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.

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!

톰

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.

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.

톰

That we chose to stop at “Love Land” first was of little more significance other than it was the northern-most attraction, hence closest to the airport and hence appropriate as only the first or last stop. Though we penned it in as first it was in fact pushed back to second, then third,  thanks to the moist grumbling that all are familiar with around lunch time and the realisation that a rock which supposedly looks like a dragon’s head was, in fact, just around the corner. The dragon’s head left much to be desired and looked as much like a dragon as Chinese characters look like what they’re supposed to represent, however lunch revealed the first Important Fact I learnt about Jeju Island, brought around by the purchase of a Jeju Island Pork burger from the confusingly titled “Kraze Burgers” (confusing as the burgers aren’t normal but aren’t exactly out-of-mind either). Apparently the Island is famous for three things: Wind, Rocks and Women. I thought of trying to make them alliterate but settled to have you imagine Jonathan Ross reading them aloud in an attempt to be hip and fresh and unforgettable in the few months left before he leaves the BBC. I will use these three things to detail three more Important Events of my trip and skip over the hints I’ve dropped that I visited a park, with my girlfriend and her mother, which was filled with wild sexual adventures captured in statue form and detailed in a museum which, thankfully, wasn’t quite as explicit as the statues attempted to be.

I’ll take a breath to observe that, if nothing else, my undergraduate life and completed dissertation have bestowed upon me the gift of writing a five hundred word introduction with remarkably little difficulty. Here’s then rest, then.

Wind. Though it didn’t show when flying, stepping onto the coastline revealed that, being located near the Pacific Ocean, Jeju Island is remarkably windy. This impression was dwarfed when we reached a peninsula towards the end of the week and were almost blown away, and also by the effect of the wind on some coastal rocks, which I shall return to later. The Important Event here, however, was our trip to Halla Mountain, the highest mountain in South Korea (though the National Anthem still pines for Mount Baekdu, located at the northern tip of North Korea and a certain mark of South Korea’s desire for unification). Though Korea is famous for mountains I’ve actually observed that not that many of them are mountains as classified by the West, which I’m told transforms a hill into a mountain at one thousand meters above sea level. Halla Mountain is, by these standards, certainly a mountain, and one which practically forms the entire island largely thanks to excessive volcanic activity, the last of which was recorded in 1007. This activity gives it numerous peaks and deep craters, the top most of which hosts a lake and, perhaps unrelatedly but all too often, a dense mass of cloud. In a moment of utter stupidity our trip up this mountain took us up the side which clearly led towards one of the lower peaks if one only craned one’s head upwards a little, and resulted in a rather shorter trip than expected. It also left us with a compellingly more memorable trip thanks to the fact that the peak we were climbing, or at least attempting to pull ourselves up over icy piles of snow left over from recent flurries and a rope handrail which led all the way along the earthy stairway built into the mountain, was completely untouched by the cloud which completely obscured the higher peaks. This cloud, we later discovered on a journey up a similarly famous crater on the seashore, would have meant that we would not have been able to see more than ten meters ahead of us into the lofty crater, and we certainly wouldn’t have glimpsed a view of the island, which no doubt (on a clear day) is completely epic, but today would have been utterly Lame.

Reaching the peak we could see the whole Eastern side of the Island, partly through the slit-windows of one of the last strongholds Japan made, and lost, in Korea. The west was, of course, subdued by the rest of the mountain, but this didn’t matter in the slightest. Instead of the mountain top all we could see was a white avalanche of clouds diving heavily into the valley below us before whisping into thin streaks around us. The sheer density this wall of vapour formed before spilling over the mountain slowly oozed down towards us with a momentum that would no doubt eliminate every one of the island’s ten thousand inhabitants had it not been entirely without mass. As it dipped and then rose sullenly towards us we couldn’t help but feel a certain thrilling terror, our mouths filled with cool gusts of humid air which bought tears to our eyes with our inability to close them in the face of such force. We eventually managed to tear ourselves away from the sight, partly thanks to Minji managing to slip into injury on the only part of the mountain untouched by snow, and party by the need to press on into our tightly packed schedule. This would soon bring us on to:

Rocks. Though this subtitle looks completely dull, it is in fact a rather Important Event, since, as I mentioned briefly, nearly the entire island was formed by a volcano. This means that, even outside its surprisingly immersive rock museum, there are many unusual landscapes and a good number of world heritage sites to explore. I’ll first bring you to those coastal rocks which I introduced above. These were some black sets of polygonal rocks protruding proudly from the shoreline, something which I have seen in photos and on the television but never imagined I’d come across so close before me. Whilst alone they were, in fact, nothing particularly beautiful to look at (however unusual and rare), when bothered by a stormy Pacific Ocean they were quite the sight. Not only did high, dark waves come in at a rate which I can’t remember having seen (though I do make remarkably few seaside trips), but as they crashed against these unnaturally shaped rocks the splash reached well above my head before shining white and black in the air and falling a good ten meters onto solid rock, the rest of the water having pulled itself back away from the smooth, shining and step-like protrusions which prevented it from lapping further upon the island.

