Flash-forward to November 21, 2005. I am sitting in Boston in a small room that has been sequestered to me through the graces of the same amazing people mentioned above. I am searching for employment and attempting to establish myself once again. I suppose that this might sound like I’m complaining to those of you who don’t know me too well. Those of you who do will most likely notice the pattern and chuckle a “Figures…” at this point. What I want you to know is that I truly appreciate all of you who have commented and let me know that you are reading my blog and care about what I’m doing, even if it was just for amusement.

I have done a lot in the past few months and will continue in that manner I’m sure. I hope that you will all carry me in your thoughts and emails (because we all know that I’ve forgotten how to send physical correspondence, right?) as you will be in mine.

I wish you all the best in your own adventures and hope that you are able to track me down one way or another so that we can all have a laugh reminiscing about The Nuprin Diaries.

My replacement comes in on Wednesday night. He’s from Chicago and has a beard. The kids are going to have one hell of a time trying to tell us apart. I have an added bonus in this regard, as does he. I will be able to pass the reigns effectively, knowing that my students will not be thrown into a new teacher’s style without a frame of reference. This might sound contradictory to some other posts where I have vented about my students and their behavior. But I must say there are a handful of my students that are truly trying to learn English and subsequently have a warm place in my heart. Knowing that these students will be in good hands eases my guilt of leaving them.

I also have the fun of tracking down my diploma, closing financial accounts, and telling my students that I will be leaving on Halloween Day. This next weekend is a culmination of a few events: my last weekend, Halloween parties, and a good friend of mine’s birthday. I will be a busy man. Plus I get to carry out all this with my replacement in tow, showing him the ropes of Korea. Perhaps this is the best teaching experience I will get from my time here.

Nonetheless, I imagine that this will be the last entry that I post from Korea. I have my work cut out for me when I return as well, so for those of you that have been avid readers I have to say, “Thank you.” I truly appreciate your comments and support throughout my adventures here. I will do my best to keep this blog alive once I get back on my feet on United States soil.

1. To finish your contract
2. To run
3. To give proper notice

Here is a fourth way as reported by The Globe and Mail, a Canadian news source:
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Korea Crackdown

By COLIN FREEZE

Monday, October 10, 2005 Posted at 4:52 AM EDT

From Monday's Globe and Mail

Nearly 50 English teachers from Canada have been detained, deported or investigated on allegations of visa fraud in South Korea, a country seeking to purge itself of young Westerners increasingly regarded as unqualified, unruly and unwelcome.

Long a magnet for foreigners drawn to working overseas, Korea has arrested hundreds of them in the past couple of weeks. Immigration officials have been rounding up dozens of teachers at their homes, work, or at the airports.

While as many as 10,000 foreigners legally teach the language at private English schools in Korea, the nation's media have been full of exposés about teachers with dubious credentials.

Many of the foreign teachers, if not most, are Canadian.

Many teachers say Korean officials and unscrupulous recruiters have long tolerated, even encouraged, the illegal activity.

Some Canadian teachers are worried that they, too, could end up in prison.

"I wish we could tell exactly how much trouble we are in," a 30-year-old Canadian teacher said in a phone interview from Kwangju, Korea, on Friday. "The idea of me being locked up and handcuffed and fed grog is ridiculous. They say what we're doing is criminal, but it doesn't feel that way."

The woman, who is from B.C., said she arrived on a spousal visa, but was enticed into teaching English illegally to supplement her husband's income.

Her husband, a legal instructor, said Korea's response is out of proportion to the situation. "We are all teaching children how to sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat, and ABC," hesaid, adding that he believes more than 150 Canadians doing this type of work have been arrested.

The couple -- who, like several other Canadians interviewed, asked not to be identified -- say they are contemplating a "midnight run" out of Korea, and complain that the local embassy has not done enough for jailed friends.

"The whole situation is totally inhumane -- I've heard of 70 [foreign teachers] being put in a room with capacity for only 30 or 40," the wife said. "It's not like they were dealing drugs or running guns."

Canada's Foreign Affairs Department says there are limitations to what it can do. It has officially logged about 50 English-teacher cases in the past two weeks: 35 have been deported, five are awaiting deportation and the rest under investigation.

"It's clear that the South Koreans are enforcing their laws in a recent wave that began as little as two weeks ago," the Foreign Affairs parliamentary secretary, Dan McTeague, said from Ottawa.

The Liberal MP warned Canadians in Korea to "make sure their credentials conform to the rigours of the law. If they don't, they are strongly advised to rethink continuing in that setting."

Many of the arrests of foreigners have followed that of a Korean man who is accused of selling fake diplomas. Many Canadians who tried to establish teaching credentials by buying fake university degrees are worried that their names have been handed over to the authorities.

One Canadian, who has taught legally in Korea for nine years and helps run an Internet message board for expatriates, is telling affected colleagues that the wisest course of action is to surrender.

