coffee by James

Last weekend I proposed to my girlfriend of two years, Emjay.

This may come as no surprise to many of you, as we have been talking about marriage for a long while. Emjay’s mother, for example, was researching weddings halls for this summer before I’d even discussed it with her. In this light a proposal was more of a formality than a big step.

To others, this may be more of a surprise. After all, we’ve only been together for two years, she’s Korean and I’m British, and I’m only twenty two years old, almost a decade younger than some of the average marriage ages I’ve been hearing of lately. For this reason the news has even taken the form of shock. Surely it’s too early… You should wait!

I’m not here to address these questions now. I will only say that I’m confident that I love Emjay, that she loves me and, much more importantly, that we are both committed to each other and our lives with similar values and expectations. We both intend to work very hard at making what I expect to be a very rough ride as smooth as possible, starting with getting her father’s consent to our marriage. I don’t really consider us engaged until then.

Instead, I want to give you a short account of how it happened. I want to share with you the excitement of the moment and the nervousness leading up to it. The consequences will, naturally, come later!

Last Sunday, the twentieth of February, was the second anniversary of the day Emjay and I started dating. Because we’d already been talking about marriage I was worried that she might expect a proposal that evening, so I settled on surprising her the evening beforehand. However, this was not to be easy, as she was away on a business trip (on a pepper farm – team building) until eight in the evening.

Assuming this to be accurate I sat waiting in a cafe that a friend had introduced to me on the outskirts of Ilsan, the satellite city that Emjay and I often travel to in order to meet. I had invited some friends to drink coffee before her arrival, partly to support the cafe (which had only been open two months), but mostly in the hope of calming my nerves. We sat in a large alcove separated from the rest of the space so that without going to look you wouldn’t imagine it to exist. This quietly chatting company enhanced the atmosphere of the already splendidly (and no doubt expensively) decorated coffee house with a bubbling excitement.

I had arranged for Emjay’s mother to pick her up from wherever she happened to be left by her company and drive her to my location. This eventually happened at around seven, an hour earlier than planned. It wasn’t a matter of planning that I was prepared for this.

On false pretenses of an important errand Emjay’s mother drove her to the church we will soon be attending together, just a ten minute walk from where I was sat in my shiny three piece suit. Upon arrival there she was handed a bag with the outfit I had encouraged her into buying to wear for our anniversary, but which was actually intended for our meeting a short drive later. No doubt sensing something was strange she complied with her mother’s firm request, and returned to the car a little later to find one of her favourite Alicia Keys songs playing.

At this point, despite being a two minute drive from the cafe, Emjay’s mother began to drive without aim around town for a quarter of an hour. The first song finished, and Emjay instantly recognised the voice of another friend’s soft Korean voice through the radio, having been recorded at my request earlier in the week. Two carefully selected songs followed, during which Emjay was given an envelope which contained a short letter addressed to her, confirming her suspicions that I was behind her journey without giving away the reason for it.

As if she wasn’t confused and nervous enough the radio show continued into a short shout out, where my friend gave some time to congratulate us on our second anniversary and read out another message I had for her. Another two songs followed, all of which had been picked especially with her in mind.

She later told me she was at the point of crying, but held back because her mother was with her.

In the middle of the last song, exactly as planned, she turned up to the back door of the cafe. Walking through the door she caught a glimpse of our friends, who had been soaking up all my excess nervous energy and started at seeing her. Though almost stopping to say hello Emjay sailed past and found the corner where I was waiting for her.

Sitting her down with a cup of strong black coffee, we passed a little time talking about her unexpected journey so far and, eventually, silhouetted by the strong yet gentle light diffused through a wall of traditional Korean paper, and encouraged on by a mellow and rising classical score, I dropped to one knee and offered up the diamond necklace I had chosen only days before.

After a clumsily worded proposal she replied, in awkward nervousness “What should I say?”.

And then after a long moment and a few more words she said the right thing, and we were engaged.