On the next, decidedly wetter, day, Minji and I had arranged to take shelter in a one kilometre section of lava tunnel (part of a four kilometre wonder), created many many years ago but kept in remarkably good condition, which is open to the public. I always wonder just how people come across this kind of thing and the rush of excitement and fear they must’ve felt upon finding something so untouched yet so perfectly formed, but sufficed to present myself with it in its now much-visited state. After walking some time down the dimly lit tunnel, which is adorned with ridges, benches, stepping-stones and a large, rocky protrusion (which I discovered was the frozen end of the last lava flow to pour down the tunnel) it occurred to me that the place I was now strolling coolly and damply along had once been unbelievably hot, and not long before that a whole lot more solid. This thought felt somewhat distant, however, and upon reaching a large stone pillar (the largest known in the world), which had been created by lava flowing through another tunnel above but joining with this one, felt that the present conditions were a little more convenient for our leisurely perusal, and somewhat safer as well. It was also considerably dryer than an umbrella would have kept us, though perhaps this is to detract from the natural beauty of the tunnel and to move onto the stale dampness left by our short dash through a downpour, into the car and onto the rest of our journey, in short, into the presence of:

Women. Actually, this is where the saying breaks down into the past, since Jeju Island was once mainly populated with women after the men moved to the mainland for better prospects to support their families. Some of these women, or at least women taking advantage of tradition and Jeju’s recent surge in tourists, still dive into the sea to catch various life with their bare hands to sell and to eat. Apparently it’s quite impressive, but I didn’t quite fancy seeing some women in wetsuits waving a multi-legged sucker around. Though I didn’t see many men around I also didn’t spot a significantly large amount of women, and so will focus this last Important Event on the interaction of myself with the two women I was with, Minji and her mother.

What began as a mild worry (this trip was intended to be with friends, not family members) soon transformed into a relaxed trip after “Love Land” turned out, somehow, to be quite a small deal between the three of us. We didn’t laugh and jeer like some of the parties we came across, but we didn’t look up and stay stiff-necked either. This soft beginning set the tone for the rest of the trip whereby we travelled, ate, laughed and had some fairly serious conversations. These ranged from me being labelled as a 귀엄등이 (Gui-om Dungi, or Cute Person) thanks to my attempts to speak Korean and my completely appropriate but entirely unexpected replies to numerous comments and events (often in Korean, since my language skill is always improving). It even got to the stage that, if I spoke in English and Minji’s mum spoke in Korean, both slowly, we could often understand each other and communicate a decent amount. Along with us renting a one-room pension (remember pensions?) and me sleeping on a floor-mattress (요, or Yo) in the same room as them, which made the trip much more comfortable much more quickly, this meant that the mother felt amiable enough to ask me questions along the lines of “What do you believe about love”, leading to personal revelations of our characters and histories. Not to go into too much detail and to bring this blog to a healthy two thousand word-count ending, I will close with the remembrance that the evening after we returned back home and went our separate ways, Minj’s mother texted her daughter saying that she missed me. It certainly seems that I’m well in favour with this part of her family! There was always a lot of tension, but every part of it positive. I also, of course, had a very good time with Minji herself, who is sillier, smarter and more beautiful than ever. But that’s nothing new.

And you know what? I don’t want to leave Korea…

톰

Lateness.

And by lateness I mean the absence of spring during a horribly over-long  winter, the feeling of vengeful anger caused by the bus driver who turns up after thirty minutes of waiting in miserable “fine rain” (a phenomenon in dire need of a less glamorous name), and, in a fitful sleep, waking up every half an hour all night only to sleep through your alarm and miss the most important meeting you’ve arranged in the last two months.

This instinctive peeve of mine has been developed amongst a childhood full of tardiness, often (but, of course, never always) out of my control, and often subject to the disorganised efforts of parents to prepare children to leave the house. Now that I’m in the Republic of Korea I’ve found contrasting attitudes towards this. The first is that adopted by businesses who have generally taken a disliking to foreigners because they aren’t punctual. This is something I made sure to take advantage of when I began my job here, almost always beating my vice principle to school in the morning and thus thoroughly impressing him to the point where I’ve recently gained a decent amount of diplomatic leeway within those more important circles at school. Perhaps that also had something to do with my teaching, social and cultural efforts.

However, whilst punctuality is valued in the workplace, I’ve found that the exact opposite is true when socialising with closer friends. I’ve known occasions on which every single person, from a selection of seven friends all due to meet in one place at one time, has turned up at least twenty minutes late. At least they have the decency to let me know they’ll be another ten minutes. Ten minutes after they’re already late… I’ve almost decided that it’s no worth turning up on time any more, but still can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I turn up, find somewhere to sit, wrap myself warm against the harsh weather and heat myself up by stewing over lateness.

Perhaps it’s these moments which have caused this dislike to intensify recently.

Perhaps that’s why I was quite so upset the morning of this day one week ago, when I was due to head out and meet MJ’s family on the first leg of my new chapter. I had organised myself so that I was due to wake up nice and early to catch a bus over to Paju, a journey of at least an hour and a half, to arrive at their house in time to begin the traditional lunar new years celebrations. These consisted of eating Ddeok Guk (rice cake soup, remember?), along with a vast selection of traditional foods, and each member of family bowing, in a traditional manner, to those who are of a higher social or familial generation to them.

I, however, in a spectacular display of ineptitude, awoke well after dawn and well into the journey I should have been on. This meant throwing those essentials I hadn’t packed (such as toiletries – I like to shower in the mornings, my hair likes it that way) into my bag, since we were due to go skiing for a couple of days, and neatly tucked my new white shirt into my shiny Korean-tailored suit in order to match the family’s attire. I then began my journey, during which every bus and train I normally catch within minutes of waiting was also suitably delayed, hitting myself for being so late that I would now miss all the traditional stuff which comes once this time of year and which I’d been thoroughly building myself up for, since I was to participate.

Upon arrival they had indeed finished and were getting ready to leave. Despite this they still insisted that I participate in the traditional bow, which I knew was coming but had been heavily relying on watching before performing myself. I felt this placed much pressure on me, a man who’s never bowed to anyone in his life let alone in a traditional Korean manner. I’m not sure they could’ve appreciated just how unusual this was, especially when, having completed the bow successfully (and in what I later discovered was technically more accurate than the other men in the family) I was bestowed with envelopes of money normally entrusted to those in the family, which I am not. Yet. This left me with a healthy profit over the weekend which was completely negated thanks to a second weighty utility bill which, even after receiving two hundred thousand Won, left me two hundred thousand Won in the red. Or it would’ve done if I didn’t have some savings. You do the maths.

Having begun the holiday in poor fashion, which I believe was largely unknown to MJ’s family, I continued it in much higher spirits. My gifts of coffee, spam, olive oil, tuna and chocolate (the chocolate was only for the ladies, since it also happened to be valentines day, a concept which MJ’s grandparents have very little knowledge of despite its contemporary Korean popularity under the guise of “White Day” – appropriately followed by “black day” a couple of months later during which singletons mourn their dateless existence by eating noodles in black sauce) were well received, and having been at the house for only half an hour got changed out of my suit and entered into casual skiing mode, in which I was much more comfortable, if only for the reason that it was still cold outside and a suit offers little winter protection despite the addition of a vest.

I was soon on course for Gangwon-do, the north eastern province of the RoK (which reportedly reaches a scary negative twenty five degrees in the depths of winter, but which now sported a more friendly two or three positive), in a car with MJ, her uncle and her two young cousins, who remained rather shy for the whole weekend despite reasonable levels of English competence. Indeed, skiing passed quickly and enjoyably, though it turned out that of the twelve people with us only four skied (at the excellent price of twenty pounds per head for hire and a lift pass for the day), and the focus of the weekend instead seemed to become getting those who were able to to speak to the Native English Guy. This came very slowly and with much encouragement by parents and peers, however after eating dinner (which consisted of the traditional food I had missed that morning, the family bringing everything needed to make it at the hotel) we went down to a Japanese style pub and drank beer, ate kebabs (because it’s compulsory to eat whilst you drink here) and chatted.

Whether it was a glass of beer, the atmosphere or just a grown confidence I don’t know, but we proceeded to talk a lot of English over a variety of subjects. This forced the boys to display their skill in talking about new year’s resolutions, and also provided an opportunity for me to talk to MJ’s dad and his brother about values, the business world and the future. This ended up being a very enjoyable evening with many guards let down and barriers broken, with the effect that MJ’s dad now wishes to have English lessons with me regularly where before he would sit and listen to English Lessons on his MP3 player, completely forsaking the much more valuable lesson of learning to communicate with an English person.

Not only is this an improvement in terms of communication, but also in understanding. It has become apparent that MJ’s dad, probably along with many of his generation, is quite conservative and has a very negative view of Native English Teachers, in that they hang around in Korea with a low paying job and no ambitions to do anything with their life. I fit this job description (as a teacher) and so enter into his stereotype, which provides a difficult obstacle for negotiate if I ever take things further with his daughter, which is looking extremely possible these days. Potential candidates need a promising job and a probable future of family security, and this weekend had provided a chance to engage with him and prove that I’m not just floating around, wasting my life, but am of a character which could exceed his expectations. This will take more time and effort to carry and prove, and is one reason why I’m almost obliged to give him the English lessons he’s requested despite the obvious awkwardness this would produce on both our parts and the clear lack of experience I’ve had teaching adults one to one, especially business English, which is what his multi-national company expects of him.

To briefly end my narrative, the evening closed at 2am in a karaoke room, and the next morning began early and with more traditional food for breakfast, which as implied earlier was rather spicier and warmer than my customary cereal. After packing and watching some of the Vancouver Winter Olympics, in which the Koreans have, as usual, been clearing the table in speed-skating, we then drove home to what I supposed to be the end of the weekend. In fact, I was delighted to realise that we hadn’t finished yet, and that I should now don my suit once more in order to visit MJ’s mother’s brother’s house to wish them new year (since the wife joins the husbands family they often visit the wife’s family when the husband’s have left), and to perform all the traditional things I had missed the previous morning, food, bows and all.

Having returned to the point I started at I feel it’s appropriate to end here and leave you wondering what I did for the first week of my holidays after having realised that all these things hadn’t actually been the weekend, but had also wholly eaten my Monday.

And let’s face it, since I’m leaving for Jeju island in a couple of days I must have written this too late to write about the last few days, no matter how interesting they may or may not have been… How annoying!

톰

p.s. I realise I left you with very little idea of the traditional things I did, so here’s a taster…

In fact, such a referral isn’t nearly as arbitrary as I’ve made out, since the description I gave is somewhat like that which the Lunar New Year (설날, Seollal) and an advance into the Year of the Tiger might invoke. It is this which will bring me to the age of twenty three (according to the Korean system – after having been allowed only two months of my twenty first year and four months of the following) and which will perhaps require me to turn to the next page of life.

I say this for a number of reasons, the first of which is that the Lunar New Year is arguably the biggest holiday of the Korean calendar and gives reason for a somewhat vast family meeting. This will be occurring in my girlfriend’s family and I believe I am expected to participate. Secondly, I will have two weeks holiday in which I will get to see a lot more of Korea and think about how I can improve my teaching as the new school year comes round. Lastly, I’m just about halfway through the length of my current teaching contract and need to shift gear to that of “find out what comes next”. I cannot be entirely sure how each of these will play out, however I can give you a rough idea of what I’m expecting.

