The Boys are Back

(run to the hills - run for your life)

It's March now, my ninth month in Korea. I finish work the last week of June, leaving me with shorter than 4 months left here. Where I am right now is about where Ben and Mike were first when I met them (but more on those kids in a minute). I haven't officially started counting the days or anything, but I'm certainly aware of my imminent departure, and aware that I'll miss this place a bunch.

While I'm on the topic of departures, I went out Friday night to celebrate Scott's last day of work. He's a New Zealander at my school who's been in Korea for two years now. It's interesting how that seems to be the magic number when visiting Korea. While so many seem to sign on for the second year, comparatively fewer seem to stick around for the third.

After drinks and Japanese food with some work people, I went out around Seoul National University and met Ben for a few more. That was all great, save for the Korean guy at the next table whose idea of a date was shouting at the girl for three hours and leaving her with the bill. Minus the rather progressively unchivalristic approach to payment, that sort of paternalistic exchange is really not uncommon in Korea.

Saturday I did the time warp (again?) as me, Ben and Mike spent a night that felt eerily similar to my first few months in Korea - we even grabbed a few drinks outside of a Sillim convenience store.

Then we made our way out to meet a few of Ben's friends, and drinking at a Soju bar turned into singing at a Noraebang. Every time I go to one of those, I question why I don't do it more often. Singing drunk with friends is such a natural thing, and it's all the better when you're amplified and given the lyrics.

While this weekend, and the weeks preceding it, were quite nice and temperate enough to drink outside and adventure in underprotective sweaters, this week served to remind me that it's still March and Korea's still kinda close to fucking Siberia.

It even snowed this week - enough for that giant melting dandruff to accumulate on the ground, even. Koreans get so excited when it snows. They take out their cameraphones (they've ALL got one - I think it's actually required for Korean citizenship) and take pictures of themselves with the snow. Like it's a landmark or drunk friend or something. I'm almost sure I saw one guy try to put his arm around a snowflake to pose for a self-taken picture.

I guess I can't say much better myself. Snow is so rare here that I felt inclined to photograph the seemingly contrasting images of Korea under a whole centimeter of fresh snow. And of course, the kids were excited too. In fact, I'm not so sure excited covers it. Excited is running to gym class, or seeing their teacher for the first time after a holiday. With snow, they get completely run-around-and-climb-the-walls shitbaked.

Oh, those kids. I teach a lot more kindergarten classes now. Save for the lack of a nap-sized break in my morning schedule, it's all pretty good. The kids are in smaller classes and better-behaved now, too. The school's a little redecorated with strange papers from children who have since left - such as an illustrated document of what the earth would be like sans-gravity.

I've also redecorated my desk with little trinkets I've gotten from kids, or those that I've made in class. Not to mention some nice but photographically boring stock photos of me with the students. My two personal desk-bound highlights are clearly the adorable framed picture Dorothy's mom gave me, and the pigdevil puppet I made in class one day. The idea was to make adorable little animals, but I was a little bored, and of course kids love to follow the teacher's example...

Once again, it's quite clear that I'm having a good time corrupting these poor children.

But perhaps they're already gone beyond repair as it is. As the closer this week, I leave a relatively innocuous subway ad, featuring a geographically-inaccurate portrayal of Korea, in which it spans a significant portion of the earth's surface.


Sometimes I wonder whether this might be the version of geography kids are taught here. Whenever I draw a map (I do this often, I'm not sure why) the kids are appalled at the size of Korea relative to other places. I've had them argue that Korea is similar in size to Canada (it's about the size of Newfoundland). I dare not mention that Japan is bigger, lest I be castrated and eaten alive by an army of cute, over-patriotic 11-year-olds.