Mountains Apart

 

Before Vacation

No one at school has been staring at me—in that compassionate way people do when they don’t want you to leave. No—no one has been staring any longer than they usually do. People have been asking me where I’m going. Two or three teachers said they would cry, jokingly, and the same if not others looked shocked when I told them I’d be teaching at a high school come late August. All of that is okay.

 I had to learn cultural impressions when I arrived in Korea, adapt to personalities worlds apart from my own, and witness myself creating my own space in which to belong. Those personalities I touched and left in January to pursue their future endeavors. The teachers I work with now have worked hard beside me but we have not shared the same amount of rapport (and they know I’m leaving soon). No harm done.

It’s almost time to visit home. I feel disconnected. If you woke up one morning and didn’t feel your legs but yawned, ate, and got out of bed, that is how I could describe it. That’s a bit hyperbolic but truly I feel like half of me still in my shoes that I left in my home country. After a year of speaking elementary verbiage, relating with other expats for a sense of commonality, and finding customs and Korean cultural habits sometimes frustrating and nit.jpgcky, visiting The States will be reviving.

I will visit home toward the middle of August.

School

 Things here are really starting to wind down. No more go, go, go to beat a deadline. Deadlines have already passed or are quickly approaching. I submitted my last lessons plans for the semester two Fridays ago. My summer camp lesson plans were just approved, and last up is the county camps which I will participate in the day before I come home.

 

One of my students in the sixth grade looked at me and said: “I’m going to write you a note.” I had been asking how the class was feeling when I happened to stop by her desk. That’s when she said this. Her tone was so forceful; I wish she had that much enthusiasm every class. The note wasn’t an easy read. Her vocabulary is tantamount to her grade level but her grammar is still a work in progress. Anyways, it was a very nice note (another student explained it to me with better English). I later showed the note to her homeroom teacher.

 

 

Excursions

This road was deserted. A farm or a mountain or both rose beneath the sun as the car came upon them. In the countryside this scenery is commonplace, but this area seemed absolutely bucolic.

In the backseat of the car my coworker and one of my co-teachers were speaking in Korean. The driver was a man in charge of the teacher’s monthly dinners, get-togethers.

I was unable to eat meat after contracting bacteria three weeks before (probably from milk that was going bad). I had gone to the hospital twice (once in Yeongyang, once in Andong), and had kept my English director in the loop the entire time.

We were headed to a restaurant. I thought of a restaurant on the outskirts of town where I had tried my favorite Korean meat—duck—but we were headed somewhere else. We stopped on the way to dinner near a mountain and hiked it, although I wasn’t made aware until we hiked back down—that we weren’t hiking to dinner.

This lake was beside the mountain we hiked before dinner

 

In some places in the countryside there are restaurants in the mountains or behind farms. “No, the teachers wanted to have exercise before dinner,” my co-teacher said. We were on our way finally to eat goat meat. I sighed in irritation.

I was not supposed to eat meat. As I mentioned, for the last three weeks I had been having bowel issues (diarrhea) after contracting some kind of bacteria (probably from milk that was going bad). The doctor in Yeongyang said I would need my blood tested, and people at my school said I was going through heat exhaustion. During the third week when I went to the doctor in Andong was made aware (with the help of a translator) that I had eaten something that spoiled.

My stomach was not able to break down food properly and I could only eat eggs, oatmeal, and fruit for a week.

I had been made aware that we would eat goat for dinner the day before. I said I would eat the side dishes and the English director smiled and nodded. After this I assumed she would ask if the restaurant had other meals like soup, or if we could change the dinner to the following week (after I finished my week-long diet). Specifics are supposed to be presented to the person directly above you, by hierarchy in Korea. I report to the English director before the Vice principal, which is why I left it up to her. If I were to do this over again, I would go directly to the administration with my co-teacher by my side and ask them to change the date or restaurant myself.

the road became thinner on the mountain we hiked

 

When we got to the restaurant, after a few minutes of standing around, the duck was thrown onto the grill. Each group of teachers had a grill with stumps for seats. We all sat down as the meat cooked. I looked at the English director, who ignored what I had told her about my stomach and let my problems burn right in front of me as everyone chatted, as the meat cooked. She made no eye contact.

Then the goat finished cooking. It looked delicious, everyone started eating. No one looked at me until the teacher sitting beside me asked me why I wasn’t eating. “Oh,” the English director said from the other side of the grill, “Evan, stomach problem.” I looked up. The best way to displace irritation or anger is either by smiling or looking up. I have been faced with challenges before here and the mental reward of overcoming them has brought peace. I would not allow this dinner or a person’s incompetence to spoil my moment in Korea. 

But I couldn’t get up all worked up and just walk home. My apartment was mountains away. Grill aroma from the meat grew more intense by the minute.  I watched small pieces of meat turn black on the grill. Why would the English director not say anything to the school about my condition? I don’t know and I can’t change that.  

Around me, no one spoke for a while. Silence felt like group embarrassment. Two of my coworkers asked what was wrong with my stomach as the rest ate and laughed in their circles. Later I gulped down goat meat broth and rice. I was starving but it was better than nothing.

Sometimes when you take out the trash you'll find a Mom and her kitten

 

Yours truly,

               Evan