"There are some people that freak out and say, 'I better get out of Dodge' -- and then they get nailed at the airport," he said.

Given that Korean authorities are believed to have an inch-thick dossier on illegal English teachers, he urged his compatriots to go a different route. "If you turn yourself in, immigration tends to take a more lenient thinking."

Like many Canadians interviewed, he said that Koreans have an innate xenophobia that has hardened of late. "There has been a definite change in the way we're being perceived in the last nine or 10 months," he said. "Before, it was, 'Please speak me English.' Now, it's 'Get out of my country, white devils.' "

Visa frauds go on in just about every country, but Korea's clampdown has been lent a sense of urgency by highly publicized accounts of immorality by young foreigners. Reports of marijuana and cocaine busts have long tended to feature Westerners -- including five Canadian teachers who were arrested two years ago.

But more recent events have led to a furor. An unknown English teacher in Korea used the Internet to post what amounted to a how-to guide for seducing Korean women. Then, two English teachers from Cape Breton, N.S., made the headlines for breaking a local man's jaw in a bar brawl. They spent 40 days in jail and were ordered to pay $30,000 (U.S.) in a form of restitution known locally as "blood money."

And lately, Korean TV has aired segments painting English teachers as inept, unqualified foreigners who frequently lie about their credentials.

"People basically think all foreign teachers are drunks and molesters who can't get a job back home," said the teacher who helps run the Internet board for expats.

___________________

Yes, I know some people who have been effected by this. I'm sure there are a few people that I'm friends with that will be mysteriously leaving. No, I don't know of anyone for sure who is here illegally.

Nevertheless, this should make for an interesting departure. I can imagine trying to leave solemnly and then end up in Korean jail for trying to leave early from my contract. This joins my other paranoia lately: that I will be quarantined upon arriving in Chicago because of the Avian Flu, having just returned from Asia.

The last week at work has been relatively smooth. I had a few weeks of uncomfortable silence from my co-workers after I broke the news I was leaving but I think that has all subsided now.

This weekend was Canadian Thanksgiving. I was invited to attend a proper dinner party where we gorged ourselves on turkey and mashed potatoes and other traditional dishes. Yes, its pretty much the same style feast as American Thanksgiving.

Random sand sculpture. It was very cool watching this guy work.

I know I shouldn’t play with my food, but he was too cute!

This is one of my students, Jesse. She reminds me of the penguin from Wallace and Grommit.

This is an example of cultural dimorphism. These kids cannot seem to get over the fact that I have arm hair. There are times I feel like a dog. Some kids can’t help themselves from trying to pull on my arm hair or my beard. Its very much like watching a baby feeling a plush carpet.

This is Cindy, one of the smartest students I have. But you wouldn’t guess it from her shirt… Konglish strikes again!

Note: when choosing school uniforms, please pass on the Star Trek theme.

Ba-Bo (what is scrawled on the whiteboard behind me): crazy, stupid, silly, dumb, etc… I haven’t received an official definition yet, but my kids insist its crazy. Who’s ba-bo now?

These are scars from immunizations the kids get when they are younger. Almost all my kids have this pattern on their left arm. I felt bad about taking this picture, though; I asked him to flex for me so I could get a good shot. (get it?)

Sorry this shot is so dark, I let my students take a few pictures, and they turned off the flash. Note the stick on the desk. That’s what the Korean teachers use for motivation.

This is a prime example of a squatter. This takes the place of a conventional toilet. The waste bin in the corner is where you put your used toilet paper. If I hadn’t been to Mexico, this would be disturbing to me.

Here’s an amusing shot of Dave, Heather, Tamsyn, and myself.

Two chingus in Ko-rea.

The first, and most common, way is to finish your contract and then get the hell out of Dodge. This usually is accompanied by a rude hand gesture and a thorough disdain for the country and its culture. The second is to tell your director that you are moving on (for whatever reason) within a month or more of your departure. A feeling of satisfaction and a hint of shame that slowly dissipates once you realize that you are leaving in a respectful manner usually accompany this method. The third is to pull “a runner.” An empty apartment and a pissed off Korean director is the only thing you leave in your wake.

This third way invokes a certain nostalgic smirk from me after working at Oakley. There is rarely a hint of warning before someone takes these actions unless they are thoroughly malicious about it. Case in point: I have met a few waygukins that claim they will leave after six months and never tell their director because, “What are they gonna do about it?”

I find this to be very disrespectful. I don't mean to sound high and mighty over my way of handling a short lived contract, but if you have to leave and you know it, why not get it out of the way? Of course I know the main reason for this is to not have to reimburse the hagwon the airfare for getting you here. But the residual effects of this action can be staggering.

If you were a director at a hagwon, and you spent a lot of money on an employee and then they just up and left you what would you do? It would take well over a month to get a fulltime replacement for that person during which time students may quit your school to study at another hagwon that has a waygukin. So you'd loose money, have to hire a part time waygukin (yes, they exist, though most of them not entirely legally), and then spend more money to get another waygukin out to Korea and possibly pay a hefty recruiter fee (usually the equivalent of a months salary of the recruitee).

