Gout Attack – Wednesday, December 6th 2000 (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
I’ve had an attack of gout for about a week. The last attack I had been four years ago but of course, it always comes at an inconvenient time. Last time was when I was on holiday in Asia and it quite ruined things for me. Now I’ve started training and the day after I took my yellow belt I get an attack and it can really be very painful. It’s a horrid pain that niggles and niggles and ruins your outlook on the day by sucking away all your energy. All I can equate it to is having a hot knife prized into the joint of your big toe. In the UK doctors usually prescribe Allopurinol which takes six months to take effect. In my case the gout is hereditary and is caused by the body’s inefficiency to remove uric acid from the blood which then crystallizes at a point where the blood is cooler – such as the big toe. Gout has been such an integral part of my life that I’ve learnt a lot about it and have tried most of the alternative remedies to alleviate it – eating cherries, charcoal, allo vera juice and so forth. In Germany it is called ‘gicht’ and now it has become one of the first words I can say and even write in Korean – dong poong (동풍). This is derived from Chinese and means something like pain of wind which perhaps refers to the waves of pain for which it is associated. One moment the pain has gone and the next it swoons upon you to the extent you could almost cry. I always remember my dad having gout attacks and sometimes he couldn’t even bear to have a cotton sheet draped over his foot whilst in bed.
On Tuesday, the gout wasn’t feeling too bad so I went training. We had another session of Korean Tai chi which pleased me as I didn’t have to put too much stress on my foot. However, next morning it was back with a vengeance. I was depressed as Korea is becoming nothing but a trip in pain of various types. I haven’t done anything at the weekends since I have been here as I am constantly nursing injuries or aches and pains. Everything that could go wrong with my body has. My skin is dry and my nose is dry and sore both caused by the ondol heating system of Korean houses – this is basically heating built into the floors and which you cannot escape from. I have a tooth that has a sore gum and keeps bleeding this being caused by a new toothbrush which I have since replaced by an electric one. My heels are sore and cracked and I have a small septic spot on the corner of a finger. I decided to go to the doctor about the gout but as yet I don’t have the medical insurance which was part of my contract. There wasn’t time to ask Koreans or Nana about procedures, he is working so I hobbled down the road to a health center which I have often passed.
I have come to realise that Song-so is slightly up market and the health center was fantastic – six floors of specialist of every type, eye doctors, renal specialists and so forth. My doctor (who I still use 16 years later) had prior experience of gout. In the waiting room I only had to wait fifteen minutes and it was equipped with a TV, plants, big sofas and luxurious carpets. The medical equipment looked modern and the blood pressure machine was automatic and not that antediluvian sphymometer thing. The doctor spoke English and was really helpful, further, he didn’t waste time checking whether or not I had gout. In the UK you’d think gout pills were hallucinogenic because of the barriers they put in place to stop you getting them. There have been numerous times when gout has messed my plans up, especially my training. Even going on a diet or taking protein supplements can evoke an attack. The doctor gave me some drugs, I have no idea which ones but 24 hours later and the attack had subsided. The cost of my visit was eight pounds. The pain and swelling has gone but I decided to rest from training for the next week.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
Do You Remember Ding Ding Dang? – Monday, November 27th 2000 (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
This evening Nana and I went out with Roger who works at a school called Ding Ding Dang (note – in 2000, Ding Ding Dang was a major English academy franchise – certainly around Daegu – it now seems to have disappeared). We went to a marinated pork restaurant. I do like Korean food but it seems void of fat, sugar or salt though I am sure salt is used in the kimchi process. A Korean meal never seems to fill you and they don’t seem to eat large quantities of meat. There are restaurants everywhere, some serve noodles, or barbecues which can be pork or beef, or chicken but usually you don’t find pork and beef alongside chicken. Then there are places which serve kimbap (김밥) – fish stick or cheese rolled in rice and covered in seaweed. One of my favourites is ddeokpogi (떡볶이) which is various size noodles, with a boiled egg and cabbage served in a hot spicy sauce. This also has a strange fish strips in it, called odeng, made from powdered fish. Often a plate of ddeokpogi (떡볶이) is crowned with mandu (만두) pancakes. A big plate of this in a restaurant is usually shared and costs only a few pounds.
