.  Obviously a teddy bear isn’t worth nearly as much as a phone or wallet that could have actually been missing.  But, I do have a strong feeling that had it been an object of value, the person would have returned it just the same.  Koreans have a reputation for that kind of honesty.

She found her teddy bear!

***

A few more miscellaneous pictures:

The guy in the middle's mouth?  Liquid latex and card stock.  Incredible!  Also, colored contacts were a big thing that night.

Candiss, me, and two guys walking past who wanted their pictures taken.

The hoard!  (Photo Credit: Jarrod Lyons)

***

The following weekend, I played a few shows with a band one of my buddies is in.  On some level, I feel like there should be a cool story with both of them.  There really isn’t.  The pictures are okay though:

Me and my buddy Micah.

The costume contest at Whistler's on Friday night (after the show).

Me with the winner of the costume contest!

Playin' some rock 'n roll in Daegu.

"Can you help me..... occupy my brain?"

[yesterdaysheadlines]

112. More Fall Hiking: Bogyeongsa

A regular week of teaching passes quickly into the dustbins of history.  Friday, October 17, I take the regular trip to Pohang to see Candiss.  

Crossing the street just outside the Dongdaegu Train Station, on my way to the bus terminal.

Dinner is a burger and some wine at the Bistro, a quality western restaurant.  Drinks at Jack Stone follow (as well as me getting my mind completely blown by a card trick shown to me by the bar owner).

My date.  :-)

Saturday morning comes tragically early, but worth every hour of sleep I don't get.  Candiss and I first scramble to catch a city bus out of town to do some fall hiking.  Our options for bus times are limited, so 9:30 it is.  Not a big deal, we figure.  We'll be able to sit and relax.

Wrong.

The bus ride is sixty full minutes of agonizingly hot congestion with no elbow room, the stops-and-starts of a meth head in a traffic jam, and winding turns threatening to hurl passengers to the floor.  All amplified by that extra shot at the bar the night before.

"Packt Like Sardines In A Crusht Tin Bus."

Finally we arrive at Bogyeongsa, a temple known for its twelve waterfalls that pepper the main hiking trail.  One by one, we pass them, stopping to take pictures along the way.

The walk up to the mountain.

Apparently, the area is known for its pumpkins...

...and its distinctly shaped wine bottles.

Vendors that line the road.

A rough map of the waterfalls.

And even with the directions, I'm pretty sure still we missed a few (but after a while they all start to look equally beautiful, so it really wasn't a problem.)

After we made it to one of the waterfalls.

Another one of the waterfalls.

Candiss and me after reaching a small, out of the way hermitage. 

A stone Buddha statue at the hermitage.

Looking out over the river.

Looking away from the river.  Just before we reached this rock platform, we passed a family sitting down for lunch: a man, a woman, and school-aged girls.  The dad kept insisting that the daughter try to speak to us in English, and the poor girl just kind of clammed up having been put on the spot.

One more waterfall.

And a temple at the bottom of the mountain.

Grabbing a bite to eat just before SPRINTING back down the hill to catch the return bus.

Sunday wraps up with jamming with a few buddies who have asked me to play some songs with them for their upcoming Halloween shows in Pohang and Daegu.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

111. Hiking (Part Of) Mt. Seorak

Given the mountainous geography of Korea, fall makes for some amazing hiking; so, Candiss and I set aside a three day weekend to visit the largest mountain in continental South Korea.  (The largest is Baekdusan in North Korea; number two is Hallasan, in southern Jeju Island; number three is Seoraksan, in Gangwon province, South Korea.  Also, san in this context means mountain, so from here on out, it’ll be Mt. Seorak.)

Friday, October 3, is Foundation Day, a holiday commemorating the foundation of the first Republic of Korea.  And I get a day off work.  So, with a Thursday afternoon trip to Pohang, the weekend sets itself up nicely for a trip north to Mt. Seorak.