Now think about the psychological damage that could occur. Would you trust another waygukin again? How is this going to affect the other hagwon directors? Will they trust their waygukins? Now other waygukins have to deal with a severe lack of trust in their hagwon because of some idiot who couldn't handle confrontation?

If you think I'm being overdramatic then you should know there's about one runner a month in this city alone.

That being said, I feel even more confident in my departure knowing that I am leaving on a high note with my hagwon and Korea in general.

On that note, here are some pictures I've been meaning to put up for you all:

This is a “security guard” outside Ulsan University. I apologize for the blurriness, but I was trying to be quick incase the flash woke him up… it didn't.

While walking through the University we encountered a group practicing a traditional dance. It was really cool to see the mix of tradition and Nike shoes at 2 am in the morning.

Ah, Carten Blausen… I was taught this game while in Germany and have now officially passed it on to Korea. The object is to blow only one card off at a time. Improvise on consequences…

After six months without playing the bass guitar, Dave Ayers emerges to sit in on a bands performance. This was one of the best things I've ever seen in my life.

Konglish shirts: its best to not ask why or what they mean. This is another American (we're rare here, no joke) Erin. Her shirt reads: “In a Quiet and Clam Atmosphere.”

Here is my contribution to the Konglish world: “Its Exciting! Jumping on the Air”
The small print says: “Comfort and Pleasure.” Still not sure why there's a picture of a car… My best guess is hydraulics, but I've yet to see that here.

What do you say?

So to cut to the chase, I will be leaving Korea in early November or late October in order to enroll in an Educational Masters TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) program that starts in January at Boston University. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but I assure you that this is the right decision for me at this point.

So to go into more detail, here are a few of the reasons I've decided this:

1. The one thing I had expectations for when I got to Korea was that I was going to be teaching for a solid year. That I would get invaluable experience here and see if I like it. Well, that isn't the case. I've been baby-sitting for the past three-plus months and have gained minimal experience. That being said, I've realized because of this outcome that I want to teach, and not just play with kids. This has been a very important step for me.

2. Having realized that I will be returning to grad school in order to pursue this next step it has become apparent that I would be staying around for money. In other words, I'd be sitting around, making money and not really enjoying myself. This does not jive with me at all.

3. The cultural aspects of this country have been great and I have enjoyed it, but it really isn't enough for me to stick around more than I need to. I have no ill will towards Korea, my school, other teachers, or gimchi.

4. I found a great program that has open enrollment and is exactly what I want to go into and for many different levels. It's (pardon the oxy-moron) a blanket specialization. I am very excited to start my re-education. Since its based out of Massachusetts (a state known for education) the accreditation has reciprocity with 42 other states in the Union, giving me ample opportunities for placement in the future. I will also have the chance to be surrounded by some very important people in my life, to boot.

So yes, dear readers, this means that The Nuprin Diaries will have a few more weeks of existence, and then I imagine (Mark willing, of course) it will change names but remain operational for your access into my life.

I hope that you can all understand and aren't disappointed. I assure you that this has been a huge weight off my shoulders and I cannot tell you the last time I have felt so sure about my life before. I thank you for your support throughout these upcoming months and encourage you to write me an email if you have any questions that perhaps I didn't answer here.

Cheers,

Ryan

_____________________________________________________________
Key:

WORD- (part of speech), Language [E for English, H for Hangul, K for Konglish]- definition: (which may or may not include a story or picture)
_____________________________________________________________

BENCHWARMERS- E, (n)- a sports bar that specializes in Waygukin cuisine and activities. It is owned by a Canadian expatriate and is the sight of Wednesday Open Mic Night.

BUL-GO-GI- (n), H- literally: fire meat. A tasty dish that has fire roasted beef.

CANADIANS- (n), E- the overwhelming majority of waygukins here. [See also- Nuck]

CHAIG- (n), H- a book: “Please open your chaigs to page 72.”

ENGLISH- (n), E- the language I'm supposed to be teaching. Don't worry, I'm laughing, too.

GIM-CHI- (n), H- fermented cabbage usually served with every dish in Korea. This is Korea's contribution to world cuisine.

GnB- (n), E- the name of the hag-won I work at. It stands for (can you guess?): Girls n Boys.

GONG-CHAIG- (n), H- a workbook: “Gong-chaig pyu-la!”

HAG-WON- (n), H- a school-like program that specializes in one thing usually attended by students after-school. These can range from a Tae-Kwon-Do to a Music Hag-won. I am a teacher at an English Hag-won. Korean children attend many different Hag-wons from the time they leave school until they return home for bed. While these children are getting an education, the parents get daycare. This relationship makes my job interesting.

HAN-GUK- (n), H- The Republic of Korea.

HAN-GUK-IN- (n), H- a Korean person.