Tonight however, we had pork barbecue and all the side dishes but there was some kind of noodle side dish with very strange little green things in them which resembled scrunched up testicles and we couldn’t fathom which animal or anatomical part they came from. I have since discovered these are a sea product, mideodeok (미더덕) but I’m still not sure whether they are animal or vegetable. They are often found in kimchi-chi-gae. We drank a few bottles of soju and the bill came to 10.000 won each which is around six pounds.
On Monday I was back in school after giving Dong-soo his English lesson. I went to taekwon do in the evening and all was going well until I pulled a fucking hamstring in my left leg. It happened right at the end of the class. Almost at exactly the same time as I pulled it, Dong-soo told me I was to be graded the following evening by Master Bae.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
Teachers’ Party and Andong – Friday November 17th 2000 (Korean Accounts 2001-2001)
Today, I called into the taekwondo school to give Mr Park, one of the instructors, an English lesson. In classes he often ends up instructing me as he is the only one who can speak a little English. I’ve been beginning to think he might find this task tedious and so I offered to teach him. He’s a very good martial artist, very fast and agile but then he only weighs about two stone. I guess he is aged about 22—24 but it is hard to tell as Korean men have little facial hair and have very boyish looks. His pronunciation is actually very good and he doesn’t have the problems with ‘p’s’ and ‘f’s’ like most Koreans do. They all pronounce ‘sofa’ as ‘sopa’ and find it hard to pronounce the ‘v’ in ‘video’. It also makes me laugh when they say ‘fish’ as they pronounce it ‘pish.’ You can imagine how the pronounce ‘vacuum?’ In one class a boy of about 8 said ‘vacuum’ but pronounced it ‘fak-uum,’ but to make it funnier he held up his middle finger. Obviously he had learnt it from American movies.
Most of the Korean kids all have western names which is confusing as when you talk to a Korean teacher about pupils, and you use the pupils western names, they have no idea about whom you are talking. Lots of the names are outdated and some examples include: Mabel, Ted, and Cindy. However, some are very bizarre and these include: Sonic, Carrot, Purple and Sky.
On Friday, evening Mr Jo organised a party for the teachers of which there are about forty across all subject areas. Nana and I were the only foreign teachers. I wasn’t particularly keen on going as I didn’t finish training until 10pm and knew I would be tired and aching. Nana and I met outside the school which is on the main road through the Song-so district and took one of the school buses to the nearby restaurant. All private schools have their own fleet of minibuses as do the taekwondo schools. Korean restaurants are all restricted in what they serve and special in one or two items. This restaurant served pork which you barbecued at your table. Like most restaurants it was a sit on the ground affair and from there the waiters delivered plates of sliced pork which you barbecued on the grill nearest to you. There were side dishes of dried shrimp, chillies, anchovy, mussels, garlic and the usual kimchies and leaves. My favourite leaf is called gaenip and is a wild sesame leaf unlike any leaf I have eaten in the west. Mr Jo paid for the whole meal and kept us supplied in soju. Jo got pissed very quickly and moved around talking to everybody. The school’s vice principal is Mr Lee who looks like a stereotypical image of a Chinese person with thick-set black rimmed glasses and goofy teeth. At work he is always very serious. He made some speeches and welcomed Nana and I to the school. Apparently, Nana has only recently arrived from a school in Andong. When people began to drift home, Mr Lee positioned himself at the front door and turned those leaving back into the restaurant.
Though soju is only 23%, I got fairly tipsy, enough to impress the Koreans. Mr Jo however, became so pissed Mr Lee and a teacher called Young-seop (영섭) had to help him up. I was hoping we were all now able to go home but Mr Jo ordered everyone to the nearest noraebang. However, the soju had taken effect.
A noraebang consist of a series of varying size rooms which you hire and all of which contain a large video screen in front of which is a large table surrounded by a sofas. Several folders sit on the table which contain an alphabetical list of songs and their number which you then fed into the remote control. Also on the table are a number of microphones and some percussion instruments such as tambourines or castanets. Everyone was shouting for Nana to sing but the first song was sung by Mr Lee. Mr Lee suddenly transformed and if you’d seen him you would have thought him a professional singer. Next Nana and I sang ‘My Way’ which I actually enjoyed doing. Everyone took turns to sing and joined in the choruses. I have since discovered there is a noraebang just a few doors away from my flat (and is still there 16 years later – which in Korea is amazing)
Nana was away again at the weekend as he goes to teach in Andong. Feeling like a bit of lard, I visited KFC, which Koreans pronounce ‘k-peep-shee.’ Here I met a man who wanted English lessons and said he would take me sightseeing to temples in return. Then a boy of about 11 came and talked to me and introduced me to his little brother. Later, yet another stranger came up and asked if I would read stories in his kindergarten and I said I would ring him on Monday (this is interesting because in the last five years I’ve only been asked if I would teach privates on 2 occasions). I spent Sunday in the school writing my e-mails.
