Hi all!
I have accepted a position teaching English at Bong-Rae Elementary School, a public school in Yeongwol, South Korea. It's in the Gangwon-do province, and the scenery is supposed to be beautiful.
I'm really happy with this decision; I've been talking to an Aussie guy who currently works at the school, Brett, and he really likes it. The town itself is very rural, which actually means there are all kinds of perks associated with the position (most Western English teachers want to go to a city, so there are mad incentives to get them to go to the rural or provincial teaching posts). Personally, I wanted to go somewhere rural, so all the perks are just cool bonuses. I get 200,000 won extra per month (about $150), 35 paid days off instead of 14 (!), and that's not including the national holidays I have off. I also get 15 sick days. The benefits are really good too, pension payments matched by the school district, medical insurance, and so on. Also, I don't have to pay rent; I get my own apartment, which Brett says includes "everything you need, stove, fridge, computer and desk, Internet, TV with western channels..." I do have to pay utilities, but getting about $1400 a month, with utilities and food as my only expense... yowsa!
As far as the town itself goes, it sounds awesome. It's an actual town, with restaurants, a supermarket, shops, doctors, pharmacists, etc, but it's also in the middle of the countryside. The area is known for its great skiing, and Brett says there's great hiking, mountain climbing, rafting, caving (they've got gorgeous limestone caves), and para-gliding.
The elementary school is about to finish building an English Learning Centre, classrooms with fake restaurant and bank, airport etc, to learn situational dialog. Pretty much I'll get to role play a lot with cute Korean elementary schoolers. Sounds good to me!
In order to get my visa I have to get a notarized Criminal Background Check then get an apostille on it. The background check is being a pain in my ass. Apparently there's a three-week backlog of background checks at the state police headquarters. Three weeks! Keep in mind that when I leave is ENTIRELY determined by when I get that background check, apostille, and thus my teacher's visa. Like, if I got my visa tomorrow, I'd be on a plane the day after tomorrow. So this really affects me in a really tangible way.
Luckily, my recruiter says that even though Yeongwol was looking for a teacher sooner than this, he thinks they'll be just fine as long as we do everything we can on our end (ie, as long as it's just the government dragging its feet, not me). His exact words were "The school is looking forward to you arriving, so I guess it’s set in stone." That was definitely a load off of my mind. I was worried that I was annoying them by depriving them of an English teacher for several weeks.
The feeling I get is that, since as I mentioned earlier, rural areas have trouble getting teachers, a teacher reeaally wanting to come to their town to teach at their school is somewhat unusual, and quite welcome. Brett said he didn't even know where in Korea he was teaching until he arrived, so there are probably a fair amount of Western teachers who are fairly reluctantly in the area. So my genuinely wanting to be there, in that particular place, probably does outweigh the fact that my government is making me wait a few weeks. That's just the feeling I get, anyway.
It does sound like a great town and a great place to live, though, doesn't it?
Today's my last day of work, here in Philadelphia. After this I guess I'll be preparing for Korea full-time. My parents are buying me a Korean Rosetta Stone for an early Christmahanukkwanzyuleka present, so I'll spend a lot of the time using that to get at least a basic grasp of Korean.
I figure I'll show up, smile, say "Sorry I'm late, but I really really wanted to come to your town, and look, I even started to learn Korean!" and bat my eyelashes and hopefully they'll like me. And be really nice to the kids and teach them lots of English and make it fun, of course.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The weirdest thing about Philadelphia...
...besides having no Kat, no Lemur, no Andrew, no Space City of a Thousand Teas, no Rocky Horror cast, and no decent kink community...
1.) The local Walgreens does not have any alcohol, and more importantly,
2.) The local Walgreens does not have any Barack Obama books.
OMG OH NOES! I'll have to go to the bookstore to buy Dreams from my Father (which I've heard is much better than the one I have, The Audacity of Hope). How bizarre!
(There are also no Obama cutting boards.)