HAN-GUL- (n), H- the Korean language. It was developed by a great king and is considered to be the most logical language in history. I'm not kidding. It actually is very easy to learn, you just have to get over your own language idioms.

KONGLISH- (n), K- the mix of Korean and English, much like Spanglish. This term is used when one attempts communication between the two languages and only has a few words of one and is fluent in the other. A few examples: An English speaker to a Hangul speaker, “Two-gae mak-ju, ju-sae-yo.” A Hangul speaker to an English speaker, “Dul-gae beers, please.”

MAK-JU- (n), H- Beer. Sweet, sweet beer.

MUL- (n), H- water.

MUL-GO-GI- (n), H- literally: water meat. Seafood, in other words: “The mul-go-gi made Ryan go into anaphylactic shock!”

NABI- (n), H- 1. a butterfly: “What a beautiful nabi!” 2. The name of the typhoon that hit Ulsan September 7th, 2005: “What a destructive Nabi!”

NUCK- (n), E- another term for a Canadian. It's their version of Yank. It doesn't bother either countryman and is somehow still a hell of a lot of fun to call the other.

PYU-LA- (v), H- to open (as in book): “Gong-chaig pyu-la!”

SO-JU- (n), H- a Korean alcohol that is (from what I understand) 90% chemicals. I'm not sure how they make it, but it tastes like a bad vodka and cause your night to become increasingly more dangerous with each shot. I recommend that you stay away from this devil-drink at all costs.

TOMBSTONE- (n), E- a western-themed waygukin bar. Four Canadian expatriates manage this bar.

WAY-GUK-IN- (n), H- a person not of Korean descent.

WAY-GUK- (n), H- any country that is not Korea.

WON- (n), H- the currency of Korea. It should be noted that the current exchange rate is roughly 1000 won to 1 US dollar. It should also be noted that the largest bill that exists in paper form is 10000. Imagine getting paid 2000 a month US (roughly 2 million won), all in ten-dollar bills. I must admit, when payday comes I feel like a pimp carrying my wads of money.

Other than almost being impaled by a rogue rouge umbrella it was uneventful. On the plus side, there's supposed to be another typhoon coming this way that's twice the size! It feels like I'm living back at Hellgate where we had avalanche threats daily.

Also, I have the first installment of my glossary up and running. Follow the link on the side bar to take a peek. I will be continually adding to it so check often if you're interested in that kind of thing.

I was therefore surprised when I saw not my Korean Landlady, but a blue shoulder that had a distinctive militaristic flap with two silver leaves embroidered on a thin black band. I looked up into the face of one of two Korean Police officers and tryied to figure out why they were giving me my utility bill.

“Excuse me, can you ask us some questions about your bike?” he said in broken English but with clear pronunciation.

I thought about this for a second, taking in the second officer who had three silver leaves on each of his shoulders. He was glowering at me as if I had just punched his dog in the face and wanted to exact his revenge by busting his knuckles on my chin. I had never met his dog; hence I was very confused by this whole scene.

“What?” I croaked.

“Please come with us.” He commanded as I was pulled from my door in my boxers with barely enough time to slide on my slippers. They led me down the stairs, past my landlady who was looking at me sincerely. I gazed back and tried to tell her through my sleep-bended eyes that I was shocked and didn't understand why SHE couldn't have just given me the power bill. We stepped outside and Officer English pointed to my scooter and asked me if it was mine, when I got it, and who I got it from. I answered each question still wondering if I had ever met Officer Knuckle Buster's dog as he glared at me and was actually starting to look more agitated.

“This bike is bad.” Officer English said.

I looked at him curiously and started to make out what was going on for the first time in my ninety seconds of consciousness. They believed that my bike was stolen! I quickly assured them that it was not, that I bought it from another waygukin that had left in July and that he had purchased his bike from a motorcycle shop that most of the waygukins here frequent. I had talked to many people who actually went with him to get the bike when he first arrived. There was no question in my mind that he had obtained it legally.

I gathered that Officer Knuckle Buster did not share this view as he suddenly erupted in Hangul and began shoving his face into mine in a most drill instructor-like way. Here was a higher-ranking officer making loud charges against a person who (as it was already clarified by now) could not speak Hangul and was standing in his underwear in the middle of the street. I smiled at the thought of the scene.

I should not have smiled.

Officer Knuckle Buster grunted loudly and was just about to do or say something I knew I would have no problem understanding when Officer English jumped between us and asked for my director's number, knowing that she could help translate. Now, with most directors of English Hagwons this would be true, but I was currently teaching my director English and we had not quite breached International Law yet. I requested that I be allowed back upstairs to my apartment where I could get my cell phone (and some pants as it was starting to get drafty).

