Back by popular demand, a new post! Well, I guess you could call two whole people reminding me that I haven't posted in awhile 'popular demand.'
A lot has happened since my last post. I've moved into my brand spankin' new apartment, which is slightly larger than a shoebox but squeaky clean with lots of storage space to house my imaginary possessions. It's unfurnished except for a built-in desk and bookshelves. To save on space, instead of buying a bed, I bought a floormat that can be easily rolled up and shoved behind my imaginary lazyboy, which I recline in while watching my imaginary tv or listening to my imaginary radio. I don't get paid until November 7. Until then it's me, my floormat and books. Lots of books. Luckily I've found an English bookstore that sells used books for less than $10 each. Good thing, as I go through about three books a week.
I started work on Monday, and am on vacation the rest of the week. It's Chuseok, Korean Thanksgiving. I can't say it's a much-needed or well-deserved vacation, given that I haven't worked since June. I wish I could transport these days off to Christmastime, where I will get a measly one day off. I don't get to choose when I take my vacation time. I get about one day off a month, designated by my company. I don't know when I'll be able to come home.
Judging from one day of work, I can tell it's not going to be tough. My largest class size is seven people, and the smallest is two. There's no testing and no grading to be done, and minimal preparation for each class. I teach six conversation classes: a level six (advanced), three level fours and two level threes (both intermediate). My students are mostly in their twenties, with the exception of one businessman in his late thirties, Felix (which he pronounced "Palex"). Stammering through our first conversation, he apologized, fanning his face: "I am sorry. You are so beautiful." It's funny to think that here I'm the exotic one.
I've met loads of other teachers and foreign professionals here, and I am slowly acquiring the skill of distinguishing between Australian, New Zealander, British and South African accents. I'm still pretty pitiful at it, so to be on the safe side I never guess aloud. That's a quick way to piss off an Aussie: ask them if they're from New Zealand, or vice versa. Canadians sound just like Americans til they let an 'eh' or an 'aboot' slip out, and apparently, just like the Aussie-New Zealand thing, they also get pissed if you call them American.
Seoul really is a city that never sleeps. Well, that's not true. People sleep, only they do it on the subway. More than once I've had to gently shrug the head of a snoring student or businessman off my shoulder. It's not uncommon, either, to see sharply-dressed businessmen in pinstriped suits passed out on a curb with a briefcase as pillow. Cars drive by, barely missing a splayed arm or leg. Such a sight is the result of too much soju, a Korean vodka-ish drink that I affectionately call the Drink of the Devil. In one of my classes on Monday a student asked me if I had ever tried soju. When I responded affirmatively, all my students let out a long collective 'ohhhhhh.' I've heard of people blacking out while on soju, losing three-hour-long chunks of memory to the soju demons. Being the responsible drinker that I am, this has not happened to me. Yet. The thing is, soju isn't really a strong drink. You can drink shots of it without too much of a burn going down. That's the problem though: it sneaks up on you. Again, being the responsible drinker I am, this has not happened to me. But from what I've heard, one moment you're fine, sipping soju at a restaurant, and the next moment you're up on a table at a karaoke room, throwing the microphone into the tv, and then shelling out big bucks to pay for all the stuff you broke. From what I've heard.