1.) The local Walgreens does not have any alcohol, and more importantly,
2.) The local Walgreens does not have any Barack Obama books.
OMG OH NOES! I'll have to go to the bookstore to buy Dreams from my Father (which I've heard is much better than the one I have, The Audacity of Hope). How bizarre!
(There are also no Obama cutting boards.)
A Rainstorm: A short story
A Rainstorm
He stepped out onto the porch and found her, finally.
Helena was standing there, in the pouring rain, her red hair drenched and her curls matted against her back and cheeks as raindrop after raindrop pelted her face, arms, neck, shoulders, hands, legs. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were spread away from her gently, palms facing up and fingers curled towards the sky.
“Helena?” Kenneth called. Her white cotton blouse was sticking against her like a second skin and her jeans were several shades darker than they were when dry. “You should come inside. You’ll become ill.”
“I won’t become ill,” she told him, her mouth widening into a smile of pure joy as her eyes remained closed.
“You can’t know that,” he told her sternly. “You need to be careful now, remember?”
This had become an old argument by now, and he waited for the usual reply—that she couldn’t live life afraid of everything, that locking herself in a safe little box was worse than any fate that might result from failing to do so—but to his surprise, this time, she simply said nothing.
“What are you doing out there, anyway?” he tried again.
She took several deep, reverent breaths. “Being,” she answered.
He never quite knew what to do when she entered this sort of flight of fancy.
“You can ‘be’ just as well inside,” he offered.
She lifted her eyelashes, and as she looked at him her eyes twinkled, as though she knew some delicious secret that he did not.
“Yes, I can,” she agreed, but she made no move to step out of the rain.
Kenneth wished that he knew how to reason with her.
Helena held out her hand to him invitingly. “Come and join me.”
He shook his head. “I have no intention of getting soaked to the bone. This is madness. Please come inside.”
Helena lowered her voice conspiratorially. “If you let it, the rain will whisper the secrets of life, of love, of pleasure and pain onto your skin, and it will sink into your soul.”
He wondered, with a sudden pang of alarm, if perhaps Helena had lost her tender grip on reality, had finally gone insane.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked.
She laughed a tinkling wind chime in a leisurely summer breeze. “I’m better than okay. I’m better than amazing. I’m not crazy, Kenneth, I promise. I think maybe I’m saner than I’ve ever been before. Everything’s clear now. I can’t believe how simple it is. I understand.”
“What do you understand, then?” he asked.
Her eyes shone and she beckoned to him. “Come here with me and I’ll tell you,” she whispered, so softly that he could barely hear her voice over the roar of the rain on the roof and the wooden deck.
He reluctantly stepped through the doorway into the downpour. She took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised him. “We don’t have to worry anymore.”
“So you’ve decided what you’re going to do?” he asked as he suppressed a slight shiver. Even in the tropics, the air was chilly during a storm.
She giggled and shook her head. One of the curls held back in her hairclip fell past her shoulder. For some reason, Kenneth found himself transfixed by that curl, and he focused his eyes on it instead of on the woman in front of him. Despite the heavy rain, the lock of hair was dripping slowly, almost methodically. It reminded him of the hospital room, of the IV.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
His own hair had been thoroughly pounded by the rain by now, and it stuck to his forehead and neck as he felt water trickling down his ear.
“But you said everything was clear,” he reminded her. “You must know what you’re going to do.”
“That’s just it!” she cried, grabbing his other hand as well. “You see now, don’t you? You feel it too. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do, or where I’m going to go, or what’s going to happen next. It could be anything. Isn’t it beautiful?”
She leaned in closer to him as she spoke. Her hands tightened around his, and when she looked into his eyes, she was so radiant, her eyes were so filled with the conviction that whatever she felt was the answer, that shining beacon of universal meaning they’d been searching for, that Kenneth did not have the heart to tell her that all he felt was cold, and wet, and rained upon.
He stepped out onto the porch and found her, finally.