Early next Sunday morning I’ll make my way over to MJ’s house to celebrate the new year. As far as I know, this will include both a) performing a traditional bow to every person in the family who is older than us, since we may bow together, and b) eating 떡국 (Ddeok guk, rice cake soup), which is symbolic of getting a year older. I have a horrible suspicion that I might be given money, since the elders are supposed to provide for the younger, and know that this will be a deeply awkward moment, especially given that my recent trip with them was entirely funded by the family. I also know that rice cake soup is thick, meaty, and contains copious amounts of egg and seaweed, both of which I’m not fond of but both of which I intend to consume. I believe it’s considered polite of a Korean girl’s boyfriend to eat the girl’s mother’s cooking with extra zeal. If I manage this then the two day family skiing trip we leave for that afternoon will probably go a lot smoother!

Which brings me onto holidays. At the moment I’m aware that one of my Korean friends will be visiting Seoul next week, and I hope to catch up with some people I haven’t seen in far too long. I’ll also be taking to the shores of Jeju Island, the southern-most territory of Korea and easily the warmest, though as it’s Winter the temperatures still aren’t much to boast about. What is interesting is its status as a dead volcano, the likes of which I’ve never experienced before and which I’m quite excited about. Apparently the island is so porous that even in heavy rain you hardly ever see a puddle. It should certainly be worth a blog and many photos!

As for “what comes next”, I think it’s really difficult to say. Currently I’m swinging towards returning to England in either August this year or February next year, having been informed that it’s possible to extend my teaching contract by six months should I wish it. A lot of it depends on what MJ intends to do / manages to arrange immediately after her graduation next year. Until then I need to harden up my teaching style and get strict with my new third graders who will join me in just over two weeks. My aim is to instil fear into their every move so that a call of “QUIET!” results in silence. Unfortunately I might be too easy going for that (I like to think easy-going could be replaced with “cool” or “handsome” after the discovery that I have a  fan club in the middle school opposite mine), but perhaps I can at least up the discipline a little. That’s if I even teach third grade… I might end up teaching just two grades but twice a week, which might give me half a change of getting to know some of the students names; a feat which currently seems impossible in just a year.

Does it leave you wanting more? Well you’ll have to wait until after the new year when I’m sure I’ll have more than enough to say…

… Other than that you should check out Korean pop-rock song “외톨이야“, (eotoli ya, I’m a loser) by CN BLUE. I’m afraid to admit it might actually be reasonably catchy, even with an awkward rap!

톰

I feel that I’ve started this by giving you false impressions of my recent activity. If you study further you’ll find that the lyrics to the song which bears the same title as this post (you’ll note that all my titles have song equivalents) bear these impressions further weight, but I’m here to dispel such thoughts with the mention of my recent travels around Korea.

Having completing Winter Camp last Friday I found myself with four days of holiday to fill out. It so happened that these days coincided with a short trip that Minji’s family (minus her father, who was promoted just a few days before and no doubt had a lot of responsibility to assume) were due to take to visit some close relations, as her brother is due to leave the country today to resume his studies in Switzerland. Since I’ve not yet travelled outside of 경기도 (Gyeong-gi do), the province around Seoul, and because it would give me a chance to meet some more of their immediate family, I was asked to join them.

And so I found myself up at the same unearthly hour that work normally forces out of me in order to travel the wrong direction to 일산 (Ilsan, almost as far north as you can go without being shot), where MJ’s family were to pick me up before travelling the entire length of the country to Korea’s second largest city and residence of both sets of grandparents, 부산 (Busan, as far south as you can go without needing a boat and lots of sunscreen). As we began to leave the ring-road around Seoul we immediately stopped for a toilet break at a service station. This was hugely busy, apparently due to it being the last stop before hitting the open road, and didn’t resemble anything I’ve ever encountered. It was mostly outdoors, had hyper-luxury toilets, loud live music (raising money for some charity) and was entirely chilly. And quite unlike the UK equivalent there wasn’t a Burger King in sight. I did have a slice of Domino’s Pizza though. It was spicy.

We continued our journey for some time, though this time with MJ’s brother at the wheel along with various jokes about our risk of death, heightened by the tendency of South Koreans not to wear seat belts in the back seat, and eventually stopped at another service station, this one much quieter, to supply ourselves with a meal and a stretch. Interestingly, I was the only diner to eat Korean food, the rest opting for some international fusion. This tendency isn’t surprising, some of the favourite restaurants around Seoul being Italian, French and almost any mix of almost anything. After finishing our meals we bought some 고구마 sticks (sweet potato) and my suspicions of Koreans having a huge appetite was conclusively confirmed.

The rest of the journey consisted of winding through various mountain ranges and down lengthy tunnels, every vista in Korea allowing a horizon of just a mile or so, until we skirted a final peak and landed of 헤운대 (Haeundae) beach, which recently featured in a tsunami disaster movie and came equipped with “Evacuation Route” signs at strategic beach exits. Walking around the beach was reminiscent of any seaside town, with pale coloured buildings, a few souvenir shops and numerous skyscrapers. Walking along the beach in my winter coat I noted that the place looked rather too small to be Korea’s second largest city, however remembered the numerous geological protrusions which, along with the closed bay the largely empty beach was situated in, accounted for its apparent insignificance. I was assured that in summer you can hardly see a grain of sand for the tourists, a factor which must make the aforementioned disaster movie much more dramatic. After getting a view of the beach and sea from our twenty-fourth floor rooms was I realised that I was thoroughly satisfied to escape the freezing weather of Seoul for Busan’s relatively tropical ten degrees. This feeling became intensified upon hearing that our three rooms totalled only sixty six thousand won per night, about thirty pounds, thanks to MJ’s grandparents having a membership at the hotel and getting some extremely good deals, including free breakfast which is normally worth an extra tenner. I made full use of this, along with the nineteenth floor gym which boasted a nineteenth floor city panorama. At least, until a mountain blocked two thirds of it.

Thanks to a late arrival in Busan we went almost straight to have a meaty dinner with MJ’s dad’s parents at a restaurant ran by some other family members. It was a nice little place and we had a good meal before heading back to the hotel to gamble. Admittedly they only use 100 won coins, but I can’t help but feel they enjoy this a little too regularly. I’ve now overcome my reluctance to gamble thanks to making some winnings, and at a card game entirely new to me called “GO STOP”, which uses a completely alien set of cards called  화투 (Hwatu). These are twelve sets of four cards, each set being a different month and each card bearing a different picture, though each month has a reoccurring theme. I shan’t indulge in explaining the rules here, but will mention that it’s not easy to follow. Thankfully I picked it up fast enough to (apparently) gain some respect from both sets of grandparents and to gain three thousand won, largely from MJ’s mother. She didn’t seem to mind. I also gained a reasonable amount of money the next day after parting with the grandparents, thanks to an enveloped gift from them. I think that means they approve of me? The envelop the next set of grandparents provided for MJ that evening provided me with the impression that my profits were normally meant for the grandchildren, and I concluded that I was now more a part of the family. I also learnt that Koreans don’t usually get engaged like Westerners do. I’m getting the impression that I’m far further into this family than my Western noggin realises.

Other than meeting the other grandparents and an uncle, my two days in Busan were spent quietly. One morning we walked along a small peninsula and, upon rounding a large corner, saw a large section of the rest of the city which looked far more modern and vastly more impressive. The view actually blew me away. We also visited the largest department store in the world. Unfortunately it was expensive and I haven’t enough money. It was nevertheless interesting to see and shaming to feel so dwarfed by such a monstrously large building, and we soon retreated from its sixth floor ice rink into an Australian style restaurant called Outback in which MJ was confronted with a tremendous rack of ribs and endless sweet bread which made for an suspiciously Korean meal. It was good stuff nevertheless, and gave me something to spend what my grandparents had bestowed upon me earlier that day. Oh, did I write my grandparents? Hyu…

Here's a rough map of my travels, colour coded according so you can see the journeys I took each day. We didn't travel on the second day, so there is no line for it... Click to enlarge!

From Busan we travelled straight up the eastern coast, glimpsing the East Sea (you’ll find it as the Sea of Japan on your maps) between mountains and eventually stopping for lunch at a crab place, the likes of which were advertised with giant ten foot crabs suspended in mid-air along the highways. For those who don’t know me so well, this was a significant stop to make because I don’t eat seafood, and have threatened (unintentionally) to throw up on the odd occasion of my eating it. Crab, however, was one of the lesser items I had on my list of seafood I can try without dying along with squid and prawn. It turns out, as I had guessed, that I didn’t die, and whilst eating felt that I could do so again without too much worry. I even enquired as to if lobster was of a similar taste, since I heard it’s worth trying. Unfortunately, looking back on it now makes me feel strange and slightly nauseous, and MJ’s joy at me not hating something aquatic may lead to more dangerously piscine arrangements all too soon. We continued up the coast amid small showers of rain and a darkening light until we found the guest house we were to stay at, confusingly called 팬션 (Pensions) despite having nothing to do with the elderly or eliciting your money instead of providing it. These are a popular way to have a break and provide a comfortable small flat with friendly owners who cook you fried rice for breakfast and let you ride their bikes, although only around the block. The latter qualities may not be found in all pension owners, but did in those I became acquainted with. Oh, and we only rode the bikes around the block because it was ferociously cold. Or too cold to ride bikes at least.

The car provided a much warmer option to move around the north-east, where we stopped at half an hour intervals for short periods to view the scenery and to visit a few places, before retreating from the cold and moving on. I realised it was really quite cold when, after smiling briefly for numerous photos, my teeth felt unusually cold to the point where it was possibly a little painful and certainly completely queer. It’s not something I wish to experience again. It was worth it, however, since there were lots of places to take picturesque photos (as one would hope most photos to be). We stopped at a harbour, the site where a historical drama was recently filmed, a service station (though we didn’t eat this time) where we got an awesome view of a mountain sticking out of a mountain at an angle I cannot comprehend, and eventually a mountain town called 양구 (Yang Gu). Here we stopped for a little longer in order to drop in and see MJ’s brother’s old maths teacher, who delighted to see him and graciously accepted a huge box of oranges and an envelope of what I can only assume was money. Gifts are important here see. He happened to work at a new Foreign Language School, usually more expensive than others (though this one was government-funded) and hence very large and very posh. I gather it would have looked more impressive still if it wasn’t covered with fresh snow. And to think a day before I’d been on a beach… Currently there are only one hundred and fifty students at this school, however as we made our way around a packed dining hall a large and rowdy noise was heard. Our time there continued with students either pressing their noses against the windows and calling “Hey man!” or timidly smiling and muttering “Hello” then scuttling away timidly giggling. It appears as though they don’t see many foreigners up in the mountain, the experience comparing to the super-star status I received on teaching in Central China, and I quickly reminded myself that my fame wasn’t due to my rugged beauty or wily charm, but rather the colour of my skin, an arguably less flattering reason.