I returned with the keys to the scooter and displayed that I had the correct keys as Officer English called up director. I apologized to Officer Knuckle Buster for not understanding his language as he continued to shower me with spittle from his angry mouth. I resisted a look of resentment but it did not seem to be enough. I was grabbed once again by the arm and led into the back of the police vehicle. Officer English hopped on my scooter and (in a most unnerving way) undid my lock with a tool in less time then it would have been to use the key. As Officer Knuckle Buster drove me to the police station I started calling my friends who may have known Charlie, the guy I bought the scooter from in the first place. Everyone confirmed my belief that he got the scooter from the Bike Shop as we pulled into the police station where I was led to the front office. They asked me if I had my passport and I half-scoffed (catching the sight of Officer Knuckle Buster in time to see him raise an angry eyebrow) and explained that it was in my apartment and that I barely had enough time to put on pants before I was taken away. Luckily I had my Alien Registration Card. On the card was my visa validation date that proved to be very useful in absolving any guilt I might have had in their eyes.

Apparently the bike had been stolen in April 2004. I had only been here for three months. I had the sudden desire to wave my hand across the air and say, “This is not the waygukin you are looking for,” in my best Obi-Wan voice. I resisted this desire only because it dawned on me that I had been driving stolen property for the past few months.

My director arrived at the police station and gave me an anxious look as she carried on a conversation with the police officers. I felt horrible as she waged a war for my innocence knowing that she had been torn away from her life simply because of my poor consumer choices. I thought everything was going well and that I would soon be able to leave the police station and go home, sans scooter. I was wrong. I was taken once again to the back of the cop car and we drove off. I caught my director's eyes as we left and a ball of shame appeared in my stomach. I looked down like so many of my students do when they cannot muster an answer to a question I'd asked them.

It wasn't until we arrived at the downtown police station that I was told that they knew I “had no guilt” and that we were here to file an official report. We walked into a room with the sign Violent Crimes Investigation Unit. The room was bustling with activity; people were screaming at officers, officers were screaming back and then all went quiet as suddenly they saw a bearded waygukin enter the room. I suppressed my smile this time wondering what they must have thought was happening with me.

Officer English and Officer Knuckle Buster bid me adieu and I was handed over to a new and even more comical civil servant. After about thirty seconds of speaking with him I had the distinct impression that he had learned English by watching bad detective movies.

“Once you tell us the TRUTH, you can leave!!” he bellowed at me as he leaned over the desk.
“You have rights, oh yes, but the RIGHTFUL owner of this property has rights, too!!!” he answered when I innocently asked, “When can we start?”

It was then that I saw my shining beacon of hope: my director entered with one my Korean teachers who spoke English! All fear of being misstated disappeared and I silently thanked God.

I began relaying my answers to questions about my involvement with said scooter through Michelle, my savior of bilingual ability. Only after a few loaded questions did things start to roll along and we made our full report. They printed out a copy of the report for me to sign and thumbprint multiple times. I asked if I could have a copy of it myself but was shot down. I was finally able to return home via my director.

--------------------------------------------

It is now Monday evening and I am typing this in darkness. I awoke once again to the chirping of my doorbell (this time at 2 am). Typhoon Nabi (butterfly in Hangul) is currently on its way in to town and my landlady thought it best to wake her tenants up to make sure all electrical appliances were unplugged in case of a surge. Personally, I was glad it wasn't the police again. I want to assure everyone that Nabi will be nowhere near the storm Katrina was, but I will be safe and keep you all up to date once it blows over. At least I don't have to worry about my scooter being swept away by the wind...

Yesterday, I went to _______. I saw ______. I ate ______ and drank ______. It was ______!

I would then go around the room and ask each one to fill in the blanks. Time after time they would copy one another or keep it relatively mundane. An example:

Yesterday, I went to the zoo. I saw monkeys. I ate pizza and drank water. It was fun!

I was therefore surprised when one student delivered:

Yesterday, I went to Hell. I saw the Devil. I ate people and drank blood. It was great!

I gave him a sticker for pure originality.

ps- Stickers are form of currency at the hagwon. For every 10 stickers they get one 'dollar' which is then traded in for candy or school supplies when we hold a Market Day (which happens about every two months).

I slyly walked over toward him (he was still talking to his friend and not paying attention to me) as I asked the students to repeat after me, “What's your favorite color?” As the chorus of muddled voices sang back at different intervals I slammed my book down on his desk. All the students stopped and stared, a look of dread and confusion came over their faces and I was left in a very awkward moment.

What had I done? I've used this method before to get their attention and they usually laughed and we continued our lesson. I've actually found that some students enjoy the attention and know what will be coming, so they carry on like a running gag that hasn't realized its outlived its humor. So why were my students mumbling to one another in hushed Hangul?

It was somewhere between the echo dying from the slam of my book and the first above-whisper comment that I heard it: a slow droning siren. I looked at my students who looked back at me, and then realized that this sound wasn't too unlike that of the tornado warning system back in Champaign-Urbana. The first Tuesday of every month a siren would sound off for about five to ten minutes to test that the system still worked. It also began its slow Doppler rotation whenever a tornado watch or warning would arise. Is that what this was about? A storm was a-brewin'?