Helena was standing there, in the pouring rain, her red hair drenched and her curls matted against her back and cheeks as raindrop after raindrop pelted her face, arms, neck, shoulders, hands, legs. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were spread away from her gently, palms facing up and fingers curled towards the sky.
“Helena?” Kenneth called. Her white cotton blouse was sticking against her like a second skin and her jeans were several shades darker than they were when dry. “You should come inside. You’ll become ill.”
“I won’t become ill,” she told him, her mouth widening into a smile of pure joy as her eyes remained closed.
“You can’t know that,” he told her sternly. “You need to be careful now, remember?”
This had become an old argument by now, and he waited for the usual reply—that she couldn’t live life afraid of everything, that locking herself in a safe little box was worse than any fate that might result from failing to do so—but to his surprise, this time, she simply said nothing.
“What are you doing out there, anyway?” he tried again.
She took several deep, reverent breaths. “Being,” she answered.
He never quite knew what to do when she entered this sort of flight of fancy.
“You can ‘be’ just as well inside,” he offered.
She lifted her eyelashes, and as she looked at him her eyes twinkled, as though she knew some delicious secret that he did not.
“Yes, I can,” she agreed, but she made no move to step out of the rain.
Kenneth wished that he knew how to reason with her.
Helena held out her hand to him invitingly. “Come and join me.”
He shook his head. “I have no intention of getting soaked to the bone. This is madness. Please come inside.”
Helena lowered her voice conspiratorially. “If you let it, the rain will whisper the secrets of life, of love, of pleasure and pain onto your skin, and it will sink into your soul.”
He wondered, with a sudden pang of alarm, if perhaps Helena had lost her tender grip on reality, had finally gone insane.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked.
She laughed a tinkling wind chime in a leisurely summer breeze. “I’m better than okay. I’m better than amazing. I’m not crazy, Kenneth, I promise. I think maybe I’m saner than I’ve ever been before. Everything’s clear now. I can’t believe how simple it is. I understand.”
“What do you understand, then?” he asked.
Her eyes shone and she beckoned to him. “Come here with me and I’ll tell you,” she whispered, so softly that he could barely hear her voice over the roar of the rain on the roof and the wooden deck.
He reluctantly stepped through the doorway into the downpour. She took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised him. “We don’t have to worry anymore.”
“So you’ve decided what you’re going to do?” he asked as he suppressed a slight shiver. Even in the tropics, the air was chilly during a storm.
She giggled and shook her head. One of the curls held back in her hairclip fell past her shoulder. For some reason, Kenneth found himself transfixed by that curl, and he focused his eyes on it instead of on the woman in front of him. Despite the heavy rain, the lock of hair was dripping slowly, almost methodically. It reminded him of the hospital room, of the IV.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
His own hair had been thoroughly pounded by the rain by now, and it stuck to his forehead and neck as he felt water trickling down his ear.
“But you said everything was clear,” he reminded her. “You must know what you’re going to do.”
“That’s just it!” she cried, grabbing his other hand as well. “You see now, don’t you? You feel it too. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do, or where I’m going to go, or what’s going to happen next. It could be anything. Isn’t it beautiful?”
She leaned in closer to him as she spoke. Her hands tightened around his, and when she looked into his eyes, she was so radiant, her eyes were so filled with the conviction that whatever she felt was the answer, that shining beacon of universal meaning they’d been searching for, that Kenneth did not have the heart to tell her that all he felt was cold, and wet, and rained upon.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
I know this is a topic that has been discussed ad nauseum in the traveller community, but I've been thinking about the traveller/tourist distinction lately, and thought that I may as well weigh in on the debate.
As many people on my friends lists are, inexplicably to me, not travel junkies, I'll start by explaining the issue. “Travellers” hate “tourists.” This has been the case for quite some time, actually, as evidenced by quotes from the great minds of bygone eras such as Paul Theroux:
“Tourists don't know where they've been, travelers don't know where they're going.”
or G. K. Chesterton:
“The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.”