A multiple-hour, Friday morning, bus ride brings us to Sokcho, a city in Gangwon Province.  After getting directions to our pension stay, we set up shop in the dome park- the place we’ll be staying.

Located in what looks like a trailer park and designed like a fully furnished, non-ice igloo, our dome is everything we’ll need for the night.  Heat, check.  Running water, check.  Everything is good.  The real surprise comes when we realize how the sound echoes off the ceiling, making for the audio equivalent of a carnival mirror.  (During conversations, person A and person B can be speaking at a normal volume; person A can walk around the room, and in certain spots around the room, person B will essentially hear surround sound, with the ceiling as a speaker.  It’s insane.  And entertaining.)

The dome park.

Our dome, which doesn't look big.

From the inside.

But that all aside, grocery shopping just sort of happens, followed by some grilled beef.  Topped with drinks, friends, and the British version of Cards Against Humanity, the night is good.

Because I can.

***

The next morning gets off to a slow start; but we do finally make it to Mt. Seorak.  Our pace is casual, the sights are amazing, and the mountain air is refreshing.  The walk is a gentle incline up the side up the base of the mountain.

Our path quickly converges with a river; eventually, a bridge over the river makes for a great vantage point for pictures.

Given that the sun is a few hours past the zenith and the trail will be getting steeper, we opt for a bite to eat, which also makes for a good spot to turn around.  Our hike winds up being 13 km,  enough to exhaust everyone.

On our way to the mountain.

A pagoda on the way to the base.

Of note: I occasionally mention experiencing things that are out of the ordinary, but here is a perfect example.  Walking up to the base of the third largest mountain in the Koreas, we saw a girl with heels and band-aids on her ankles.

Here's a Buddha statue, as well as a good example of Korean hiking gear.  I can only assume the colors are to make it easy to find anyone who gets lost.

A dragon staircase.

Me and Buddha.

An emergency sign.  (The Korean number for police is 1-1-9.)

John, Candiss, me, and Charlie.

To give some sense of persepective, there were climbers on the mountain.  There's a person just under the peak up there.

Looking back down.

Candiss and me.

I think this speaks for itself.  I just like the drawing.

***

A car ride back with my Waegwan friends ends the trip to Seoraksan, a trip everyone in Korea should take.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

110. Co-teaching

In the year and a half that I've been in Korea, I've now taught with seven (count 'em, seven) Korean English teachers, and no amount of learning about Korean culture could have prepared me for the differences between them.  I mean, sure there are some similarities, most of which slowly reveal themselves, and it’s easy to chalk those up to the culture; but, adjusting for those differences, it initially took me a while to get a feel for what my co-workers are really like.  Then, throw in thirty three Korean middle school students looking to me to lead a lesson (or talk to whoever is around them) and let chill for forty five minutes.  All this really just amounts to a cocktail of the unexpected; and it’s constantly kept me on my toes.

***

The first day I walked into class, the brave mask I wore hid my nervousness.  My second grade co-teacher at the time wielded a stick (though rarely used it for more than a light tap), and she kept order.  The kids stayed quiet, and as a result, lessons seemed good.  Rarely did a class finish that left me thinking, ‘oooh that didn't go well.’  When I asked for her feedback, she would always say things like, "I think you're doing a good job," and "I like your classes."  Lesson material was based on the speaking sections in the textbook, and she gave me her blessings to use outside sources, which I found to be a good arrangement.  Sometimes the book material can be a bit hard to digest, so I’ve been able to keep lesson material flexible.  (Completely unrelated: she was also the warmest of the people I've taught with- a genuinely caring person, she had amazing relationships with the students.)

This was at a teachers' dinner just before she left.

***

She left at the end of August, after my first full semester in Korea.  Her replacement, a man in this early thirties, immediately struck me as down to earth and approachable- the type of person I'd happily meet up with on a Saturday night.  By contrast, he didn't wield a stick; he didn't like the idea, and later explained to me that when was a kid he had an old-school teacher who knocked him hard in the gut.  Since then, he explained, he's been against hitting kids; backed against a culture that is passively accepting of corporal punishment, this makes him look like a saint.

