With Spit On Sidewalks

Day 20

Alive?  Check.  

Functioning?  Check.  

Loving it?  Kind-of check.

A typical Seoul street, on my route from home to work.  
Koreans tend to drive white, gray, and black cars, and that's about it. 

...Let's break that last one down.  

I love testing out my Korean; even if it's nothing more than, "hello" [anneonghasseyo], seeing the response that such strange sounds provoke always makes me smile.  You can imagine, then, how much fun I have buying vegetables from street vendors, where I get to say a whole, "I'd like this" [igoe jooseyo], or taking a taxi, when I pull out the real mama whopper, "I'd like to go to Daecheong Station" [daecheong yeok kajooseyo].  Sometimes the response isn't exactly what I imagine it being - for example, being sold a whole bucket full of garlic instead of just a few cloves - but that's what keeps me curious.

This potent, tangy fruit tea was the first thing that I successfully ordered
after reading the name, 오미자차 [omijacha] "five flavor tea," from the
Korean writing in the menu. 

That reminds me, while we're on the topic of buying and selling, everywhere you go here, you'll find someone selling something.  Literally, everywhere.  The other day, I was on the subway, when a middle-aged man carrying a large satchel walked on and started speaking with great vigor and passion.  Before I knew it, every other train rider had a toothbrush in hand.  The riders on either side of me examined their freshly gained chopper-scrubbers with genuine interest and then, just as jealously was beginning to grow within me, he swooped back around and re-collected each individual toothbrush - all except one, that is, for which an older lady exchanged a couple thousand won.  

A typical Seoul sidewalk, where cars, pedestrians,
vendors, and motorbikes compete. 

Oh, and the food... I kind-of love the food.  You see, I've only eaten a couple genuine Korean meals so far, so I'm afraid I can't give a very accurate evaluation.  I can say, though, that my English vocabulary is inadequate to describe this nation's flavors; I've never tasted anything quite like it... its force often intimidates my tastebuds.  The first Korean meal I ate was some sort of spicy chicken soup, which I didn't mind, but consumed slowly, and the second was a hotpot-style meal called shabu-shabu (a phrase borrowed from Japanese, meaning, "swish-swish").

In the latter dish, taste and experience go hand-in-hand.  Everyone at the table is poured their own pot of boiling water, kept hot by a built-in burner.  Then, each person receives a platter of thinly-sliced raw meat, usually beef, and a plate of raw vegetables, usually a diverse mix of leafy greens.  You can guess what happens next; it's cook-your-own.  The vegetables take a few minutes to cook, but the meat cooks after just a swish-swish; it's actually pretty fun!  Next time I eat out, I'll see if I can remember to snap a quick shot for you.  In the meantime, try to imagine how a pickled radish would taste... I'll give  you a hint: it's yellow. 

Okay, that's all the breaking I'll do on that point.  

Let's move on to a popular question, a fascinating story, and, at last, an explanation of this post's title.  

Popular Question: How's teaching going??

See where it says "DYB" in white on the 4th floor of that building;
that's the middle school that I've been working at.
Below and around are restaurants, a bakery, and several unknowns.
It's crazy how many different things can fit into one building.
Plus, there's always something more underground!

Answer: I'm still "in training," which consists partially of a nice observation/teaching combo and partially, perhaps mostly, of substitute teaching for who-knows-who at who-knows-where.  So far, I've worked exclusively with middle school kids (grades 7-9), but this coming week, I'm forecasted to move to the elementary school.  It's fun to see different groups of kids and experiment relentlessly with a wide variety of approaches and activities, but the transiency of it all makes it difficult to really sink into the role.  The reason that my training period is abnormally long (most teachers only train for 1-2 days before they start teaching full-time!) is that I have been assigned to work at the new branch which has yet to open.  Last I heard, they're shooting for early-November, so, until then, it looks like I'll keep floating.

A classmate (I attended my first Korean class last weekend) and I
outside Insadong, a famous, ever-bustling tourist market. 

Fascinating Story: Last Thursday, several foreign teachers, including myself, were asked to attend a formal Parents' Meeting for the new branch (yeah, the one I'll be working at).  It was held in at Olympic Parktel, a large, fancy building near Olympic Park.  After traveling there, we were immediately asked to begin rehearsing our performance.  "Performance?" we asked confusedly, only to be assured by the old-timers that they'd survived worse.  But, just as we began discussing the fabled event, we were ushered away to begin greeting.  They placed us to the right of the entrance.  Our task: bow, without making eye contact, and loudly greet each passerby.  Simple enough, but picture it... The other foreign teachers and I were part of a great brigade of greeters.  Korean staff, dressed in their best, lined the path from the parking lot all the way up to the doors of the auditorium.  They also bowed and greeted each attendee with perfect poise and unity.  The whole scene was quite impressive, to say the least.  

Then, after all 500 parents had arrived, we resumed work on our performance, which turned out to be a cheer for our school, complete, of course, with actions.  After rehearsing the ditty (which, by the way, reminded me of the team cheer that our cabin created at outdoor school in 4th grade) for quite some time, we were whisked into the beaming auditorium for a legitimate five minutes of fame.  Before we began, the founder of the school explained, "At this time, the foreign teachers will demonstrate their teamwork," and we, masking all doubt and embarrassment, took it from there.  "Give me a D... D! ..."  The crowd went wild.  Fascinating...

Another shot taken at Insadong.  This time including our
substitute Korean teacher / vitally helpful tour guide for the day. 

Explanation: In general, Korea is a very clean city.  The streets are regularly swept and relatively fresh air can  almost always be found in a nearby park.  Korean people, also, tend to look very clean - especially the businessmen.  Their suits are pressed, their hair is combed, and their posture is impeccable.  Because they (yes, I realize that this is a generalization and I acknowledge that there are exceptions) present themselves so well, I find any oddities rather amusing.  For example, seeing someone so poised and polished suddenly bolt across the street after a blinking crosswalk sign or dash down three flights of stairs in hopes of catching that last subway, is just kind of funny.  And what's more, they often spit, no matter where they are, which is usually on the sidewalk.

It's just another peculiarity, really - something that I wouldn't expect and don't understand, but that isn't wrong and doesn't have to change.  The way I see it, there are lots of those here.

***

The city at night, captured from the backseat of a speeding taxi. 

So far, I've tried to cover the basics - routine, divergences, observations; but remember, if you have any questions or particular interests, be sure to let me know and I'll see what I can do to investigate for you.  And as always, if this post spurred any memories of your own, don't hesitate to comment!  

Thanks for reading :)