Summer in the City

While I’ve been pondering the task of how to explain my response to Korean food in the last year a lot has happened. I’ve left England and returned to Korea, stopped planying and returned to work, and have also begun to sweat enough to fill a small paddling pool with warm, satly drops of agony. I’d heard that the Korean summer is hot, and whoever said that was right. However, the many people who have complained about this to me don’t have the advantage I have, and so I will postpone my thoughts on food to entertain thoughts about the weather instead.

My advantage is this: I was born in the United Kingdom. You see, in the UK, every moment of sun counts, and every ounce of warmth we can grasp is taken full advantage of. I remember an advert on TV a while back (though as with all good adverts I can’t remember what it was for) in which British people were sat in their offices, at home or wherever they happened to be, looking miserably out of their windows. The scene changed dramatatically when the clouds parted and the Great British Summer began. People ran out of their offices, stripped down to their pre-prepared swimsuits and flooded every spot of beach, park and road with bare, pale skin. As the sun became patchy, groups of people were seen moving with it to keep out of the shade, and towards the end of the advert the sun finally disappeared and went back to their offices. And that was summer. No doubt half of them were already burnt.

We just don’t get very much sun. Usually.

And so, when I’m fronted with a wall of heat when I walk out of my classroom in the evening, I smile. When I sit in a restaurant and look out of the window I think it looks like jumper weather outside, and then mentally leap for joy that (social acceptability aside) I could happily walk aruond naked without a chill. When I get back to my room and find it’s even hotter than outside, I turn on the fan and get on with it. Later, when I wander around my apartment doing menial chores such as ironing, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that my back has turned into a waterfall and a large pool has formed around my feet.

Though this sounds a little offputting, I find it much preferable to making the most of a few moments of sun, or the gradual frost that would have crept around every surface of my apartment in winter had I not spent as much as I did on heating, keeping the temperature roughly similar to that of a small furnace.

And it will be over soon, too. In just five days it will mark exactly a year since I first arrived in Korea, and by that time last year I’d just missed the worst of the summer and everything was cooling to an altogether much more pleasant state.

I can’t wait for that again. If you ever come to Korea, make it in Autumn. You will never experience better weather!

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Shock!

So it turns out I’m in England. I’ve completed my year-long contract teaching in Korea and am back in the country for all of two weeks, before heading back to Korea for another full year. I’ve signed a new contract, had a full health check (in which I appear to have gained 7kg, shrunk very slightly and gone marginally blinder in one eye) and have been promoted two pay levels. Unfortunately I’m not sure the pay rise will cover my eye. But then, their eye check was silly anyway…

What you are reading is intended to represent very vague and slightly profound observations about the last year, some answers to the questions I asked myself before my arrival in Korea, and some finer details about my holiday to the UK, as I hope to get this written on one of my many train journeys around the country. I may even be writing this on my way to see you…

Disclaimer: That doesn’t neccessarily mean they wil all be posted within the next two weeks, and uploads are subject to availability.

One of the biggest things I worried about on my way to Korea was culture shock. Having had many international friends spending a year with me at university I observed first hand the sheer volume of tears, ups, and downs that being away from everything you’ve known for so long can bring. The way this was presented to me was thus: Go abroad. Marvel at the difference. Find it interesting. Then very interesting. Then love it, condemning your own country. Then start missing your country. Then hate where you are and wish you were home. Then find a happy middle ground. This can take between three and nine months, so I gathered.

However I lay down the auspicious claim that I don’t think I experienced culture shock at all, at least, not in any major way. I won’t deny that there have been ups and downs in my year, and I’ve certainly made slight adjustments to my intake of Korean langauge and culture according to how comfortable I felt being in Korea, however my love for the country has only increased. Perhaps having a Korean girlfriend negated many of the problems I might have faced. Or am I just suited for international living? I fear the next couple of weeks hold this answer to this.

Feeling that I have escaped the flames of cross-cultural unhappiness I feel that my time has come, and I’m due a large dose of unhappiness. I felt that this may pop up as soon as I set foot off of the plane at Heathrow, however was surprised to find that everything I’d known about England had stayed almost exactly the same, and the only shock was that I didn’t need a jumper.

So then the next thought is that if I don’t experience any problems here, they will probably pile up for my return to Korea. After all, the two countries I’ve resided in are two very different worlds (though I earnestly claimed not to notice many differences at first) and one can’t help but compare. But this is where I think the problem of culture shock may arise.