The rest of the year, my second grade classes went smoothly.  Then year two started, and with it came a new second grade textbook.  My new co-teacher and I agreed the book material wasn’t that great for speaking (see below).  The new textbook also meant new lessons.  Trying my best to take material from the book and do what I could with it, I stuck to a formula that worked the first year.  Commence failed lessons.  After about the first month, I found every possible way to plan a good looking lesson that would either: a) lose students' interest, b) lose control of the flow of class, and/or c) clearly not get the message across.  It was around this time that he recommended that I stop teaching material from the book altogether.  After all, we agreed, the material was unnatural sounding at best, and unusable at worst.  

The grammar point: "They were reviewing last minute details so as not to fail."  Talk about practical.

But something had to give.  My new co-teacher, about the same age as his predecessor, has been doing this a lot longer than me.  So, I reasoned, I could learn a lot from him.  I asked my new co-teacher for his feedback, opinions, thoughts, and advice, and he was happy to oblige.  And then the help began: sometimes his pointers came before class.  Sometimes it came in the middle of class, as things were falling apart; more times than not, it was hard to hear that no, in fact, the lesson idea wasn’t the greatest despite it working the year before.  Sometimes, a good idea to me was not a good idea to him, for reasons that he was happy to explain.  He seemed sympathetic to my native-teacher-situation, especially now that he asked me not to teach from the book.  It took finishing the semester to really step back and figure out how the hell things were going to change.  But I still couldn’t understand how things could have been so radically different between two presumably similar groups of second grade middle school students.

Between semesters three and four, he asked me to plan a lesson on volunteering.  So I did what I could with a subject I didn’t think second graders would care much about.  I made the lessons from scratch, and made sure the lessons assumed absolutely no prior English knowledge.  Taking things from there, some-crazy-how, the first lesson went well.  Modifying as I went, the first three weeks of material on volunteering went way better than I expected; the disrupters in class chilled out, participation increased, and lessons flowed more smoothly than when I had left off.  

Then… the light clicked on.  Sure it was a different group of second grade kids than last year, but both groups of kids probably didn’t understand lesson material.  However, this year, my stickless co-teacher didn't follow the Law of Club and Fang, and as a result, the kids became more rowdier.  A class that is quiet during the lesson is not always the same as a class that understands the lesson, as I was in the process of learning first hand.  The differences between both second grade co-teachers made all the difference.

***

The other five co-teachers have all had different approaches to teaching classes, and there have been other examples of these differences.  This happens to be the one that stands out the most from my time in Korea thus far.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

109. LASIK: The Day They Blasted My Eyeballs With Laser Beams

August 12, 2014.  Sitting on a beach in Busan, I messaged my buddy Brad about information regarding Lasik eye surgery.  He had the procedure a few months ago and seemed happy with the results, and he was the one with the information.  So, with a long weekend in the beginning of September, I identified my time to strike.

I placed my phone call.  The eye clinic he was recommending was Good Doctors (좋은 의사들), a small office on the eighth floor of the building next to Starbucks across the street from Pohang City Hall.  Before I had the chance to get more information from him, he offered to have his co-teacher call to set up a consultation for me.  And just like that, my appointment was made.  (The only stipulation being that I not wear contacts for the week prior; wanting to be on the safe side, I made upped it to just over two weeks.)

Pohang City Hall.  Turn to 4 o'clock, and you'll see...

...this.  The bottom left is Starbucks.  Just behind the branch in the upper right of the building reads: 좋은 의사들.

Finally, the day of judgment arrived.  The morning of August 30, Candiss and I tracked down the eye clinic, which wasn’t hard to find.  After being told they didn’t have time for us, taking a taxi back to Candiss’ apartment, taking a taxi back to the clinic, and barely communicating with the non-English speaking receptionist, the 2:00 appointment began.

It started like a normal eye checkup: the dreaded eye puff test, a color blind test (which I passed with flying colors), a vision chart analysis, a dozen rounds of  look-into-this-light-while-we-take-pictures-of-your-eye, and a meeting with the English-speaking doctor.  Only one test really set this appointment apart from others I’ve had: the tear test.  The doctor took a strip of paper, folded it into an “L,” stuck the shorter end on my eyeball, and had my close my eyes (keeping the paper in place with my eyelids).  Thirty-ish seconds of paper poking my eyeballs (which felt like an eternity of mild discomfort) revealed, that yes, in fact, my eyes produced enough tears to be okay for surgery.  Apparently, some people experience dry eyes after surgery, and they had to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

He said that I’d be a good candidate for Lasik and went on to explain the procedure.  First, a pressure ring would be placed over my eye.  A blade would slice a flap over my cornea.  Then, he would pull the flap away.  A laser beam would reshape my cornea, and he would put the flap back in place.  Then repeat.  1950’s science fiction, meet my eyeballs- this is really happening

The consultation finished a little over two hours later, and my eyes were dilated from pre-photo session eye drops.  But, I was a week away from surgery.  One week!

***

The morning of September 6 bleeds into the afternoon, and I find myself back at Good Doctors.  The same receptionist greets Candiss and me with a smile and a complimentary apple juice.  Finally, the doctor makes his appearance.  Thirty minutes of pre-consultation follow (a puff test, a vision test, a few more questions, a few instructions), and the time for surgery arrives.

The nurse brings me from the waiting room to a small antechamber with two recliners.  She dresses me in a light blue gown and hands me a Minnie Mouse pillow.  A few minutes, which also seem like forever, pass and they beckon me into the operating room.

Me and Minnie!

The room is as cool as they told me it would be on a 9 o’clock phone call the night before; I’m suddenly glad I have a long sleeve shirt.  Empty pockets and clammy hands, I position myself on the bed to their liking.  Back I go, reclining until I’m horizontal.

First, the nurse places a cloth over my face and swings a giant gray apparatus over me.  I suddenly become aware of what feels like a beanbag pillow on either side of my head, keeping me in position.  A drop in my right eye, then the pressure ring.  Vision in my right eye goes offline.  Completely gray.  Nothing.  “Look at the light,” I hear.  Then a countdown.  The giant apparatus disappears and vision in my right eye returns.  (At this point things through my right eye look as if they have a wash of gray over them.)  The doctor repeats the steps with the other eye.  “The first step is complete,” the doctor assures me.

Next, he lowers a circular piece of tape onto my right eye lid.  Pulling it slightly up, he fastens it in place and does the same for the skin just below my eye.  With my eye in place, I can see him lower a metal ring over my eye to keep it in place.  Through my grayed vision, I can see the metal hook.  One, two, three, four movements, and the light I’m looking at doesn’t just look grayed out; it looks as if I were underwater.  Then I hear the rapid ticks of the laser.  A countdown.  Then I see a gray blur (through underwater vision) approach my eye.  After a few movements, my vision comes back to what it was just before the laser.  A white utensil, which seems to be smoothing my corneal flap, presses against my eye.  And it’s done.  After repeating the process for the left eye, surgery is complete.

Thirty minutes after being given the Minnie Mouse pillow, I’m on my way to recovery.  After another short meeting with the doctor, they give me eye drops and plastic covers to tape over my eyes when I sleep (for the next five nights).

The rest of the day is spent not looking at things for extended periods of time.  However, by the time the day ends I’m able to use my eyes enough to finish two card games with Candiss, as well as watch a documentary for a few minutes at a time.  Talk about a quick recovery.