Sunday lunchtime Young-seop (영섭), one of the younger teachers, bought me lunch which was bibimbap (비빔밥), this consists of rice and vegetables in a bowl served with red pepper paste. This meal appears in a hot and cold version.
On Tuesday I didn’t have to teach until the afternoon so I accompanied Nana on a visit to Andong. Since I’ve been here all I have really seen is the area immediately around where I live and I still haven’t discovered all this area has to offer. However, Andong would be an interesting excursion. We left at 9 am and took the taxi to one of the city bus terminals – this was a twenty-minute journey which cost a couple of pounds. The buses are very punctual and ours left at exactly 9.30 am and I had more leg room on it than I am accustomed to on any British bus. Within ten minutes I had my first glimpse of Korea beyond city life. The road, a highway didn’t meander through any mountains but simply passed straight through them by a continual series of tunnels. In between the tunnels, in small valleys, were farms and rice fields. The mountains aren’t huge but they are bigger than hills and grander than anything I’ve seen in England. Nana talked incessantly which irritated me as I wanted to look at passing scenery. The forests are loosing their leaves and the view was very colourful.
Andong is a fairly big town but is much smaller than Daegu. There were a couple of beggars around the bus terminal and these were to be almost the only beggars I was ever to see in Korea. This was certainly less beggars than you were likely to see in Colchester at this time. Nana has taught in Andong for three years and was most likely the only black man the town has ever seen and so lots of people knew him. We visited the principal of a language school and then had lunch with a couple of Nana’s friends. There is a village on the edge of Andong where the Queen visited to watched masked dancing for which Andong is world-famous.
I missed taekwondo on Monday as my leg was sore but I made myself go on Tuesday. On the Wednesday the class did a Korean form of tai-chi during which floaty Korean pipe music was played. I missed the energetic training but it gave my muscles time to relax. The Thursday class was back to normal with plenty of press-up, sit-ups and leg techniques. Half of this class consisted of sparring during which everyone sat in an enormous circle while two people fought in the middle of it. I thought they were going to leave me out but then Mr Lee asked if I wanted to spar one of the green belts – a broad lad of about 20. I got up and quite impressed myself. Trundling up and down the gym kicking at a break neck speed I look like a lard arse but the moment I was confronted with an opponent all my old skills seemed to drift back. I was all over him and really only toyed with him. I used only basic kicks and didn’t use my hands. I have noticed that while most Korean students look pretty doing their kicks, moving fast and with agility, and even though many can do the splits, they are fairly crap at making a technique connect. And of course, many of them lack power. Even though I’d only been back in training for a little less than a month. I was able to place gentle kicks on his chest, kidney and stomach. Of course, he was only a green belt and I have many years experience, which is something I sometimes forget. No doubt I would have found it harder fighting a senior belt. Nonetheless, I felt good about myself and suddenly, when we had finished, I sensed a changed attitude towards me. I felt I would no longer be viewed as a spaker foreigner wanting to learn a bit of their art.
There is the third dan black belt lad of about 15. He is always very serious and so far he is the only person in the school who has failed to bow at me when I enter the dojang – I should add they are not bowing because I am a martial artist but because I am an adult. In the class, I don’t stand alongside other beginners but at the back of the class alongside senior belts. This is partly because I am foreign, a teacher and partly because I am probably the eldest in the class – apart from Master Bae, the ‘Captain.’ To put me anywhere else except with the black belts would probably be an insult. Anyway, this boy ignores me. After my fight with the green belt we were called to the front of the class and presented a stick on gold star each – I think our fight had been the most entertaining of the evening. When I was about to leave the class, after changing, the 3rd degree black belt boy came up to me, pulled himself to attention and proceeded to bow deeply.