It's a distinction that has been very much taken to heart by travellers. But why? Why is it so important to travellers to make this distinction, to try and make it clear that they are most assuredly not tourists?
For one thing, travel is important to travellers. I know this seems like a vacuously true statement, but it needs to be noted nonetheless. Travellers make travel one of the top priorities of their lives; it is a lifestyle, and everything they do relates to it in some way. Even when, like me, they're sitting in some normal American city working a 9-5, Monday-Friday job, they're doing it with one purpose in mind: funding future travel. Do I want to buy that bottle of wine? I could survive for 10 days in Cambodia with that money, so, no thanks. Do I want to go to the movies? That's 15 days in Senegal... I think I'll watch something for free on my computer.
When I'm saving money, greedily watching the number in my checking account tick upward, I am not thinking about buying an iPhone (I'm still using my parents' little phone from 2004), or about a down payment on a house (why would I possibly want something to tie me down to a specific geographical spot?!). I'll admit that I am thinking about paying off my student loans, but only because this is a necessity. What I am really thinking is that it will fund a trip. And when I look into airfare, possible places to visit, there's not even a twinge of guilt at the thought of the amount of money it will cost. I don't think, “Shouldn't I be using it on something more important?”, because there is nothing more important (except, of course, family and close friends). Travel is my priority. That's what the money's there for-- if I don't use it on travel, then what?
When something is that important to you, as to be your passion, your life, well, usually you don't like being equated with a dabbler, a hobbyist. Anyone can be a tourist, and most people from the traveller's home country probably are, at some point in their lives. Nearly everybody in developed countries travels at some point. They call it a vacation, and it's a brief, fun, relaxing diversion from their lives for a week or two.
If a traveller is disdainful of a tourist, it's important to remember that most tourists-- who are tourists for a couple of weeks a year, perhaps, and a local for the rest of it-- are probably equally so of travellers; or rather, they would be, if they ever stopped to think about such people. To them, travellers are just taking an extended vacation, for a year or two or three, almost certainly just trying to dodge real life. To them, travel is a vacation, not a lifestyle.
I think that some of the resistance to tourists is a resistance to the view of travel as diversion. If travellers approached travel the way most tourists do, then they would be drifters wasting their lives away on idleness. Instead, to them, it is the only way to live life to the fullest.
So do I think the tourist/traveller distinction exists? Absolutely. What I don't think is that there is any inherent value judgment attached to either of them-- neither is intrinsically superior or inferior to the other.
I don't think that a tourist necessarily should approach a trip the same way a traveller would. What is everyday life to a traveller is a special treat, and a chance to relax and get away from the pressures of their work for a tourist. And, in more cases than not, I'd wager, the reverse is true: what is everyday life to a tourist is a vacation to the traveller: one of those times when they return home to visit family or friends and take the opportunity of returning to their homeland to relax and catch their breath again.
Everybody treats what they regard to be their “real life” as different from their break. The difference between a tourist and a traveller is only what they consider real life, and what's the breather.
As many people on my friends lists are, inexplicably to me, not travel junkies, I'll start by explaining the issue. “Travellers” hate “tourists.” This has been the case for quite some time, actually, as evidenced by quotes from the great minds of bygone eras such as Paul Theroux:
“Tourists don't know where they've been, travelers don't know where they're going.”
or G. K. Chesterton:
“The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.”
It's a distinction that has been very much taken to heart by travellers. But why? Why is it so important to travellers to make this distinction, to try and make it clear that they are most assuredly not tourists?
For one thing, travel is important to travellers. I know this seems like a vacuously true statement, but it needs to be noted nonetheless. Travellers make travel one of the top priorities of their lives; it is a lifestyle, and everything they do relates to it in some way. Even when, like me, they're sitting in some normal American city working a 9-5, Monday-Friday job, they're doing it with one purpose in mind: funding future travel. Do I want to buy that bottle of wine? I could survive for 10 days in Cambodia with that money, so, no thanks. Do I want to go to the movies? That's 15 days in Senegal... I think I'll watch something for free on my computer.