I knew that Ulsan was prone to be hit by typhoons by this time and imagined that this might be the explanation. I ventured my guess to my students. They seemed to be more interested in my impromptu performance of what a typhoon would look like if a crazed westerner with a red beard could create such a storm than answering me. Yet another communication breakdown…

Finally one child understood what I meant by flailing my arms around and making whooshing noises and promptly informed me that this wasn't the reason. She then made the international sign for September the 11th. That is to say, while holding one hand up vertically and the other horizontally she recreated the events of 9/11 in slow motion by careening her horizontal hand into the vertical hand and making an explosion noise topped off the performance by making the vertical hand into a fist, consuming the horizontal hand.

Got that? Well, if you're an American traveling with few working words of the native tongue you see this often, usually followed by an awkward political discussion. It can be very difficult trying to explain your stance on the American Electoral College when you can barely buy laundry detergent or garbage bags at the corner store.

I paused for a moment trying to understand what 9/11 had to do with a tornado siren. I was at a loss. I opened a window and saw to my disbelief that pedestrians were filing into the nearest store, cars were stopping in the middle of the road while the drivers walked into the stairwell of a nearby building, and policemen were rounding up anyone who wasn't taking the same actions . I still had no idea what was going on but it was starting to become clearer once I heard the jet fighters scream overhead.

I watched as the two planes flew around the city in tight circles. Perhaps feeling the need to turn this distraction of class into a learning opportunity I informed the nearest student to me that they were F-16s. He looked at me in disbelief (whether it was out of him questioning my ability to name a jet or out of the fact that I was hanging out a window while the rest of the populace was obviously running for cover I wasn't sure- I went with the former). I then pointed to the fact that there was only one tail fin, unlike the two found on the F-18.

He continued to look at me in disbelief. I guess I picked the wrong motivation…

Then as a Chinook helicopter flew into sight on the other side of the apartment buildings across town, I figured it was time to close the window and see if I couldn't get down to the bottom of this. I turned from the windows and din to find my class no longer a ball of nervousness like it was when the siren first began wailing but quietly chatting like nothing was happening. I was confused at this point and decided to press the subject.

One of the Korean teachers walked by at that moment and I flagged her in. She explained that this was a warning system for terrorist threats and that everyone was supposed to clear the streets. I asked if they do this on a schedule so everyone knows that its just a drill, remembering fond moments of classroom disruptions back on that lovely first Tuesday of every month in college. I was surprised to learn that this was not the case for the terrorist drills.

“But how do you know if its not a drill, then?”

“If it wasn't a test then we would have heard it by now, so there's nothing to worry about!” she giggled as she started walking out of the class.

“But…” I stammered after her, knowing that less than a minute had passed since I first heard the alarm and there were still people haughtily making their way to cover.

I turned to my class as the door closed behind her and asked, "Am I the only one who read 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf?' "

Damn, another communication breakdown...

We began our journey with a few bumps but got out of town at a decent hour and headed southwest for Jinhae where the ferryboat awaited us to shuttle our faithful steeds to Goje Island. Since my motorcycling experience consisted of watching the shiny 'big boy bikes' on the highway I had the privilege of riding 'bitch,' as it were, the entire trip. I say privilege because this allowed me to take pictures and video while we were driving. I managed to get some great footage that I plan on piecing together once I figure out how to operate my editing program. The drive was uneventful but hot and sunny. We all sustained a fair amount of sun and fatigue but made it to the ferry terminal and headed across the bay to Goje.

Upon arriving it was clear that this island was far from what we were used to. Ulsan is a booming city filled with cars, pollution, apartment skylines, and noise. Goje was green, the roads empty, the sky clear, and only the sounds of insects in the surrounding forests. The air had a welcome coolness and the roads a welcome one-lane heaven for bikes. We found our first camping site with a relative amount of ease thanks to the help of one of the many amazingly helpful Koreans we had met along the journey that day alone. We felt like we were on vacation, not hanging out in the town we lived in- a very important distinction for all parties.

That first night was the highlight of the trip by far. We managed to find one of the few sand beaches (most beaches were pebble-not conducive for sleeping on) and promptly set up the tents and relaxed, worn from our day on the road. The town (barely more than a street with 20 structures) had a true community feeling. The shop owner was all smiles and information for his out-of-town guests. There was impromptu Karaoke outside on the wharf that was mostly traditional Korean songs denouncing the Japanese. It was fantastic to see such soul from the ajummas as they sang away with deep, throttled voices. After we pulled ourselves away to our campsite we beheld a shocking natural phenomenon.