On Friday I gave Mr Park, whose first name is Dong-soo, an English lesson. Tonight I am meeting a New Zealander called Roger, whom I met on the street where we talked for a while. Though there are few foreigners here, most talk to you.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
Alien Registration Card – Wednesday 8th November (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
Today, Mr Jo, my boss, took me to the other side of Daegu to get my alien registration card. The journey took us half an hour and I realised that the city meanders through several large valleys and is much larger than I thought. He has just spent the weekend in Jeju-do, a rather beautiful holiday island of the southern most tip of Korea. At the registration office I had to have all of my finger prints taken as well as ink prints of my hands. I arrived back at school late but somebody else had started my classes.
In class, one of the boys kept writing on his desk and I asked him to stop on several occasions. When I went to take the pencil out of his hand he tightly hung on to it so I simply stabbed his hand with the point of a pencil I was holding in my other hand. He shrieked and let his pencil go. ‘Don’t fuck with me,’ I said in English. The Korean teachers often ask me what I do with bad behaviour in an English school. When I tell them there is almost nothing you can do, they are astounded.
Grade six kids had a party in the Lotteria restaurant which is next door to my school but on the ground floor. I should add that Lotteria is a sort of Korean McDonald’s which is very popular. I didn’t know any of the children so I sat at a table of Korean teachers who one by one moved to another table. I have subsequently discovered this is because they are embarrassed by not being proficient at spoken English. Even the teachers who do speak English avoid you. One of them did ask me if I wanted some food and even though I said I didn’t, she nevertheless went and bought me some. When she brought me the food on a tray, she placed it in front of me and went and sat on the table with her colleagues. I then decided to go and sit with the Korean kids but they to moved away from me. Still I persevered and moved onto an adjoining table but they to quickly moved away. Eventually, a couple of brave girls tried to speak to me in English but giggled and ran away before I could respond. I don’t think any of them had ever spoken to a westerner. In the end they began to crowd around me, a few stroked my arms as they are fascinated with hairy arms and one girl sat holding my hand as she talked to her friend about how big it was. Others poked me in the back like I was some simian zoo exhibit. In my paranoia, I felt they were poking me to see if I had pillow padding underneath my shirt. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience.
Winter has suddenly arrived and today there is a distinct chill in the air. Mr Jo told me there is a party for Nana and I on Friday and that we will be going for a meal and then to a noraebang – this is Korean karaoke. I had read all about the Korean obsession with noraebang in travel guide books before I left the UK (because there was nothing on the internet in 2000) and they all advised one to learn a song that can be sung from memory. I have actually been dreading it as I hate such forms of entertainment.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
My Dobok Arrives – Tuesday 7th November (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
My taekwondo suit (dobok) arrived today. When I arrived at the dojang some excited boys were shouting, ‘dobok! dobok’ and holding their arms wide. Obviously the suit had been put on display for the amusement of the kids but I’m not bothered as I’ve become a little hardened to being the center of attention. Mr Bae let me change into it in his office but a huddle of boys stood watching me through the Perspex windows which looks onto the training hall. Politely, the boys held up their bags to stop any girls seeing me. The suit fitted fine and when I left the office half the school surrounded me to pull the material and help me put on the belt.
I actually hate the period just before I have to leave to go to the dojang as everything aches, my stomach, knees, thighs, even my buttocks. I’d much rather go home and relax but I have adopted this state of mind where I am resigned to accepting the pain of training. I totally commit myself to the will of the instructors. As there are no beginners’ classes and I am the only white belt, I ended up training with everyone else: Spinning kick, flying kick or jumping kicks, I attempted them all. We even had to do a running jumping kick during which we thrust out both legs parallel to the floor and touched our toes. I must have looked a sight as twenty odd stone doesn’t do such a technique with any finesse but as I said, I am beyond embarrassment.
Nana had a woman friend call around the house one evening. Her name is Po-yeoung and she is very nice company. She brought some dried squid with her which we toasted on the cooker, cut into strips and chewed with beer. It is rather like fishy jerky.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
Bought a Piano – Monday November 6th, 2000 (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
I bought a piano yesterday. It is a second-hand one and only cost a couple of hundred pounds which in reflection is probably a bit excessive. I had to do the whole deal in the little Korean I’ve learnt. I had to draw a map and the nearest landmark to my house that I know is MacDonald’s. The shop owner didn’t understand this until I’d written in Korean which quite pleased me. Then I found a video rental shop (Video bang) where videos cost an amazing thirty pence a week. The video shops, which are prolific also sell Korean manga and heterosexual soft porn.
