On Tuesday, I had a microcosm of a day that manages, I think, to sum it all up.
Tuesday marked my true baptism into the inner circle of hagwon life. Most hagwons are fast-paced and dynamic. Mine is no exception. Having worked in a restaurant for a long time, I'm used to dramatic, unforeseen changes in the work environment. Tuesday was my first schedule change, which means a whole new slate of classes. This stood to be my first "official" full time schedule since joining my school, which means consistency and the ability to start really establishing a rapport with a set of classes. I use "consistency" loosely and with hope but not without the understanding that in a month I may have an entirely new schedule. Its not good. Its not bad. Its just the nature of things.
After a particularly wild, exciting, and unpredictable day of lots of new, expectant faces, I decided to have a drink with a co-worker after work. I was having such a good time that I slipped off without my ever-present backpack. (I've made a habit of absentmindedly leaving and losing things here. Very uncharacteristic for me.) I got all the way back to my neighborhood and checked my Facebook to see that some friends were going out. To those of you who have lived abroad, trying to establish new friendships, you know the exhilaration of getting that first invite from someone who you just met last week. Reaching for my phone, I realize its in my backpack. Where is my backpack? Oh noooo! Its back in Guyeong, at the bar. So I hop a cab back to the bar, Mach 5 walk it three blocks, and luckily they still have my backpack.
Crises averted. Time to go have a drink with new friends. WRONG. My phone is dead. So I get in another cab and tell him "Ulsan University" in hopes that I will find my friends at a common watering hole. Of course, they were not to be found. What I did find was a desolately empty bar. It was a Tuesday night, after all, but what I really wanted was some sort of redemption for my tribulations. The only salvation (so I thought) was to be found in a bartender friend and the establishment's public computer, which is hooked up to a Korean version of Pandora. So I posted up and picked out some favorites, the first things that came to mind really. I've really been missing American rap music so I selected some Lil Wayne, Rick Ross, Big Boi, Kanye, and even that star-studded remix of Dj Khalid's most recent jam. Like chicken noodle soup, it was a familiar taste of home. I even threw on some LCD Soundsystem.
This went a ways towards making me feel better but then I relocated down the bar towards a group of boisterous Korean dudes. My bartender friend introduces them as her cousins. One dude in particular lives in Seoul and worked for the Korean version of MTV and we have a long, Konglish-filled conversation. This rapper sucks, this one rules. Have you heard of 2NE1? How about Girls Generation? The night ended with promises bandied about to meet up in Seoul in a couple of weeks. Gangnam, to be specific. Hopefully!
Through all the hectic happenings, despair, and revelry of the day, I had forgotten to eat anything since lunch. Nothing is open near the bar so I have to cross my fingers to find something back closer to where I live. Through sheer providence (or perhaps because it was their regular hours), I end up parking it at this noodle tent. The chef, a youngish dude, speaks some English and is very accommodating. He evens hands me a small cup of the broth he is preparing for my ramen and says "Taste test?". Needless to say, my bowl of seafood ramen was transcendent, especially on such a cold night, after such an exasperating yet fulfilling day. I told him in English he would be called "chef" and continued to call him chef throughout my entire spell sitting there slurping on his delicious, humble ramen. I'm pretty sure that he appreciated the gesture.As much as life abroad can be trying, it can also be incredibly redemptive. This says it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment