I have so much to write about my school and the students! Hard to believe I’ve been there only three days. Hopefully I can knock that out this weekend, though – I am beat every day when I get home and it’s hard to write much in that state. Suffice to say that, if I don’t crash and burn (which is a distinct possibility – I feel a bit like I’m trying to keep my balance on top of a rolling log now), I hit the jackpot in terms of teaching environment.
No, the harder challenge has been feeding myself.
See, you may not know this about me, but I get a bit anxious at social situations. I hate looking like an idiot, so when I’m confronted with a situation I don’t really understand, I tend to avoid and put it off until I’m “better prepared” or I have no choice. Now, in Korea, ANY situation I wander into I’m going to look like an idiot. I can read a menu, but I don’t know what any of the words mean. I don’t know numbers. I don’t know how payment works – do I do it at the counter, or at the table, or…?
So, I will wander the streets around my apartment in the evenings, where I am reminded that I am NOT a city boy at heart. It’s a pulsating, throbbing mass of people and flashing lights, looking like Las Vegas:
Within 1 square kilometer of my apartment, there are approximately 1,496 restaurants. Naturally, I can find no place to eat. Some places have live eels outside – bit of a turnoff to my delicate stomach. Others are full of crowds of Korean businessmen drinking together on the floor – well, I don’t wanna be the only person there without a group. This one, too expensive, that one, too sketchy looking. And so I wander as my hunger gradually grows. Eventually it will outweigh my anxiety and I’ll pick a place, go in, and eat.
Last night, it was sushi. I screwed my courage to the sticking place, went inside, and told the staff to find a table for 1.* I stumbled through “I am an American and speak no Korean other than this speech,” which the staff took graciously, and actually the sushi was really delicious! The wasabi was so hot it still stings my nostrils. I had wonderfully soothing tea and a salad, too, all for a very reasonable price (which is good since I haven’t gotten a paycheck since May 31st).
Today, as I was wandering a convenience store searching for laundry detergent, I also stumbled upon a treasure: Spaghetti and tomato sauce, right next to each other! what joy!
So I happily broke in my apartment’s stove (no ovens in Korea) and made a lovely spaghetti dinner for myself. There’s something wonderfully comforting about that. It was my first time eating inside the apartment (“flat,” a treacherous part of my brain that clearly spent too much time around the UK teachers keeps whispering). I think that the act of eating a meal in a place is part of what transforms a place to live into a home. Now I sit here, snuggled up in bed,** next to my glorious picture window with a view of the city, and feel – well, sort of like I have a home here.
*I’m so lonely. 😦
**It’s 7:45. :I
Gwangju Dreaming 