Hey, part deux of Stephen's first week in Korea. Since I am using the school's computer, I get kicked off if one of the Korean teachers needs to use it. Also, it is bloody hot in here since there is no AC and five humming computers.

So expect this to be short.

OK, once again, I'm sorry for not updating more often. My parents informed me that my computer is now fixed, so in a week or two I will have the ability to update more often. The PC I am now using at the hagwon is far from ideal for blogging. In the room next to me a group of 90 or so Korean students is learning to sing "A Whole New World" from the Disney movie "Aladdin." It is hard to imagine something more distracting.

I just finished my second day at ESS Best Junior Academy in the Nampo-Dong district of Pusan. This would have been day three except classes were cancelled yesterday as Typhoon (not hurricane) Nabi stormed up the Sea of Japan. Julie and I battled a stinging torrential downpour driven into our faces by 40-knot winds as we tried to buy groceries yesterday at the Home Plus store, Korea's version of Wal-Mart.

Rewind four days.

Reality began to creep back into my conscienceness around 9a.m. Friday morning. Far below the sounds of the high school drill squad filtered up into my room. A woman somewhere nearby began yelling "Seeeeeeeetaaaaaaan!" "Seeeeeetaaaaaaan!" Laundry! Laundry! Let me sleep, damnit! I'm not ready to wake up and face the Kimch'i just yet!

I was stuck fast to my blankets by sweat. It was as hot and humid as Mississippi in August and the window had been open all night. My 10 by 8-foot room was sauna-esqe.
I rummaged through my luggage for a few minutes before discovering that I had left my towel, shampoo and soap in Montana. This was to be a standing dilemma for the next four days.

Julie invited me for a walk on the beach. We live in a twenty-floor high-rise apartment called Hamjigreen. I walked out the front door and discovered dozens of similar structures lining the coast as far as the eye can see to the east like sentinels against some coming invasion of originality. The only thing that differentiated one building from another was the number stamped to it's gray, featureless side. I lived on the 12th floor of building 109.

We walked down long flights of steep stairs past building 104 and 105, crossed a road and walked down still more stairs before we were standing on the ocean's edge. Let the record show this is only the third time I have ever seen the Pacific ocean, and as usual, she didn't disappoint. Approaching Typhoon Nabi had sent an envoy of ten-foot breakers to remind the people of Korea who was really in charge. They slammed into the naked rock of Young-Do island, sending sea spray high into the sky. Julie and I decided to forego swimming in the murderous surf, choosing to walk instead.

A series of ladders, catwalks and stairways wound their way up and around the craggy shoreline. The waves crashed around us as we walked past fishermen and Buddhist shrines. We paused to soak our feet in a tidal pool. We talked.

Julie is from Montreal, Canada. She had recently graduated from the University of Montreal with a degree in International Business and had decided to try teaching English in Korea. She had arrived here nearly 10 month ago, first teaching for a different hagwon called YBM. After working for YBM for six months, a friend had helped her land the job at ESS. Teaching jobs in Korea are a dime a dozen, and they all pay reasonably well. If you aren't happy with your current job, quit and another hagwon will pick you up within a matter of days. Michael, one of the other teachers at ESS, helped Julie find this job.

After the walk we ate breakfast and prepared to go to work. When I had originally contacted the school about the job, they promised me five days of training during which I would watch the other teachers and take notes. Turned out I got one. Today. Friday, the easiest day of the week.

Julie had a motorcycle. So did Dennis and Michael. One of the perks of being white, unable to speak the language and American is that the police almost cannot touch you. It is impossible to bust someone for an illegal U-turn when they can't read the signs, right? I exaggerate. It is easier to argue your way out of trouble here. Just shrug your shoulders and mumble some garbled Korean.

Julie's bike was cheap, around $500 USD. She got it from another teacher on the way out of Korea, and she'll probably sell it to me or some other wetback. Who knows how many American and Canadian teachers had saddled up the rusty red 125cc bike over the years. The odometer read 38,000 miles.

But we didn't take the bike to work. We walked to the corner of the street and caught the 508 bus to the school. The harbor flashed by as the bus wound it's way around the twisty road towards Nampo-dong. A few turns through Yeoung-do proper and we were crossing one of two bridges over the busy Pusan harbor. Old rusty fishing boats with sharply raked bows headed out to sea while stout tugboats lined with old car tires nudged gigantic container ships into their moorings to be unloaded. Welders tended to vessels in dry dock while seagulls and pigeons surfed the air currents looking for a snack.

Our bus let us off smack in the middle of downtown Nampo-dong. Julie and I ducked into a subway to cross the busy intersection. Tiny stands selling everything from purses to gold watches lined the smelly terminal. We emerged onto the street leading to ESS, choked with stores, restaurants and shops of all colors and services. My mind was flooded with the sight, smell and feel of it all, but especially the smell. The air was hot and stank the way one might imagine a city would. Food, garbage and exhaust blended with the combined stench of millions of people pressed in far to close together to make a noxious cocktail offensive to the nose but fascinating to the mind.

All that I had to remind me of home was a McDonalds one hundred yards from the Hagwon. The Golden Arches contrasted sharply against the very alien Korean script advertising familiar fare such as Big Macs and McFlurries. A few more steps and we were at the door to the school. A school bus backed into a narrow alleyway and a gaggle of children jumped out. "Teacher! Teacher!" they yelled and flung themselves into Julie's arms.

All around us was the Nampon-dong shopping district, with it's bars, coffee and soda shops and yes, McDonalds. I couldn't help but think of the heated debate taking place in America over whether or not to allow sodapop machines in our public schools. With a few coins and a minute or two the children in our hagwon could access all sorts of sugary accutrements (sp?) at will and a lot worse if they were so inclined. Later on I was to discover that the back door to ESS lead to a convenience store selling candy, coke and even porno mags. It quickly put things in perspective.

Well, got to go. The school is closing and Mr. Ye says I have to go home. BUT STAY TUNED! Part three of Stephen's first week in Korea starts tomorrow. Good night.

--Notes

PS--Please forgive me the spelling mistakes. All of the tabs, buttons and links on this computer are in Korean and I have racked my brain trying to find the spell checker, to no avail.