With this stop over we continued through the mountains until we stopped at 춘천 (Chun-cheon) for lunch. We pulled up on 닭갈비길 (Dalk Galbi Road) to eat, amazingly, Dalk Galbi. Maybe that wasn’t as obvious for you as it is for me now. Hmmm. The road is thus named because the dish was supposedly created here, or at least famous for being utterly scrumptious, or perhaps both. MJ’s family concurred this truth with mumbles of “Yeah, it’s pretty good” as they munched through the spicy red mix of chicken, cabbage, rice cake and noodles that was fried before our eyes. It was pretty good and contained absolutely no crab. Before long we had to leave again, since there were various appointments to be met back in 일산, and so after another couple of hours of driving we dropped everyone off, and MJ’s mum drove me back to my apartment (even after spending four days driving around the country, amazing) along with a twenty minute conversation in two languages and little direct understanding. I got the impression we communicated everything we intended to.

With a short lug of my strangely heavy suitcase and a fluffy plonk face down onto my bed the holiday was over and I prepared to prepare to return to school to try to find something to do. Despite my reluctance to work I soon turned over to face the ceiling so that I didn’t die of oxygen deprivation and reflected that, actually, I’d travelled a huge distance in just four days and seen an obscene amount of Korea and met a multitude of new people. I made a note to myself that I should revisit various places in my next vacation in February, since I stopped so briefly in each location that I only glimpsed its beauty from the surface. I feel there would be a strange value in diving into the fish markets of Korea’s most bustling commercial port during a more temperate month.

I’m getting quite excited thinking about it…

톰

The discussion that follows considers two opposing methods of developing the “progression” of a society. The first considers the practical use of ideas to bring about fast but forced progression, the other of which muses the shaping of a society’s ethics to bring about a slower but, perhaps more valuable, progression. My thoughts stem from the development of Shilhak thought in Korea, a movement which attempted to move away from traditional Neo-Confucian ethics and open-mindedly sought to fuse its culture with new Chinese and Western ideas. No, I don’t fully understand what this means in its historical context, however it gave me food for though and the following blog to produce. This is how it rolls. You know, my blog rolls… Blogroll… Never mind.

Early Confucianism in Korea saw the emergence of Sonbi, social philosophers who sought to perfect themselves morally and philosophically by reaching towards the “Greater Power” (which is, by the way, nothing like us Westerners might imagine, having alternately been defined as Heaven, God, Nature and Man all at the same time), whilst creating and upholding social values for the government and its official to live and work by. The idea was that by striving to perfect the self one would not only lead others to do the same but actually change the moral fabric of a society as a whole, especially since these Sonbi were often responsible for (swaying) many big decisions. This meant that society was defined by a strong moral compass which, thanks to debate and constant meditation, changed appropriately according to the time. This, so I have gathered, worked well for many centuries and led Korea to being a generally peaceful and well governed nation. When this idea failed was when men took advantage of their positions and sought to change society for their own good and didn’t take the time to develop a good moral character. Apparently there’s good evidence that when the Sonbi were upright, society prevailed, but when these people were morally deviant, society began to fall apart. In summary: If you have strong roots, you will produce a good tree. Seems obvious perhaps?

The next category of thought came out of this a few centuries later, when the idea came around that you could indiscriminately take the best ideas from different places to make the best society possible. This came about near the time when the Qing dynasty of China overcame the Ming dynasty, bringing with it great openness to Westerners and their strange ideas. Thus scholars chose to apply new Western and Chinese ideas with their own and fuse them into a new social philosophy which was rather different to what the previous paragraph detailed. This idea saw the idea of progression and advancement as more important than developing moral character. This meant that they built houses for the poor, challenged old government precepts and introduced new technology to advance their nation. It also meant the rise of Catholicism, materialism and what some saw as moral decay, with social advance becoming more important than the people it was made of; these new ideas didn’t have time to be though through and led to society changing quickly and people not having the time to meditate on the moral state of the country or to the countries rich cultural background. In summary: If you produce the branches first, then the roots will develop later.

Interlude ~ Those with particularly green fingers might note at this point that, in fact, plants grow from seeds and variously produce ‘branches’ or ‘roots’ first. This would suggest that the moral fabric of a society is heavily defined in its conception. Those with a more literary mind will note that the use of floral imagery was a metaphor and therefore has limits. Very useful limits.

And so both of these ideas existed alongside each other and struggled for a fair while until, eventually, the progressive minds were pushed aside as Japan tried to invade Korea multiple times and the nation developed a steely anti-foreigner skin; though they still trusted China like a child trusts their father (here the metaphor can extend to when a child doesn’t get on with their father, however it doesn’t extend to fill the place of China’s multiple personality changes through various political upheavals. If your dad has numerous internal political upheavals then please seek family counselling). This was furthered in Korea’s modern history thanks to Japanese Colonialism, the Second World War and the split of the Korean Peninsula, which has led to one half becoming deeply communist (and co-incidentally evil) and the other deeply capitalist (and hence evil?). Note that all ideas of moral code, at least at a national level, were lost through these wars and resulted in aggressive military regimes in both countries, along with national destitution in the North and  incredibly fast economic growth in the South. Both of these, to a certain extent, have resulted in suppression of moral values. I argue that this is the case in South Korea only in light of what follows about the rest of the capitalist world, notably England, since that’s what I’m most familiar with.