When I'm saving money, greedily watching the number in my checking account tick upward, I am not thinking about buying an iPhone (I'm still using my parents' little phone from 2004), or about a down payment on a house (why would I possibly want something to tie me down to a specific geographical spot?!). I'll admit that I am thinking about paying off my student loans, but only because this is a necessity. What I am really thinking is that it will fund a trip. And when I look into airfare, possible places to visit, there's not even a twinge of guilt at the thought of the amount of money it will cost. I don't think, “Shouldn't I be using it on something more important?”, because there is nothing more important (except, of course, family and close friends). Travel is my priority. That's what the money's there for-- if I don't use it on travel, then what?
When something is that important to you, as to be your passion, your life, well, usually you don't like being equated with a dabbler, a hobbyist. Anyone can be a tourist, and most people from the traveller's home country probably are, at some point in their lives. Nearly everybody in developed countries travels at some point. They call it a vacation, and it's a brief, fun, relaxing diversion from their lives for a week or two.
If a traveller is disdainful of a tourist, it's important to remember that most tourists-- who are tourists for a couple of weeks a year, perhaps, and a local for the rest of it-- are probably equally so of travellers; or rather, they would be, if they ever stopped to think about such people. To them, travellers are just taking an extended vacation, for a year or two or three, almost certainly just trying to dodge real life. To them, travel is a vacation, not a lifestyle.
I think that some of the resistance to tourists is a resistance to the view of travel as diversion. If travellers approached travel the way most tourists do, then they would be drifters wasting their lives away on idleness. Instead, to them, it is the only way to live life to the fullest.
So do I think the tourist/traveller distinction exists? Absolutely. What I don't think is that there is any inherent value judgment attached to either of them-- neither is intrinsically superior or inferior to the other.
I don't think that a tourist necessarily should approach a trip the same way a traveller would. What is everyday life to a traveller is a special treat, and a chance to relax and get away from the pressures of their work for a tourist. And, in more cases than not, I'd wager, the reverse is true: what is everyday life to a tourist is a vacation to the traveller: one of those times when they return home to visit family or friends and take the opportunity of returning to their homeland to relax and catch their breath again.
Everybody treats what they regard to be their “real life” as different from their break. The difference between a tourist and a traveller is only what they consider real life, and what's the breather.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Decisions have been made...
...and even if they're just contingent decisions, it still feels good.
Here's the deal: If I haven't heard from Peace Corps by the middle of December, I am taking off.
Not in December-- in the middle of February/beginning of March. I should have about $5000 saved up by then. I'll get a free plane ticket to Israel and spend 10 days with my room and board paid for. And then... then I go where the world takes me.
I'll have a few possibilities lined up. Probably I'll arrange an English teaching job maybe 6 months in the future, probably in Asia, and travel overland in 6 months to wherever I have the job. I'll probably sign up for the WWOOF network and work on an organic farm in exchange for room and board. I'll carry a copy of my college diploma so that I can get slightly better jobs, even if I probably can't get a visa while I'm in country.
Now, this doesn't actually mean that I'll definitely be leaving the country in February/March. If the Peace Corps sends me an invite for April or May, then I'll stick around until my departure date and do Peace Corps as planned. So I can't tell anyone with complete confidence just when I'll be leaving. I won't be able to tell you until (a) Peace Corps sends me an invitation (or a denial of medical clearance), or (b) the deadline for a refund of my Birthright deposit passes so I'll be going on that trip.
So as I said: a contingent decision. But a decision nonetheless. I am ready to get out of here, and live the life I've wanted for so long.
Here's the deal: If I haven't heard from Peace Corps by the middle of December, I am taking off.
Not in December-- in the middle of February/beginning of March. I should have about $5000 saved up by then. I'll get a free plane ticket to Israel and spend 10 days with my room and board paid for. And then... then I go where the world takes me.
