The Benefits and Bummers of Courtside 6th Floor

The weather is quite nice right now, and after sleeping with the windows open last night, I decided to reflect on the pluses and minuses of living courtyard-side on the sixth floor in my box-shaped apartment building.

Benefits:
a. Hidden from direct sunlight, resulting in cooler natural temperature (and lower electric
bill) during heated times.
b. Secluded from street noises (though the "rice cakes!" salesman's voice is still heard at 3am).
c. Situated above five floors; during the wintertime, heat from the lower floors rises, resulting
in warmer default temperature (and lower electric bill) during chilled times.
d. Hidden from street light.

Bummers:
a. Hidden from direct sunlight, resulting in vitamin D deficiency and moody mood within
apartment confines.
b. View of cream-colored walls and apartment windows across the gap.
c. During days of nice weather, fresh air polluted by cigarette smoke rising from smokers
below.
d. During nights of nice weather, quiet air polluted by noisy drunks and noisy lovers (last night
was ridiculous).

The DeBiking

The blue and grey "Lespo Sidewinder" seemed safe and sound, sitting beside the subway entrance whilst strapped to the bicycle rack. I gave it what turned out to be its last goodbye, through the spokes of the front wheel lacing the loop of the lock and latching it around the bar rack. Down from the subway I returned the next day.
Some ugly, old, slightly rusty piece-of-crap bike stood where my bike was supposed to be secured. I wondered, "Didn't I leave my bike right here?" Then I headed off to my Korean lesson, late, because some stinking kid or looney drunk had taken from me my mobility.

English-on-Korean (Caption) Action

Last weekend, before going to play some hockey (I hadn't played floor hockey since high school; lots of pain following the matches) I saw a boy, aged maybe 11 or 12, T-Shirt emblazoned across the chest with phrase: "The guns." On each side of the phrase were arrows directing the reader to the boy's arms, where his biceps muscles were supposed to rest.
Underneath the previously stated phrase was another: "The weapon." Below that a downward-pointing arrow beginning below the navel area...
I couldn't contain myself for a minute or two. I'm a foreigner, though, so I was allowed to show emotion in public, even if it was laughter and amusement.
Yesterday, at the bus stop, a woman about my age got off at the stop where I awaited my bus #7. Across her hat: "PIMP." I love it.

The Land of Morning Calm Leaves Me Restless

I am somewhat enjoying the ropes of classes now that Gena (the expert cook, amongst other areas of "expertise" including the music of Eminem and Steven King) is gone. A trip to Japan made me realise that fun exists out anywhere: you just need to find the means and proper company whose energy and ideas off which you can feed. Funny that I saw this more clearly while there, considering that Tokyo is so beautiful and full of energy and excitement, spotless, like a city from a futuristic cartoon.

As one concerned with the concept of time moving faster with every increase in one's age, I found the feeling of weeks/weekends blurring together disturbing. Always meeting for dinner followed by drinks in the bar, sitting there only listening to the talk because all I can think about is how I'm always just working and studying Korean and then always end up drinking and doing nothing (but drinking) on the weekends. Simply being a muse leaves me unamused. I need some inspiration to come alive, some spark that gives me drive.

I recently received a surprise email from a Minnesotan who I'd met during my previous year in Korea. He's back in Seoul. He'd left for the States last time, and I thought he'd be settling there. This is the guy who one night (at 5am) slithered like a snake across the floors of cars on the subway, his shirt changing from a light blue to light brown in the process, then proceeded to run up every "down" escalator upon his exit of the deep underground subway, screaming "Bulgogi!" (marinated beef) all the way. So maybe life will have a little more zing to it in the coming months.

Falling

I rode my bike to school the other day. Usually if the weather's good, this is the case. The other day was special, though.
Pedaling up the sidewalk up to my school, the sidewalk disappeared. A long pool of sand, similar to a track-and-field long-jump pit, lay in the sidewalk's place. Undeterred, I rolled on through the sand - almost.
Just before the pit finished, my bike's front wheel sank into the sand, slowing the bike to a halt in about half of a second. Bookbag hanging on my left side, my balance immediately shifted in that direction. At the same time, I noticed the sizeable gray pile of wet concrete. As my bike fell, I stuck out my left hand. The concrete gave way until I was wrist-deep.
I looked up, out in front of my school. No buses had arrived yet. As a matter-of-fact, nobody was around to witness this silly white man's folly.
I locked my bike up outside, went into the school, to the bathroom and washed my hand.

Doom Swings

Gena, my coworker, announced her resignation yesterday. By July 14th, she'll be gone. Hopefully, the hagwon can find someone able to cook. Otherwise, the childrens' appetites and health are at my mercy!
I've gotten sick of teaching the little kids lately. Trying to think of ways that I can have this teaching tots situation contribute to my greater future. How to piece it into the long run?
How to convince myself, justify that I'm not wasting my time? I will find a way, if I want to survive. I must find a way.

