Live From The Swiss Hotel

Hey folks,

It's Thursday evening here. Just arrived at the hotel for the night after a solid few hours of continued opening week festivities with the other new teachers.

Turns out we're going to be in this hotel for a bit longer than we anticipated--hopefully we'll all be moved into real apartments by this time next week, but it's all really up in the air for now. That's actually just fine, because it's been a busy week and keeping 90% of my belongings in one solitary spot has been advantageous so far.

I'm still in some utter disbelief that I actually live in Gwangju! This was a city I idealized to no end, visited only on the weekends, only to return to my humble abode out in the sticks where I would spend my weekdays longing for that (surprisingly) cosmopolitan concrete jungle of organized chaos that is civic Gwangju. It's been really nice to show some of the new teachers around, introduce them to to food, and help them get oriented here. It's a hell of a crew, and I'm really happy to have met each and every one of them.

We began training at one of our academy (LCI Kids Club)'s three Gwangju branches on Tuesday, after a Monday full of errands and paperwork. We've been slowly worked into the routine, and are now beginning to lead some of the classes. The first and main observation I have is YIKES. The vast majority of the students at this academy are still in what is, more or less, kindergarten, and their English level is incredible. I'd go so far as to say, to put it in perspective, that I haven't really had a student (of total Korean background) in my previous years (and that includes kindergarten to 6th grade, mind you!) whose English caliber rivals that of these little study machines. Let's call them that, because that's really what they are--English is just a portion of their day, in addition to (including, but not limited to): Chinese language class, Korean language class, math, science, violin lessons, cello lessons, piano lessons, figure skating lessons, taekwondo lessons, and various other extracurriculars intended only for students of this feverishly motivated stature.

It's amazing. It's overwhelming. It's a lot of work. It's more pressure than I'm used to. It necessitates even more self-organization than I'm accustomed to. It's familiar. It's more difficult than expected.

It's a job that, regardless of what I learn in the coming days, will challenge me in ways I cannot understand until the time comes for me to do it all on my own and impose my personality and teachings upon these (mostly) sweet and eager children.

Challenge accepted.

Off to bed. Women's hockey in 3 hours! Need a little sleep if I'm going to get up for that one.
One perk of being in a Korean hotel for another week or so: plenty of free coffee, orange juice, and 100 channels. Let's hope it's on TV!

I've Arrived in Gwangju! (광주에 왔다!)

Morning, folks!

It's currently 10:56 a.m. on Monday morning in Gwangju, South Korea. Pretty happy to be here and utterly shocked that (and I don't want to jinx this, but...) I feel no trace of jet lag.

Flight from Chicago clocked in at just over 13 hours, although it felt like much more. Arrived at Incheon International around 5:00 p.m. Sunday night (Korea time), grabbed the bags, even caught a celebrity sighting, complete with dozens of wailing middle school girls (Lindsay Ross, I'm looking at you!), caught up with an old man holding a card that read "Samuel Hurd" (always wanted to see one of those!), and waited for another teacher arriving on a later flight--who, by the way, is an awesome dude! His name is Steven, and it's his first year in Korea.

We caught a 7:20 p.m. bus to Gwangju, where we were promptly met by the academy director (we think?) and shuttled to a hotel, where we will be staying for a few days. For all you folks familiar with Korea, it's a pretty cheap but clean Love Motel--the kind that, for better or worse (more often than not, worse) reek of garlic, booze, and sex. This one is pretty nice and quiet and odorless, and we are thankful for that.

Had a late dinner of (what else for a first meal?) grilled pig and soju.

Slept hard for 7 hours, which I haven't done in a long time, and here we are. Today, it's off to meet the director and other incoming teachers for lunch--then, we're off to get poked and prodded in every which way at the hospital. Medical checks here are, well, not something to look forward to. It's like Scott Van Pelt says about running: "the best part is when I stop."

Looks like we're free for the day after that. We'll most likely start work tomorrow, but that's just a rough guess for now. Will probably try to explore the city a bit more later today.

That's all for now, folks. Thanks for all the love and support and kind wishes. I'll do my best to make you all very proud throughout the next year. Check back often for updates!

Gwangju is exactly as I remember it. Charming. And an all-around extremely livable city.

Round 3

In 48 hours, I'll board a plane to Chicago. In 63 hours, I'll land at Incheon International. Never before did I really envision a third year in Korea (or a first year, for that matter), but here I am. All packed up. And, true to form, feeling sick as a dog just in time for my new adventure.

And I say adventure because that's what I enjoy so much about Korea: no matter how much you think you have it all figured out, no matter how linguistically apt your tongue, no matter how adventurous your palate, no matter how rampant your wanderlust, or keen your eyes for the details of life in eastern Asia, Korea is always an adventure. 

It's what kept me coming back for a second year, and it's what brings me back for a third. Korea is as exotic as it is familiar, chaotic yet sensible, equal parts disgusting and delicious, repulsive and remarkable, and almost always both forgetful and forgiving. I've spent two years here, two hard years that, looking back on them, feel more like ten. And yet, I have a feeling that, no matter how long I stay, I'll truly never have this place figured out. Try as I may. After two years, this would appear to be a reason to leave. Quite the contrary. At this moment in time, it's a reason to stay.

And staying is not something I've executed well in the last 5 months. Upon returning to the United States last fall, just as I had done the previous fall, I half-heartedly feigned a list in my head, a list of all the faces I should see, places I should go, luxuries I should soak up, foods with which I should regain some level of familiarly, stories I can (and cannot) tell. 

I might as well have shredded that list. These 5 months have been incredible, if only for the fact that there was no such list. There is no set quota of friends and family to see, have a beer with, spend a week with, take a trip with, no food that I'll miss too much over the next year to appease my palate with, no sensible time at which to wake up, sleep, study Korean, read a book, visit friends, go for a run, or do any of the things you do when the vast majority of your friends and family are inevitably busier than you. There's no limit to the number of miles you can log on your vehicle (the blue van has absorbed over 14,000 miles in under 6 months).

There was no list, there was no quota. There were family and friends (especially those of you int the Minneapolis/St.Paul, Madison, Milwaukee, and Chicago regions), and there was almost no sense of time. Anyway, I can sense this getting vaguer as I get softer in my praise for all of you, so it's time to wrap it up. I'm equal parts excited to get back to that combination of familiarity and mystery that is the Republic of Korea and equal parts lamenting and appreciating the fact that I have numerous goodbyes that have and have not yet happened as I leave for another year abroad.

Upon the sudden death of his 27-year old son, a very close family friend of ours from my early adolescence visited my father's house a few weeks ago. Of course, he emotionally lamented his family's loss. More importantly, and amazingly, however, he celebrated the life that his son did live, because it was a life lived for others, a life in which he was able to, for (hopefully) better or worse, affect all of those around him. "There are so many lonely, self-pitying people in this world," he observed, but "he affected everyone around him. He gave himself to people."

A heavy thank-you to all of you who give yourself to me and allow me to give myself to you. It's been amazing to see that, after several years apart, we are all still able to give as much to each other as we ever were. Now it's off to Korea, where I hope to give as much of myself to both the expats and natives of the Korean peninsula.

It's time for Round 3.