The piano was delivered this morning and though it is fairly well in tune some of the notes have a crap mechanism. Still, I only intend to play it in order to keep my fingers in trim rather than intending to advance my ability.
I’m still aching from training and am surprised I haven’t pulled a muscle. I’ve been waiting for one to rip for a few days now and this is likely to happen as I do something inane such as turning on a tap or writing a letter. I quite fancy a sauna to relax my aches. I’ve heard there are saunas or bathhouses (the first mention of them) in town but apparently they are dubious and I don’t want to get into any embarrassing situations. I settled for a hot shower at home but I miss a bath to relax in.
Initially I was a little reluctant to play the piano as Nana was in his room and I’m shy. It was great playing again but my fingers are lazy and some of the notes are quite stiff and hard to sound. Of course, I should have played the instrument in the shop but instead just plonked out a few scales.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
Taekwondo School – November 4th 2000 (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
I’m aching this morning as I have joined a Taekwondo school run by a 7th dan, Master Bae. The school is affiliated to the American Martial Arts Association and it is exactly 190 paces from my school. The school, along with most other Korean enterprises seems to be permanently open but my classes run specifically from 8-9pm. The school is large and there are two halls, an office, mats on the floor and various other luxuries not found in Britain. When I began filling out the forms the office was full of grinning Korean boys (and few girls) who found my height and my size 15 trainers amusing. It seems that only youngsters do martial arts here and I am told that adults prefer bowling or golf. I think I am getting private lessons from the instructors. I was measured up for a suit and it should arrive on the 7th. From my extensive training in martial arts in the west, one is taught to constantly bow to instructors and to the training hall but this seems quite the opposite here in Korea. No one bows on entering or leaving the dojang and during the training there is a lot of chit-chat and laughing between the instructor and students and even the ‘Captain,’ as they refer to Mr Bae, gets little deferential treatment. When I took taekwon-do gradings in the UK, under Master Rhee, who was an 8th dan, he was treated like a god and no student was allowed to approach him uninvited. It is a surprise here, to see lazy students who stop exercising if they get tired or can’t keep up but I have since been told that this lax approach is necessary to keep youngsters in the class as martial arts schools are on every street corner. However, even in my school, Hae-song school, I have witnessed some almost brutal discipline. In one session a boy who was messing around was put in a headlock until he passed out. He was just left on the side of the mat to recuperate. One of the instructors often walks around the class with a small sort of hammer which he bashes on the soles of the feet of the youngsters to encourage them to stretch properly. Despite my criticisms most of the children with belts above green seem proficient. Martial arts are very popular here and it is quite common to see youngsters, usually boys, practicing techniques in the street. Yesterday I saw several boys walking through the town in kumdo (the Korean equivalent of Kendo) uniforms. Both carried wooden bamboo swords at their sides. Even the owner of a local restaurant I have been going to has a second degree black-belt. At the end of my last training session, we were all given a letter which I have since had translated; it referred to the equality of women in the training hall.
2001: Two kumdo boys in summer dress. One carries a bamboo ‘shinai’ (don’t know the Korean term for this)
My flat is only a five-minute walk from the Shane School of English where I am teaching and Nana, my flatmate is very friendly. The flat is well equipped, spacious enough and clean. During the week I moved my bed out of the room and bought Korean bedding as I intend to have a total Korean experience. Nana and I went out for a meal last week. It consisted of barbecued sliced pork which is eaten with a variety of leaves and condiments. Some of the food is quite strange and has textures and tastes which I haven’t experienced before. We got slightly drink on a drink known as soju (소주). After eating we wandered around the town for an hour or so.
The teaching is okay but some of the kids are unruly. Most of the ones I teach are aged 6-13 and one luxury is that you can hit them and physically manhandle them. I have one particularly horrid class, Kindy B and one boy, Peter, was messing around a lot. He did the same last week and when I tried to keep him behind he ran away. Because I can’t speak Korean they take advantage. He did the same this week and when I went to get him he ran around the classroom laughing. Anyway, I pushed all the desks out of the way that were between us and grabbed him by the neck. Then I frog marched him to my desk and kept him stood there until he had stopped crying. Some of the Korean teachers make the boys stand and do ‘pokey drill’ (a British army term for punishment or training where you hold you weapon in painful positions until your arms ache), when they are naughty.