The United Kingdom is arguably one of the major reasons that capitalism exists today, thanks to the boom of industry in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, the resultant movement of populations into cities, reliance on wages rather than subsistence farming and the importation of fanciful goods from an increasing powerful empire, led by the ruling classes and fuelled by the lower grasping for a taste of what the former had. This has reached its height after a few hundred years, and whilst an awful lot of thought has gone into those years I would suggest that capitalist society, at its core throughout history, has forsaken moral values in favour of national and personal advancement. Whether the motivation has been to out-do rising European powers who threaten the stability of your enviably large empire, a secret ambition to be obscenely rich from lucrative diamond mining operations in South Africa or simply to benefit the people, the results have been in similar veins: slavery, exploitation and war. I’ll admit that we now have the experience to know that these things are inherently bad (though I’m sure people always knew this) and the national maturity to now do something about it, we can still find amongst the supposedly moral fortresses of modern liberalism, post-modernism, religion or conservatism (depending on your view) huge swathes of corruption and injustice. Hence why in only a few years we have seen a worldwide economic recession, public outrage at the British Parliamentary members’ expenses claims and an inability to reach a decent plan to stop global warming before the people who the world isn’t helping enough to survive lose what little fertile soil they have to rising temperatures. Even within my own life I’m aware how sitting writing a lengthy blog on my shiny new notebook whilst nibbling After Eights and sipping Bailey’s is inherently corrupt and unfair, because I’ve chosen to chase after my own gain rather than develop a moral character which will actually affect the world around me in a good way. Admittedly I could donate a few thousand Won to the Haiti earthquake appeal, but if I only respond to a cry for help when it visits my four hundred pound screen then I’m not really doing anything.

This isn’t to damn the world, to make you feel bad or to advertise a better way, merely to express what I’ve been thinking about and why my chosen career option is that of a Sonbi. That’s right, I’m going to retreat into the mountains and develop a moral character before coming to the city to guide and strengthen the national identity. I’m also going to absorb the Korean language from the woodland moisture and fresh valley views until I’m fluent enough to make a change. Care to join me? In all seriousness, I do feel as though the development that the Western World has led is deeply flawed and that society is moving towards unnatural and unusual conclusions, assured that it is right by a skewed and basely selfish mentality disguised as morality. I feel that we would all be better off living in a peaceful and community-serving nation which seeks to reach greatness through self-development and well thought-through contemporary social development such as that which might have been found in Korea some five hundred years ago. I’m also aware that I have to live and work in the world I’m in, and that I myself am a part of what I’ve described. I feel a worrying sense of inadequacy to change anything even in my own life, however intend to go about it. I’ll have to develop my character in my home, family and workplace instead of amongst the mountains.

To end, I’ll admit that I’ve actually been researching getting a job in public relations. I feel as though it’s a challenging prospect which will allow me to move around the world, to affect the very same and to use my creative output to benefit people other than myself. And it also pays the wage to help me continue my self-serving material ambitions.

Listen, I just don’t think I’ll have the money to feed the hungry after I’ve bought my wireless mouse and keyboard, wireless router, wireless headphones and mini projector which will allow me to sit in my bed and play games all day whilst my wife, who is now an independent woman and can bring in the money for me, works and the maid looks after my three podgy, spotty, World of Warcraft playing kids. Hey, it’s ok, by the time they’re adults their gaming addictions will allow them to make money in worldwide gaming competitions. Don’t say I’m not investing in my future children’s lives.

톰

It has also occurred to me that, in the year 2010, my blog’s spellchecker should most certainly not be displaying a jagged red line under the word “blog”, thereby apparently denying its own thorough existence in vernacular and, no doubt, official dictionaries. Web log just isn’t a real word nowadays. Neither is it two.

To return from this minor meander (as David Copperfield so openly condemns in the opening pages of the Dickens Classic I acquired from a gently matriarchal figure overseas during a certain festive period which, incidentally [apart from big red costumes and robust marketing schemes], is almost non-existent outside of Christian circles in Korea) and return to the matter at hand, that is, “Wot I Did On My Holiday”, I shall proceed to recount the more interesting factoids from my recent history and in the gap that now spans gapingly and toothlessly between my last post and the one you are now musing over. And that I will do in reverse chronological order.

This evening I shared my fears and worries about the lack of ambition and general motivation I have recently experienced with a 누나 (nuna, older sister) whom I have only seen once (now twice) in Korea. We went to Jongno and ate bibimbap, wandered around for a little amongst the freezing evening air and discussed things from the possibilities of marriage (in our notably separate worlds and to notably different people) to exactly why the concept of 마음 (Ma-eum) is so difficult to translate into English. It was also agreed upon that sitting in a cafe with a hot cuppa coffee when the world outside is frozen over is far more preferable to sweating it out amongst the humid monsoon season I have yet to appreciate in all its fullness.

By the bye, when I say frozen I imply that Seoul is thoroughly frigid, proven by my purchase of a two hundred thousand won coat (approximately one hundred pounds) and my observation that the vast expanse of the Han River is frozen enough to walk upon. I would complain further about this unexpectedly chilly turn in my life except that the rest of the world seems to have also become a winter wonderland, with my home country experiencing rather similar circumstances, and most of Europe and Eastern America laying claim to unusual amounts of snow. Needless to say I feel this has somewhat stolen my thunder, however I will still head back in my memory to just over a week ago when, to set the general scene for my Jongno coffee with a wonderfully appropriate turn of events, around twelve inches of snow fell in as many hours on the morning my school’s Winter English Camp was due to start.