If you’re heading abroad or coming back home I think the biggest danger that you will face is what you were taught to do throughout your childhood: Compare and Contrast. Explain with reference to x. Differentiate n with respect to y. Or if school seems like a long time ago, perhaps “Write me a detailed report on this by 5pm tonight”. The key to failing in cross cultural life is comparison. In fact, not just comparison, but judgement.

Of course, it is healthy to think about culture, and the differences, similarities and problems that can occur. There is much value in this and I’ve learnt a lot about myself by doing so. However, as soon as you begin to see something in one culture as slightly better than the other, you risk resentment towards that which you consider worse. Don’t look back at where you’ve come from or where your going, but accept where you are. I’ve heard it said many times, but it’s not wrong, it’s just different.

I hope I can apply that to the next month of my life.

Taste The Pain (The Battle Of Evermore)

After weeks, nay, months of what has felt like a great big Holiday I have finally returned to school. The expectations I had of this were like that which any working man has felt over returning to work after too much rest: an obscure mix of relief (at having something tangible and long-term to sink my teeth back into) and distress (at having to regularly get out of bed and stick to inflexible and ever-nearing deadlines), in my case specially blended together in a pot of unfamiliarity. I guess it’s something like that feeling of suddenly, desperately needing the toilet which I keep inexplicably getting halfway through the ten minute route I frequent between church and the subway station, only to have it disappear as soon as I get to a toilet.

Honestly, I didn’t expect to have to navigate an experience quite like the initial flux of disorientation that moving to this country brought again. Despite my silent protests the new year insisted on the invasion of many new teachers and the expectations of just over one hundred new students upon my abilities within the space of a few days. No-one explained to me what would happen, how it would happen and what part I would have to take in any of it. I’m happy to say that this didn’t phase me! Unlike my attitude upon arrival in Korea, the brunt of which was taken on an inexperienced back foot, I decided to storm straight into the week with a confident stride and a pushy attitude so that we could all Get Things Done. I feel it’s gone pretty well, and my autocratic classroom revolution has been largely accepted.

Here’s how the “New Year, New Rules” Campaign went…

Note: Please recognise that, whilst most of the below is based upon real events there may be a little exaggeration and added frilling here and there.

Day 1, Monday: Public Holiday due to Independence (from Japan) Day. Time taken to relax, sleep and ponder upon the battles and lives that were lost all over this mountainous peninsula. Mental notes taken not to kill people. Most effective battle-wear chosen to best achieve a weighty, positive first impression. Perfume at the ready, since teachers are mostly female.

Day 2, Tuesday: Up early, but not early enough. Battle preparations rushed and perfume forgotten. Note to rely on manly odour, helped by lack of shower. Buses remarkably on time, arrive at school and take station before many teachers have arrived. Take time to revise plans, but interrupted by a surprise rush. Target 3: New English Teacher approaches. A quick reconaissance mission results in the following intelligence:

Target 3: New English Teacher.
Name: 조경자 (Jo Kyeong Ja), aka Mrs Cho.
Age: 57 (retired).
Current status: 6 month employment by school to replace previous English Teacher, who is currently in training at a local institute.
General Appearance: Loud colours, long jumper and beret.
Speaks English with a slight French accent due to international travels with Emirates, the company which her daughter works for.
Plays over ten instruments, three of which (Ukulele, Flute, Ocarina) she always carries with her “just in case”.
Threat Level: Medium.

After dispatching to Teacher’s Office find route to divert threat and continue preparations. Target 2: Michelle Teacher enters and takes up her new position over English Operations. It transpires that lessons do not begin until Thursday. Timetable is deduced and peaceful negotiations continue throughout most of the day. New approach to teaching discussed with a little flak damage taken on all sides, however no casualties reported. Rest of day spent secretly planning reforms.

Day 3, Wednesday: Lines formed and firing commences early in the morning. No ground taken either way, fighting continues on and off until lunchtime, when a peaceful hour is taken to banter, discover that both sides can communicate a little in more than one language, and to recoup good relations. Lines retaken. Secret reforms laid down and resisted, but later partially accepted. Plans turn out to be so complicated that they take numerous sittings and explanations. This does not come as a surprise. Target 4: New Temp. English Teacher enters fray and delays process somewhat. Profile acquired.

