Creepy Children, Korea and Futureness

We were in the DVD Bang, had selected Memories of Murder. In the dark, settled. The movie begins. But then-- the creepy in-room phone screeches out an electronic version of Fur Elise, scaring us a little. “No English subtitles, sorry.” The man behind the desk gives us complimentary Vitamin C drinks. Back in the room after some internet research, now prepared for The Uninvited. We were hell-bent on watching a Korean Horror. The oft-repeated scary little-dead-girl-duo at the fore, giving way to a convoluted storyline, haphazard scary moments and consistent watch-checking by me. After what seemed like 5 hours spent in a black box, we emerged back onto the Hongdae scene, Sunday late evening. But you wouldn’t know it. Hordes of people out, are you sure it’s not really Saturday night, Alex? A: I don’t know, let’s go dancing.

Then we see it. The creepiest dangling baby – it (yes, “it” – too early to distinguish between she and he) was attached to its mother’s back – one of those baby backpacks Korean women use to cart around their little ones. It looked like it was practicing for tryouts for Baby Cirque de Soleil and it looked creepy as hell. Baby spines shouldn’t bend that way. (add to this yesterday’s equally creepy child experience of little unblinking girls bleating at us in Paris Baguette—seriously, what is going on?)

Also, random moments/Korean observations (“Koreanisms”) from the last couple months/entire time I’ve been here:

 Teacher lunch. After a river of Korean wine (Makgeolli- milky and drunk out of bowls) – my former Head Teacher asks me to join his table. I must down a shot of hard liquor before entering into conversation. I thought only males were asked to do this. Maybe I’m special. They are impressed that I didn’t choke (as am I). Inebriated, Mr. Park confers with another Head Teacher and they ask me in drunken, extremely broken English if I will join their 3rd grade teacher trip (I teach 1st grade: the high school freshmen). They say they are going to Laos and would love for me to join. While I am honored and would absolutely love to go to Laos, somehow being accompanied by a dozen ajoshis (older Korean men) just…yeah, it wouldn’t work out. I wonder how I can exit the scene unnoticed and without offending anyone. Fortunately, an even more inebriated Head Teacher descends upon us, yelling, holding up an unopened Makgeolli bottle and everyone starts cheering. I slip out through the back.

 While teaching my lesson on travel, I found out that Korean students are taught that there are 6 continents, not 7. They combine North and South America into one super continent: America.

 My shoe size puts me just outside the range of availability at most Korean shoe stores. I wear a size 9 and a 1/2 in the U.S. – here that translates into size 255, a.k.a. “SORRY”, “250 ONLY” or “NO”. Size 250 is usually the largest available.

 Our cinco de Mayo is Korea’s Children’s Day. No school! Also, no Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, but = Parents Day.

 After roughly 2 years of having an insufficient portable music device, I bought a Korean mp4 player. Cowon S-9 mp4 with an AMOLED screen and it is *awesome*.

 America’s Funniest Home Videos and Steven Seagal are constant fixtures on my Korean TV. If these are the most consistent representations of America, it’s no wonder my co-teacher tried to cut my tofu for me the first week I was here.

 I asked a co-teacher why most Koreans don’t like cats (I’ve yet to actually know 1 Korean who owns a cat as a pet). She said it is because Koreans believe cats can take revenge on you while you are sleeping.
More to come.

My (more or less) established plan for my post-Korea future: Contract ends early September—I hope to travel around America and Canada from Sept-Dec, visiting friends and family, then will return to NYC come January when I (hope to) start graduate school for social work.. This could all be dashed if I decide to instead:

1. get ‘real’ teaching certification, move to Saudi Arabia or the UAE, live like a nun and save $30-50,000. AND I could legitimately buy a burkini.

2. become a Russian governess and follow my filthy rich Moscow family around the world, all the while teaching some spoiled Russian kid how to engage in proper American discussions, like talking about Gossip Girl.

3. buy tickets for the Trans-Siberian railway and just never get off the train

4. go back to Vietnam and hobo around the country, spending less than a $1 a day

5. couch surf around the world and pretend it’s for some higher purpose other than delaying real life
All these avenues would ultimately enable me to continue this abstracted, unreal reality I’ve felt alternately blessed/doomed to occupy these past 8 months. Four more to go. Less than, really. Will I make it?

Whatever happens, knowing I will be returning to a world that inhabits the people I’ve missed so dearly since being over here—that alone will make these last few months seem less interminable. That and kimchi mandu. And Pizza School.