"Today is B.I. Day"

Every Wednesday, Kiwi Teacher and Berry Teacher (me) teach science and cooking to the morning kiddie classes. These days are known in Banana Island as "B.I. Days." Certain recipes (i.e. pork meatballs or cookies) require advanced preparation and testing before we give them a go in class. Science usually does not require any sort of pre-class jump-start to allow the kids to complete the experiment during the allotted 30-minute class period. Wednesday is a different day of teaching than the rest of the days, and I usually feel beat at the end of the day. Today is Tuesday.
I went to teach morning math to Bana Star Class. The room lay empty with the light (as always) left on. "What!?" I hear Kiwi Teacher (Gena) exclaim. At this point, I knew today was "special." Maybe a video or some other group activity? She turns around, white as a ghost, mouth hanging loosely, eyelids nowhere to be seen, looking directly at me. I knew the scenario just before she began to speak. "We're doing B.I. Day today!?" She saw my heart thumping away in my eyes. It was 10:05. I needed to have cookies baked and ready for my first class at 10:30.
"Yeah, I told you guys!" says Jane, the Korean-American teacher from California who usually does translations for us when Mrs. Lee (the boss) wants to tell us something. I looked at Jane and Gena in disbelief. Then I ran to the office room/copy room/storage closet to grab my black apron with the yellow neck strap.
The previous week, Mrs. Lee had several times called us to talk after school about some intended schedule changes. She would tell us in English "schedule change," then explain to Jane in Korean, who would tell us in English "there is a schedule change." Gena rolled her eyes. "That tells us nothing." Jane would ask Mrs. Lee once again, who'd say "these classes are together" and explain to Jane in Korean, who'd tell us, "I don't know, I think these two classes are together now."
Headache. "Write the new schedule down for us, I have no idea what these pen circles mean," Gena told Mrs. Lee. It was the end of our shift, time for me to go catch the bus to my Korean class in Seoul.
At another little meeting two weeks ago, we were informed the B.I. Day had been moved from Wednesday to Friday to closer coincide with the the holiday, Children's Day. Mother's Day was supposed to be the holiday, we thought, but Mother's Day doesn't happen until the 13th. "Change," Mrs. Lee said. Korean Mother's Day happens a week earlier than Western Mother's Day, and Mrs. Lee wanted us to change for the Children's Day holiday, which happened the same week as Korean Mother's Day this year.
The curriculum has us celebrating Mother's Day, with special "I love you Mom" crafts the Korean teachers teach and heart-shaped Mother's Day cookies that Gena and I teach the kids to eat. So we shifted the Mother's Day B.I. Day to the week of western Mother's Day and we shifted the B.I. Day to Friday for Children's Day. Problem solved.
As it turned out (and we today found out), we also shifted the Mother's Day B.I. Day to Tuesday this week (today), in order to accomodate for the Korean Parent's Day holiday, which apparently also falls on this week. "Okay, this is the greatest short-term challenge you've faced in quite some time," I told myself. "Don't screw up."
In the kitchen. While I began mixing sugar, baking soda, flour and ginger, in a bowl, Gena started coughing uncontrollably while trying to grab all the necessary ingredients from the refrigerator and grasp the current situation. She managed to whisper "Asthma -cough- attack." She got up from her chair. I filled a cup of water.
In the copy room/cell phone lobby/office, Gena pulls her inhaler from her bag. I put the cup of water in front of her. Secretary Jennifer, Kate Teacher and Jane were in the office with her. "Can I help you get anything ready?" Jane asked me.
"Yeah, let me see what I can think of."
In the kitchen, looked at the instructions, mixed butter into the dough. "I told you guys before," Jane said again. "Put some flour on the cutting board," I responded. No use trying to argue over who should have done what and who messed up. At least not at the moment.
Gena recovered from her asthma fit, I followed the dough directions successfully and, through maintaining my cool, managed the surprise B.I. Day well. The gingerbread cookies were actually delicious. Intense situation resolved.
I'm still trying to think of at least some type of organization to implement that'll make stuff like this not happen again. I do now vaguely remember one time hearing something a couple weeks ago about a B.I. Day being moved to a Tuesday. There is no general whiteboard "Daily Calendar" with the dates written in, like at that horrible Wonderland where I worked last year.
Probably I took for granted that I'd hear about the schedule change again sometime within the next two weeks. Not totally unreasonable. But still... Jane is going to put a neon-yellow sheet of construction paper on our bulletin board, on which she (and we) will tack important memos.

At least, that's the idea.