Target 4: New Temp. English Teacher.
Name: 이주현 (Lee Joo Hyeon) – unreliable source data.
Age: Mid 40′s.
Current Status:  Teaching third and fourth grade English on Thursday and Friday. Also occupied at local school under new government legislation. Strong career in teaching, friendly appearance.
Threat level: Minimal. Since only part time has little sway.

Enemy substantially weakened by latest arrival. Much ground taken and battle won. New law in place and to be introduced immediately. Reforms include:

1 – New set of rules to be introduced.
2 – Students to work in teams, not individually.
3 – Curriculum to be split between teachers by lesson, not class.
4 – Teachers to be addressed as “Mr/Mrs…” rather than “Teeeecheooooh!”.
5 – Numerous documents to be spread through student ranks to aid understanding and establish peaceful co-operation.

Pre-Lesson Mission complete: military coup thoroughly successful, forceful takeover disguised as a democratic debate over English Education. “Thomas Teacher” now refers to himself as “The High Teacher”, in no way referring to his height but rather stature through conquest.

Day 4, Thursday: Regulations set in place over Target 1a (fourth grade students), who have magically transformed from loud little monsters to cute little tykes, no doubt with the aid of new secret weapons Ukulele and Ocarina. Students are led to drink of the river of English like the rats and children who drown following the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Unlike the Piper, Target 3 is paid for services by “The Grand High Teacher” with being allowed to teach alongside him, and shows gratitude through spreading numerous rumours that “There’s no way he can only have been teaching for six months, he’s far too good!”, a testament to his Grand Greatness. The rumour is confirmed and set in writing on the wall above bed. Gold plating to be arranged.

Day 5, Friday: Ego checked overnight and gold plating cancelled. Lessons continue in similar vein with Target 1b (5th Grade students) happily becoming subject to the House of English, as it has now been established under King Thomas rather than a Supreme Leader. Schedule is fully confirmed and filled out, and it is decided that Target 2 will assist the King in leading British Culture Class, since a club activity is required by the Establishment. Poster and trailer to be produced to gain the support of students. It is noted that there is an establishment above the Monarchy which looks a lot like a democracy, and since the weekend is approaching a step back away from Royal Duty is taken.

The weekend is a welcome rest in which to go to church, teach English to MJ’s father in exchange for a lesson in 바둑 (Baduk, an awfully difficult strategy game vaguely akin to Chess) and worry about bowels becoming unpredictable on a Sunday morning.

Day 6, Monday: Target 1c (6th grade students) similarly subdued. A plan to co-operate with teachers rather than forcefully control them is formed, and it is recognised that one’s standing in the community alone may have been enough to push desired plans through. A review of the campaign is made and it is deemed extremely effective. Company outing is arranged, and Comrades file along to a local raw fish restaurant, where needs are met and Kimchi Jjigae (for which spell checker suggests “Achilles Abigail” as more accurate)  is provided as an alternative. Details of developments of teacher relations to be detailed further in later document.

Day 7, Tuesday: Battle plan to subdue Special Target 1d (3rd grade students) is finalised and executed. Cuteness is overcome with strictness, lack of English ability is overestimated, fear of young children is thwarted, Korean Pop is championed and lunch is taken late. “New Year, New Rules” Campaign completed and report written. Thank goodness for that. My hands were getting chilly spending so much time typing with snowy weather and no heating.

But now, in all seriousness. I was a little terrified of the last week, but planned thoroughly, actively approached everything I wasn’t sure about, reformed my teaching and got excessively praised for my supposed teaching ability. All of this has massaged my ego which I hope to have deflated a little by creating a small farce about myself. It’s also shown me that I can be pro-active within a job, improve my methods, apply them well alongside my superiors and adapt them according to the necessities of each grade and even class. Which are all good signs for my future.

But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten how to be a complete idiot either. Why, just an hour ago I dropped my mouse into my cup of Lemsip and honey. Quite how it happened I’m sure I have no idea.

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