***

Four days after the operation, I have zero regrets.  My night vision is fine; there are slight halos, but it would be no different than if a mild fog hung in the air.  I felt no pain during surgery, and the mild discomfort (mostly from the metal rings keeping my eyes in place) faded after a few seconds during surgery.  So to anyone considering Lasik, I completely recommend it.

***

Three month after the operation, my eyes are good.  No more contacts, no more glasses, no more anything.  (Except when my nearsighted vision starts to go bad when I hit the forty mark, which is universal.)  For the mean time, my distance vision is good- as good as when I previously wore contacts.  The night vision halos have gotten consistently smaller and less noticeable; this is going to continue for about six more months, the doctor told me during my last visit.

***

My eye during surgery.  (Candiss is a champ for taking this.  Apparently, photos are a no-no, and they told her not to.)

My eye during surgery.  I asked ahead of time if I could take this picture, and they gave me the green light.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

108. The End Of August

Approaching the main intersection in Waegwan, my city.

Playing screen golf- the thing to do on a Thursday night!

I shot a miracle birdie on the eighth hole.  First and only time that's ever happened!

Fresh off an awesome two weeks with my sister and a few days on Ulleungdo, August is winding down.  The heat, finally and reluctantly, starts to break.  With the semester’s end comes goodbyes for people not renewing their contracts.  Among them are two amazing people that have become good friends: Ryan and Jessica, from Scotland and the U.S., respectively.

Waiting for the train to Daegu.

Just outside the Daegu Station.

A bunch of hats for sale in downtown Daegu.  The had to the left of the plain blue hat says "waegookin," the Korean word for foreigner.

Their goodbye party ends the way one should: with a night out in Daegu, complete with bag drinks and a noraebang.  Literally meaning “singing room,” the noraebang is the Korean approach to a night out.  Patrons pay per hour for a disco-ed out room with snacks, lights, microphones, a monitor, tambourines (if you’re lucky), an enormous songbook, and enough sofa room to fit a small army.  Alcohol is sold at the counter, which lies just outside the soundproofed party room.  Good, bad, or ugly, a trip to the noraebang is always an experience.

Noraebangin' the night away.

It's only a matter of time before someone's belting out some Bolton...

...or jammin' out on the table.

Singin' the night away.

"Number of the Beast"

And because of the train schedule, our options for return trains are 12:43 or 4 am.  It’s not much of a choice that we take the 4 train.

The aftermath.

***

Semester number four rolls around during the last week of August, kicking off with a ceremony.  The retiring principal gives a presentation of his life accomplishments; a handful of students perform song and dance; and the student body looks on.

The principal about to give a speech.

A student performance.

The teachers’ dinner the night of the ceremony is a buffet at a banquet hall located between mountains, somewhere near Daegu.  A few teachers are moving schools, because contracts last four years.  Goodbyes are said, and the dinner wraps up.

A pre-dinner speech.

***

The following weekend is a weekend of bike rides around Pohang, a guaranteed good time.  Stories don’t do justice to these bike rides; pictures just have to suffice.

My beautiful girlfriend...

and me.

This is a canal that runs through part of Pohang.

The Pohang Inner Harbor at night.

Me being a sucker for the low light setting on my camera.

We had to take an elevator up.  This is the canal from above.

We ran into a local singing performance by the sea.  This is Pohang's Songdo Beach.

Our bike ride the next day took us north, along the sea.

A church we passed.

I just thought the canoe looked cool.

One of my favorite parts of Pohang, the pagoda on Bukbu (Yeongildae) Beach.

Of note: one of the bike rides brought us to the eye clinic for a pre-Lasik appointment.  More on that to come...

Looking down from the eye clinic.

My ride home.

[yesterdaysheadlines]

107. Ulleungdo Culture Trip Part 2

Tuesday morning started with a buffet-style cafeteria breakfast and a bus ride around the island, stopping at rock structures named after animals: Turtle Rock, Elephant Rock, and Lion Rock stood out the most (among others).  

A buffet of Korean food for breakfast... not my first choice.

Turtle Rock.

Me and my buddy John.

Then, because a rock had fallen down the mountain and onto the sea highway, the bus re-routed through the inland roads.  Our next stop was at a store full of pumpkin taffies, the local specialty of Ulleungdo.

These are Korean taffies, which, as I learned, share the same word as an expletive.  After the South Korean soccer team lost in the World Cup tournament, an angry fan threw these taffies at the team, basically giving them the middle finger.

A brief hike followed.  We climbed a small mountain, crossed a bridge, and snapped photos.  

After we climbed a big structure to do some hiking.

Getting a look around.

Still getting a look around.

Me and two buddies, Tom and John.

The island looks amazing.

Working our way back down.

Following the hike, we stopped in what looked like a lighthouse that was too small to be a lighthouse.  

Not quite sure what we were in for...

Still not quite sure...

It was to everyone's surprise that we were able to walk six meters below the surface of the water to an observation room.  Operators had left fish food just outside the windows, which made for some good pictures of feeding time.

Feeding time!

Our Tuesday lunch was bibimbap at Nari Village, what appeared to be the flattest land on the island (and maybe the only flat land).  After lunch, we were brought to the bottom of a hiking trail so we could view the island from an observatory.  While I'm sure the sights would have been stunning, the day's fog reduced visibility to under a hundred feet.  A group photo with a man from Korean Broadcasting System (KBS), two hot cups of coffee, and a bulgogi dinner followed.

Lunch: bibimbap, a mixed rice dish.

A water fountain, shaped like a body part, just outside the restaurant.  

Looking around the village.

Someone in charge decided to bring us up a giant hill to this point.  This is where John and I waited while most of the group climbed higher to an observation point.  At this point, all I wanted was coffee.

There were some wild roses that grew along the path.  Best picture I took while we went to the observation point. 

The harbor where we took a group picture.

Our evening was spent in one of the most informative lectures of my adult life.  The same international lawyer from the night before presented the legal dimensions of the Dokdo issue.  He laid out Japan's claim to the islands, which are based on the legal concept of terra nullius, a concept that states that if land isn't owned by a country, any country may claim it.  Japan argues that Dokdo wasn't owned by anyone prior to 1905, when Japan used the islands during its war with Russia.  After annexing Korea for 35 years, Japan wasn't forced (via a San Francisco peace treaty) to give Dokdo to Korea; therefore, they claim, the islands belongs to Japan.  (And in fairness to the Japanese claim, there really is no way to decide who owns what land, based on one given point in history.)

This guy knew his stuff inside and out.  An amazing lecture.

Despite less than ideal weather for the first two days, good news arrived Tuesday night after the lecture: a trip to Dokdo was to follow in the morning.  And so with a 5:00 wake up call, I grabbed breakfast and got to my bus.  After the ride to the ferry terminal, we boarded and sat for two turbulent hours to through the East Sea.  Unfortunately, due to the rough waters, we weren't able to make land.  A half hour of taking pictures from the deck was the closest we were able to get to the disputed territory in east Asia.  Two hours back to Ulleungdo, three hours back to Pohang, and an hour and a half bus to Daegu ended my Ulleungdo trip.

Boarding the ferry for Dokdo.

Just before falling asleep.

Dokdo!

Overall, this was a solid trip to Ulleungdo, and I recommend it to anyone thinking of going.

As we were getting ready to board the ferry back.

***

Postscript: Before the trip, I’d asked my co-teacher if I’d have to write an essay for the trip.  She said no.  I came back from the trip.  Then she said I’d have to write an essay by the middle of the following week.  Then, later in the day, she said it would be due in less than 48 hours- less time than I spent on the trip.  Sigh.  (On a positive note, the essay I wrote became the precursor to this blog.)

***

And just because I really enjoy keeping an eye out for Konglish anything...

Luckily, I wasn't concerned.  I had no need to touch.