We were just about to crash for the evening when we noticed that the waves that were settling into the shore were tinged neon blue. Instinctively I looked around trying to find the source of the reflection but was unable to find one. The moonlight was the only thing illuminating the cove. We went in for closer inspection and found ourselves being awe-struck by a horde of jellyfish that were slowly advancing on the beach with each wave. Wherever the water was disturbed a blue neon shock was emitted and slowly dissipated as if the blue light was being absorbed back into the lapping waves. The wet sand left behind from the retreating waves sent out a shockwave of blue wherever we stepped. Upon researching the circumstances once we got back we determined that it was not the jellyfish giving off the light but bio-phosphorescence caused by algae that occurred when conditions are just right. We happened upon textbook-perfect conditions for this event and bore witness to the best fireworks I've ever seen.

The next day we drove around the island and made our way to the Historic Goje POW Camp. The camp had been used during the Korean Conflict and housed over 173,000 North Korean POWs. The camp has an interesting history and story to tell, as there were over 3000-recorded deaths during its operation. Unfortunately, as we pulled up to the gates of the Camp it was clear that somewhere during the planning of this historic site someone got their signals crossed. Imagine that you were at Six Flags and there was an area called POW Land. It seriously felt like you could easily place Astroturf and a few holes in the ground for a Putt-Putt course. There was a serious lack of respect for the soldiers who were interned there. The signs were in broken English and told stories of how lovely it was to be a North Korean POW as compared to being a soldier for the ROK (the South Korean Army). All in all, it reeked of propaganda for South Korean pride and was slightly sickening. There were dioramas depicting the life of the POWs that were often comical looking and some amazingly disrespectful picture taking opportunities for tourists (and yes, we upheld this norm- we had to purely because if we didn't laugh, we would've cried). But I believe the true kicker was that at the actual memorial statue for the POWs there wasn't a soul there save four wayguks who needed a break from the spectacle that had rattled us so much. I figure that somewhere I missed the details that explained why they chose this motif as compared to every other war memorial I've ever been to, but I cannot imagine agreeing with those reasons.

In an effort to find another sand beach for the evening and to get as far away from the Historic Camp we hightailed it to the very southern most point of the island and randomly met up with another group of wayguks, one of which was a girl we knew from Ulsan. We had another enjoyable night, even sans nature's pyrotechnics.

On Monday we spent most of the day driving back to Ulsan at a slow pace. Despite a relaxed attitude about the days drive we made better time then we did on our way down. This was an amazing feat as it was Korean Independence Day. I later found out from my students that the role of the holiday is not to celebrate but to commemorate (thus explaining why no one was on the roads- they were honoring their forefathers, a great revelation to have after visiting the Goje POW Camp).

I had many hours to think about everything and nothing at all as we drove, but a few themes persistently returned to my head. I had developed a newfound respect for the culture from the ajummas singing on the beach. I was amazed by the natural beauty of the island and of the Korean mountains that I rarely have a chance to see in Ulsan. The strange parallels to western life and Korean life seemed to becoming more apparent to me. The culture-shock aspects still unnerve me, but that's a good thing. There are some things in every culture (even my own) that I do agree with. I have to come to terms with knowing that and reveling in what I take to be sacred, even if someone else doesn't.

Here are some pictures for you all. Be sure to click on them to get a full view.

This is one of the jellyfish that beached itself the night before. We nicknamed our first camping site "Jellyfish Cove" in their honor.

One of the great sunsets on Goje Island.

To enter the POW Camp you had to take an escalator through a tank. Still not sure why...

Here's one of the guard towers throughout the park (er... historic site). Most of them had mannequins with rifles staring down at you.

Another random military mannequin. This one dangled over the walkway. Once again, I'm at a loss.

This is one of the propaganda signs that showed what great benefits the POWs had. This is one of many. Others included POWs putting on plays, washing clothes, and taking Korean lessons.

One of the dioramas. I would think this was showing the hardships of POW life if they didn't seem so comical the way they're put together. Note the guy in the back, taking care of business. Everyone would laugh at the dioramas as they passed.

Here's a common site: people taking pictures with the mannequins and acting like they were POWs, too. But it gets better...

Here's me following suit of the other patrons and standing in front of a tank picture/action-statue. As you can tell, I'm a bit confused at this point.

Here's one of the most offensive things I've ever seen (and, I'm ashamed to say, participated in). This was one of the most popular attractions. I'm still amazed that it exists, but by the time you get to it you are no longer surprised. Rather, we had the attitude, "Of course." Whoever designed this park should issue a formal apology.

Here's a sunset shot Tamsyn took from the beach. The colors were amazing.

Here's a collage of 6 pictures I took on our bike tour on the southern end of the island. It was an amazing sight, as you can see.

I'm working on getting a glossary together that you can access at anytime as well as leaving my contact information to be readily available.

Thank you for your patience!