I’ve stopped cooking at home as it is doesn’t cost much more to eat out. On working days I have a big rush to get from my last lesson, which finished as 6.40 and then get home, grab a quick bite to eat and go to the TKD school for eight. I trained every evening this week and yesterday had my first full session in the class. I’ve had individual lessons from both the master and one of the other instructors who can speak some English.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
Where am I Going? Friday 20th October 2000 (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
My flight to Seoul wasn’t too bad, it took around 12 hours and I flew across to the Baltic Sea, then across Russia, over Mongolia where we banked to the south and flew across China towards Beijing. Descending, we flew over the Yellow Sea and down into the sprawling metropolis of Seoul. I was very lucky to get a seat by the emergency exit and though I could stretch out my legs, I could hardly move in my seat as the arm rests were so narrow. The flight arrived at 1650 on the Thursday afternoon. After wandering around the arrivals for ages, I eventually bumped into Mr Young Won Lee and a Korean woman called Christine. Mr Lee introduced himself and using his mobile phone telephoned a driver who is to take Christine ( a Korean Letterland Teacher) and I to a hotel, somewhere in Seoul. The weather was very mild and not much different to the autumn temperatures I’d left behind in the UK.
On the Friday, suffering from jetlag, I ate breakfast which consisted of rice and fish and then had to carry my heavy baggage some distance to the Letterland school. Even though it was early in the morning, perhaps 8.00am, the humidity was uncomfortable and I could feel sweat trickling down my spine. The pavements were uneven and curled up and down small hills and all around me the city was busily gearing up for a days work. Once we arrived at the school, I spent the entire day being ferried by car to four English language schools that the Letterland people were trying to coax to work with their system. I think I was used as a native English speaker to make their credentials look good. On several occasions, while sat in front of school bosses, I nodded asleep. In one school I had to read to a class of 6 or 7 year olds and was asked to pronounce certain words to them. I could hardly keep my eyes open. It was all very confusing as no one had welcomed me or told me what I was supposed to be doing and no one seemed competent or willing to answer my questions. I had been told back in the UK, I was to teach in Ilsan but could find little or no information about where this was but was most disconcerting was none of the Koreans seemed sure was I was going. As the proverbial mushroom, kept in the dark and fed on shit, I was ferried between one school and another with no idea of the purpose of visits. Finally, at almost seven in the evening, exhausted, I was taken to Kimpo International Airport. Christine, who spoke very little English and yet was, at least I assumed, an English language teacher, was unable to answer my questions and I only knew I was arriving at an airport by seeing airport traffic. Suddenly, her mobile phone rang and after a brief conversation I was told I am to fly to Daegu where I will find my school. At first I thought this was in another part of Seoul; I’d never heard of Daegu and was totally bewildered considering I thought I was to be teaching in Ilsan. It is only when I am being pushed into the departure lounge, Chrstine stood waving goodbye, that I realise my 35 minute flight is to take me way beyond Seoul.
Daegu from the top of E-Mart. November 2000
Daegu is the third largest city in South Korea and lies in the central southern part of the peninsula, above Pusan and Masan. That much I gleaned from the in-flight magazine. It was already dark as we flew into Daegu and the small town I had envisaged was a sprawling city. At Daegu I was met by a young Korean man called Tony who drove me to the Shane English School where I met my new boss, Mr Jo. I looked around the school and then went for dinner with him to a bulgogi restaurant. Luckily, we didn’t sit on the floor as I had done for the last two meals. Afterwards, Tony drove me the short distance to my house which I am sharing with a man called Nana who though from Canada, is Ghanese. Nana was away for the weekend and so I had time to get used to the apartment and to familiarise myself with this part of the town.
Today (October 23) is my first attempt at writing my diary. On the way to work today I called in at a Taekwon do school which I might join. I think it’s a World Taekwondo (WTF) Federation school rather than an International Taekwon-do (ITF) Federation school but this is okay as I would quite like to learn this system. I hope they will be able to get me a dobok (suit) suit though they will probably have to have it made specially.