Ah, Winter Camp. An idea I had previously never imagined participating in, especially without any formal pay (though my co-teachers have lovingly rigged  it so that I get at least a little money, since it’s rather unjust to employ someone for three weeks without any pay – though I must point out that the rest of my contract is fairly sweet), this has turned out to be a welcome break from doing nothing. Along with my co-teacher Michelle I have so far tallied ten days of Winter Camp, whereby twenty-five fourth and fifth graders have spent the morning at school learning English, Culture, Life skills, and Very Silly Drama Games. It’s been great to spend time with some of my students, and to have been able to get much closer to some of them. Some of my kids are so sweet and lovely, and others so smart yet so unbelievably silly that it makes one despair rather more than one might normally wish to. Nevertheless, my mornings have been thoroughly packed helping the students to create their own English Speaking country (located, through a series of games whereby students could attack each other’s countries and expand their empire, in Europe), national anthem, local fashion and any other subject I could convince them was at least roughly related to a nation. Today we had mini-Olympics, which proved fun but exhausting. The abundance of games, theatre and life skills I’ve been teaching point me towards the unexpected conclusion that I’m actually doing a graduate Drama job. I honestly didn’t see this coming…

I also didn’t expect my utility bill this month to come to one hundred and fifty pounds, though some thorough investigation has revealed that I had a tragic misunderstanding of the way my heating system worked, and have hence had my gas bill blown sky-high, though admittedly along with the most toasty toes a man has ever had. It was enjoyable whilst it lasted, but it was certainly not worth the effective doubling of said monthly duty.

And to think that I am thankful for all of the above…

You see, what proceeded this wasn’t entirely wholesome or flattering towards my 마음 (Ma-eum, remember?). Here I will roughly translate this word as Heart. Though it could be character, or spirit, or emotions, consideration or indeed whole-heartedness. I think I’ve put my finger on it in Korean, but it just can’t be expressed in English… In a similar way to the Korean concept of Cute. I am, of course, referring to the ‘slump’ I hinted at earlier. From here I will proceed in chronological order from before Christmas, only to return in a clever but needlessly complicated turn of literaturgical structure. No, literaturgical is not a real word. Not outside of the vernacular, at least.

Honestly, I felt rather proud about the routine and positive productiveness I had developed towards the end of last year. I was being regular, thoughtful and purposive in many things, and had a constant and enjoyable time in my work, social life, and indeed at church. The dawning of the holidays, however, brought this to an abrupt end. It should be noted that this isn’t to point blame at any particular people I happened to spend time with during this vacational period, rather just at the sudden collapse of my routine that holiday seems to bring upon me.

It was the Christmas holidays which saw my father fly over to visit me from England, and which hence saw the first time I had had a guest in my house as a fully independent adult (who seems to insist on spelling “independent” “independant”. Thank you spell-checker! Note, I still haven’t forgiven you for not recognising the word “blog”), though whether I’m yet an adult and whether a person can truly be independent from one’s parents, or indeed anyone, is a subject for another day perhaps. This provided an interesting challenge to which I feel I responded generally appropriately (here I remember that, of course, I fell short in a number of important factors), though of course my father’s expectations of being a guest in his son’s space and mine of being a host no doubt mismatched somewhat. During this time we toured various parts of Seoul and the surrounding area, and I shared the parts of my life that had changed since our last meeting. In doing so I not only ripped myself from the routine I mentioned earlier, but was also reminded of the life I led before my cross-continental jump, thus was left, after an honestly enjoyable holiday with my father, a little confused.

As if not confused enough, upon the turn of the decade I became aware, with the aid and prompting of my girlfriend, that I don’t actually have an aim of goal for my life, and am thus living for no particular reason other than to live. I may indeed be going somewhere, but without some kind of goal I’m effectively just floating and being blown around by the fancies and whims of the wind of life. With a decision needing to be made about whether I will extend my teaching contract or not looming fairly soon, I need to seriously consider what comes next. Unfortunately, I have no idea.

These factors mixed to leave me in a unmotivated place in which I could be bothered to do just about anything, from arranging to meet friends or even going down to the shop to buy milk which I needed to eat breakfast the next day, to slowly realise that, actually, I needed to stop being so self-indulgent and actually get into gear to do something, no matter how pessimistic my life-long lack of a ‘goal’ had left me. If I remember hard enough, I’ve always felt this way until I’ve actually done some research and seen what the options are… It’s easy to despair before you even look! Why is that? Why do I have such a lack of perspective on my life! Thankfully being pushed into doing something not suggested by the ego, such as a girlfriend or a job (here in the form of Winter Camp), helps to bring that perspective about.

By way of consequence, and in returning to the centre of where my (chronologically) reverse-chronological and then chronological tales have just met, I will admit that I am now feeling much more optimistic, though I haven’t yet solved my future. The reason being that, as I have been rebuilding my routine around Winter Camp, friends and, importantly, God, I have found that the prodding of my girlfriend which initially caused me to topple from unmotivated indifference into despair is actually bringing me further into a relationship which is becoming all the more real and mature, to the point where I can’t help but feel it’s getting rather Serious. Not that it wasn’t serious in the first place, since I’m usually a serious and committed sort (at least in such areas as this), but I’ve noted that this relationship is starting progress at a pace and maturity towards the future that I haven’t experienced so far. This is a little terrifying, but rather more exciting, and will need to be watched carefully before it gets really out of hand. Who knows what could happen!

For the time being I feel that all this has taken the same turn as the economy. A spectacular nosedive from a position of unwittingly over-stated strength into a period of deep worry and difficulty, but which is gradually bringing a very different and hopeful world onto the horizon. Will Asia be the new commercial hub of the world, will Germany regain its status as the world’s biggest exporter, will the war against the Taliban ever end? It seems that the world is subtly changing in a major way, and I intend to meet and move with it in a thoroughly thought through and sober judgement on my future, which looks all the more like it might be a sharper and greater picture of what I have right now.

How cryptic. How abrupt. How apt.

톰.