Observations on the first day

[This post has been delayed a bit due to lack of internet connection. It should be dated July 25.]

Koreans are very lovable, and, for the most part, very western. Maybe I should say specifically American, since I have a co-teacher who is English, and some things, I think, make her feel slightly out of place (e.g. they drive on the right and they speak—and expect to be taught—American English). On the first day, I was met at the airport by Vicki (all Koreans I have met so far have English names in addition to their Korean names—some of the students like to change their English name daily) a high ranking teacher, 30 years old, wearing baggy jeans and a blue tank top and looking about 17. We drove into Bucheon—Vicki, Alex (another American teacher who arrived at the same time), and I, and we turned off the expressway onto a bustling neon-plated square that looked like Tokyo from an eighties movie. “Here is your apartment!” Vicki said. I live in a corner room with big windows that are filled all night with flashing lights and that do not at all keep out the music coming from the Jonathan Jazz Bar across the street. A quick catalogue of recognizable signs seen from my window: “G-zone PC”, a PC room; “Human & Nature Patio Hair”, which, I believe is a salon (n.b. there are swirling barbershop signs on every building); “Photo Studio”; “Q Bar”; two more PC rooms; “Samsung Billiards”; “Edu One Korean Combination Consulting” (I have no idea what that is); and a neon Christian cross.

But, when I woke up on my first morning and went outside for a bottle of water (I was told not to drink from the tap), the streets were deserted. Even now at 11:30am, there are only one or two pedestrians, one or two cars. The lights belie the fact that this is no bursting, bustling Seoul. Walking around midday, the streets feel more like downtown Racine than downtown New York. But go out at night after work, and the streets are filled with revelers. There are wide alleyways off the main streets in Bucheon that are open only to pedestrians and that create a sort of town-square, Roman-forum feeling. At night, all of the bars and restaurants set up tables in these alleys, and each night they are filled. Both nights so far I ate and drank in the pedestrian alleyway behind my school. And both nights I have been compelled to drink more than I might have wanted. Social drinking is a big deal here. Last night, we all went out with the boss. He is a small man, 5’4’’ and skinny, and he doesn’t know much English, but when he speaks you listen. For one thing, he is about as funny as they come, always joking about something, and always always challenging you to down your whole drink. “One shot” they chant. You do what he says: he’s the boss. It is your duty to get drunk if your boss demands it, but it is his duty to pay the bill. They call this the Land of the Morning Calm and now I understand why: everyone is hungover.

I’ll write on other things, including my job, soon. Stay tuned.