I'll have a few possibilities lined up. Probably I'll arrange an English teaching job maybe 6 months in the future, probably in Asia, and travel overland in 6 months to wherever I have the job. I'll probably sign up for the WWOOF network and work on an organic farm in exchange for room and board. I'll carry a copy of my college diploma so that I can get slightly better jobs, even if I probably can't get a visa while I'm in country.
Now, this doesn't actually mean that I'll definitely be leaving the country in February/March. If the Peace Corps sends me an invite for April or May, then I'll stick around until my departure date and do Peace Corps as planned. So I can't tell anyone with complete confidence just when I'll be leaving. I won't be able to tell you until (a) Peace Corps sends me an invitation (or a denial of medical clearance), or (b) the deadline for a refund of my Birthright deposit passes so I'll be going on that trip.
So as I said: a contingent decision. But a decision nonetheless. I am ready to get out of here, and live the life I've wanted for so long.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Between McCain's attacks about funding a $3 million scientific project on grizzly bears, and now attacks about funding a $3 million planetarium projector (or, as McCain would say, "overhead projector"), he's coming off as extremely anti-science and research.
I mean, for one thing, in political and academic terms, $3 million grants? Are nothing. We're giving a $700 billion bailout to banks and corporations, and he's quibbling over $3 million on research and education?
Really?
I admit. I'm biased, both in the fact that I already support Obama, and that academia and research are more important to me than to the average voter. But here's the thing: I was open to a McCain presidency. Ask my friends who knew me a few years ago, before Obama really came out as a prime candidate, around 2004 or 2005. I (though I shudder to think of it now) thought McCain was not a bad choice.
Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled that during the first presidential election in which I am allowed to vote, I am able to vote for a candidate, rather than merely against one. But it would have been nice to be only voting for a candidate, and not revile the opponent. A tall order? Perhaps. But even with with his changes to policy and beliefs to suit his campaign, it could have been in order until he chose Palin as his VP and came across, to me, as extremely anti-science and anti-education. Those things make me shudder to think of him in the White House. He sounds like he'd like to cut every piece of government grant funding that isn't directly related to something "useful" (like military or, so he claims, and I would be much happier if I believed, alternative energy*). Shudder. Shudder.
*Not that funding the latter would be bad in the slightest, in fact, emphatically to the contrary. The problem is that I don't believe him, and, further, that it is not the only thing that should be funded.
I mean, for one thing, in political and academic terms, $3 million grants? Are nothing. We're giving a $700 billion bailout to banks and corporations, and he's quibbling over $3 million on research and education?
Really?
I admit. I'm biased, both in the fact that I already support Obama, and that academia and research are more important to me than to the average voter. But here's the thing: I was open to a McCain presidency. Ask my friends who knew me a few years ago, before Obama really came out as a prime candidate, around 2004 or 2005. I (though I shudder to think of it now) thought McCain was not a bad choice.
Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled that during the first presidential election in which I am allowed to vote, I am able to vote for a candidate, rather than merely against one. But it would have been nice to be only voting for a candidate, and not revile the opponent. A tall order? Perhaps. But even with with his changes to policy and beliefs to suit his campaign, it could have been in order until he chose Palin as his VP and came across, to me, as extremely anti-science and anti-education. Those things make me shudder to think of him in the White House. He sounds like he'd like to cut every piece of government grant funding that isn't directly related to something "useful" (like military or, so he claims, and I would be much happier if I believed, alternative energy*). Shudder. Shudder.
*Not that funding the latter would be bad in the slightest, in fact, emphatically to the contrary. The problem is that I don't believe him, and, further, that it is not the only thing that should be funded.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Observation
If you asked a variety of people on the street which one company of the S&P's 500 Stock Index went up Monday, I think a good third of them would be able to answer correctly.
And 99.99% of them would have learned it from the Colbert Report.
Anyone agree? Disagree?
And 99.99% of them would have learned it from the Colbert Report.
Anyone agree? Disagree?
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