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My day started like any other here in Ulsan. I woke up later than I'd like to admit and was barely able to clean myself up and get out of my apartment so I could make the quick ten-minute walk to work. After having been in South Korea for over a month now I was used to the abrupt change from my now Americanized apartment to the streets of my neighborhood, Mugeo-dong. It usually came in the form of a squint, a sniff, and then a recalibration of my bearings. I was getting used to the stares of the Korean people who were not accustomed to my wayguk-presence strolling down the streets. I was getting used to the growing number of people who would stop and attempt communication with me in an effort to practice their English and/ or establish a new friendship between the cultures.

This interaction normally looks like the shy beginnings of a romance. The Korean in question will hesitantly approach me like they were offering a strange dog a treat, still unsure of its disposition. If I were to return with a smile, a nod, or any other recognition short of grunting they will either begin speaking in broken English or smile and nod back. This is usually the extent of the interaction as we are both going in opposite directions. These fleeting moments tend to build up over the course of a few days and then deteriorate to simple nods as we pass much like the first time you see an ex on a busy street, apprehensive of where your relationship stands at the current time.

These norms were thrown out the window on that mid-July day. I made my way around the corner now on autopilot to work. I gave the customary nods to my new “friends of the week” and continued on by myself. And then it happened:

“Hello!” someone shouted.

I turned… no one was there. I stopped dead in my tracks, afraid that I had perhaps passed one of my friends without noticing them. Not wanting to cause any discord in my neighborhood I stood in the middle of the street turning around slowly then more rapidly, searching for the friend I missed. No one was around. No one is in the doorways of buildings, the windows were empty, the streets bare.

I suddenly felt like I was being watched, not just stared at out of curiosity, but as if I were being observed. I wanted to find the source of this sudden English intrusion. There was still no one in sight. I thought I heard a giggle but there was no way of pinpointing its location. Slightly pink, I slowly walked away from the scene dumbfounded and perturbed.

By the next day I had forgotten about my experience in the street and once again made my way out of the English Sanctuary and down the road.

“Hello! Who are you?”

Stunned, I wheeled around to yet another soulless sight.

Giggle.

And the wayguk marched on, this time more amused than unsettled knowing now that this had to be a child. No Korean adult would attempt something as attention seeking as this. But it was the giggle that gave it away: a short high-pitched giggle that could have easily been issued by a young boy or girl. The hunt was on.

I started noticing over the past weeks before this that there were a number of my students who lived in the same neighborhood as me. This made me very anxious to watch the students' reactions as they saw me for the first time that day, hoping that one would slip up and emit that same giggle upon seeing me in class as opposed to on the street from their hiding place. Nothing. No one reacted differently. No one seemed to whisper in their neighbor's ear and then glance up at Ryan Teacher and smirk. Not a damn clue.

After the fourth day in a row of random English shouts from what I could only think was a child hiding behind a car I was getting desperate. Ideas of how this kid was pulling this off stirred my imagination. A walkie-talkie. It had to be a walkie-talkie. No, no, no… It was two kids, hiding in different places! Then I realized that if I added one more, it was officially a conspiracy. I dropped my 'tag-team' theory immediately. Luckily I had not lost any sleep over this… yet.

It was Friday afternoon and I was walking down the usual route. I had thought of taking a different route to sidestep the situation but realized that this game was helping me break the monotony of my past few weeks and stayed the course. I was approaching the scene where I had been shot down four days in a row, where I was out-gunned in my native tongue by a child, where I stood slack-jawed and spinning for minutes on end. My eyes were searching every window, doorway, car, and manhole cover.

I got within three steps of my recurrent assassination site and then I heard it. Behind me, upper level, dead center: a window shade being pulled open.

My heart beat faster, time slowed, and I found myself doing a sudden about-face and without realizing what I was doing or saying blurted, with double finger-guns pointing towards the child's silhouette in the window:

“HELLO!”

After a split second of shock, the shape collapsed from view of the window and then we shared a maddening giggle as I turned again and continued on my way to work never to know the identity of my English sniper.

I had all of last week off due to summer vacation but will be returning to my hag-won on Monday. I spent the last week seeing the sights around Ulsan since I did not have enough time to plan anything for my vacation. Nonetheless, I had a great time showing Dave Ulsan and hanging around with some folks who are on their way out. The negative to this is that I have completely inverted my sleep schedule for the past week. In a very depressing sort of way it reminds me of my time recovering from my back surgery as I've been up all night and reading Harry Potter.

The good news is that I have officially been in South Korea for over two months now. I have been able to adapt well to my surroundings and have found a very solid group of people to befriend. I hope that with this foundation the next ten months will be full of fun memories and good times.

I had a great opportunity to head down to Ilsan beach with Dave again where we commenced playing carnie games and drinking with Tamsyn, Heather, and random other wayguks who showed up throughout the night. We had a great conversation with a Korean guy outside a 24 hour mart where we decided to set up camp for a few hours. It still amazes me how much information you can pass on with less than ten words of common language and non-verbal communication.

Next weekend I am planning on heading down to Busan where I will meet up with Dave and head over to an island south of Busan that was used as a POW camp during the Korean Conflict. Should be a very interesting visit.