I spent this first morning of my new life in Korea, a Saturday morning wandering around the area known as Song-So, and totally in awe I was. Though I’m sure poverty exists here, as it does everywhere, so far I haven’t witnessed any and there are no horrid smells at all. The toilets are very clean as are the roads and pavements and apart from some crappy sidewalks and the odd bit of construction work, it is very comparable with the UK. In fact my flat is of a better quality than my house in the UK. My immediate area is primarily high rise buildings all with enormous neon hordings or banners emblazoned with bold Korean characters. I very quickly got lost and later discovered I had been walking around a one large block of buildings. It was very difficult to get my bearings.
My apartment consists of two fairly large bedrooms, a kitchen come dining room a washroom and utility room and a balcony. The balcony runs all the way around the apartment, there is also a small hall. It is a very clean place though it lacks any windows in my bedroom which look onto the outside world. The flat is only five minutes walk from my school and is close to a KFC and MacDonald’s.
My boots have been smelly and I’m pleased I put some odour eaters in them before I left the UK. I’ve eaten very well and so far all my meals have been paid for by one person or another. The only inconvenience has to sit cross-legged on the floor. The food is excellent and consists of all sorts of condiments and pickles such as kimchi – a sort of pickled cabbage leaf. Koreans eat garlic raw and dip it into a sort of chilli sauce and everyone’s breath stinks so I don’t feel out of place.
©努江虎 – 노강호 2012 Creative Commons Licence.
Korea Arrives – Friday 16th October 2000 (Korean Accounts 2000-2001)
The summer of 2000 – shortly before leaving for Korea
This is an edited version of my Korean Accounts of 2000-2001. The original diary, as diaries usually are, was quite intimate and personal and I have removed such material. I don’t like too much exposure! There are few photos and my writing is in a different style and tone but it highlights a Korea though only a decade away, considerably different to the Korea of 2012. Perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of any diary or blog pre 2005 (or thereabouts) was the fact you were internetless and there was nothing on Korea on the internet anyway – it took me years to find a recipe for Kimchi and makgeolli and the multitude of blogs relating to Korea which give you information on every aspect of Korean life, were still waiting to be born. In the sense, My Korean Accounts often exposes my naivety and ignorance as it was so difficult, if not impossible, to corroborate and research information. Coming to terms with Korea in 2000 was a physical rather than cyber experience. How do you come to terms with Korean culture without the internet and the multitude of tools it provides us. Today, every blogger loves to insert Korean script into their texts but in 2000 a UK computer couldn’t even write in Hangeul without a special program and there were no translation utilities or online language programs. As for Hanja? Nothing! That’s pretty much still the case but it’s improving. Most westerners I knew, even ones who’d been here a long time, couldn’t even read Korean. How quickly the world has changed!
Korean Accounts Part 1. 2000-2001
So much has happened since I last wrote my diary. I applied for a job in South Korea and within days I’d been sent a contract. I saw the advert in the Times Educational and responded to it but I had no reply from the recruiters. Several weeks later I was tidying my bedroom and was about to throw out the advert clipping when I decided to phone them. Suddenly it was full steam ahead. I was running up to London and booking appointments at solicitors to get my certificates notarised and to make a will. Now, ten days later and I’m sitting here in my room after having spent all my savings getting the house ready for my departure, which is on Wednesday. My room is empty and a woman called Donna is moving into it. I’ve done over a hundred jobs around the house and over seventy-five jobs to do with bureaucracy.
Suddenly, I’m about to leave. There are new people in my life that I’ve yet to meet, Yangjin, the recruiter, Kim and Liam from Korea, Mr Young Won Lee, my new boss and Mr Kim the travel agent. I have become familiar with the Korean alphabet from a teach-yourself book I bought, and have a whole new wardrobe of clothes. However, tonight I am sad because I don’t know if I really want to leave the security of Wivenhoe but this is an opportunity I can’t turn down. I feel compelled to go. Looking back over my diary, it seems that my desire to travel was somehow linked to other problems but maybe that’s just coincidence as I would have jumped at the chance in any state of mind.
So much has happened in less than two weeks: Luis’s mum has been and gone, Lea is house-sitting and summer has suddenly been blown away and a cold, wet autumn has set in. I’m going to miss my sister and the cosy evenings with Lea and the generosity of Luis. As for my closest friends, there is a strong bond between us and though we don’t always share a lot together we are intensely comfortable and familiar with each other.
I don’t want to leave but I’m on the verge of an adventure that will provide a unique experience and I’m going to take as much from it as I can.
Elwood 5566 
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