The road to Phú Quốc

The past month has been full of typical teacher responsibilities: report cards, grading essays, creating lesson plans, practicing for the song concert, preparing for yet another open house, and field trips.  After five months of teaching full time, I was more than ready for a week of vacation.

Two other foreigners planned to visit Vietnam back in April.  After balancing our budgets and doing some online research, Vietnam seemed like the best option for Kyle and me, as well.  The four of us settled on an island just off the western coast of Vietnam in the Gulf of Thailand called Phú Quốc.  It is rated as having the best and cleanest beaches in Vietnam and top-rated food.  It's also the only place in Vietnam that doesn't require obtaining a travel visa prior to entering.

Or so we thought.

During the two months between booking the flight and hotel and actually leaving, we went back and forth, deciding whether or not to go ahead and get the travel visa, anyway.  Maybe we'd take the ferry to the mainland one day to visit the historic sites of Ho Chi Minh city?  When it came down to it, we were just too lazy to figure out the confusing visa process, so we decided against it.

Which was the wrong decision.

The two other teachers had flights out of Seoul on Friday night, but with Kyle being an afternoon teacher, we couldn't depart until Saturday morning.  After an insanely stressful week (another story for another day...), I got right to cleaning the apartment and packing that Friday night.  A few hours later I checked Facebook and saw a message from Caitlin.  I opened my inbox to find nothing but, "call me now." Oh no, I ran to my phone to call her as quickly as possible, but I could hardly get passed the 15 missed calls I had from her.  Of course, she didn't answer, so I started pacing around the apartment.  A few seconds later the phone rang, and Caitlin asked, "Are you sitting down?"
Well, now I am.  She then informed me that we do in fact need a visa to get into Phú Quốc.  Because of the horrendous English spoken by the ICN airport employees, she was still trying to sift through all the details. 

Let me take a moment to introduce you to one of Caitlin's tattoos: Ganesh, one of the Hindu gods attributed to dealing with obstacles.  According to Hindu belief, Ganesh is responsible for removing obstacles, but at times, Ganesh will also place obstacles as he sees fit.  Thanks for that, Ganesh.

A few more calls were exchanged, and after an hour or so, Caitlin was finally able to fill me in.  The girls' first flight was through Jeju Air, who informed the girls they needed a visa even just to board the flight, let alone land in Vietnam.  The helpful Jeju Air associates also said their counters would be closing in five minutes, so good luck!  The girls went to the office of their second flight (Vietnam Air) only to find those people closing down, as well. 

Enter Mr. Choi.  A kind Korean (not sure if I'll use those two words together ever again.  I kid, I kid!) employee of Vietnam Air just on his way out escorted them into his office.  He offered them coffee and began explaining the error.  Apparently, Phú Quốc doesn't require visas, but the only way to get to the island directly is by cruise ship.  We all had connecting flights in Ho Chi Minh city.  Basically, at Ho Chi Minh airport you can't get to your connecting flight without going through immigration, thus the need for a travel visa.  To top it all off nicely, even express visas take one business day to process, and here we were sorting this out on a Friday night.  Rebecca was about to have Mr. Choi start the refund process, but Caitlin instead said jokingly, "Well, is there anything we can do? We do have cash..."  Suddenly, Mr. Choi remembered what a workaholic his boss in Ho Chi Minh is.  He rang him up and in a matter of minutes had travel visas for the four of us in the works.  For a price of course.  The girls missed their flights and had to wait for Saturday to reschedule them.  As if Mr. Choi hadn't helped enough, he offered to drive the girls home, for free.  This left Kyle and me to face the sketchy visa plan first.

We met Mr. Choi at the airport the next morning.  He recognized us straight away and checked us in.  With a reluctant face, he told us our flight was overbooked.  Of course it is.  He continued, would we mind moving to business class? One of the seats doesn't recline all the way, but the food is great! Would we mind? Rock, scissor, paper for the seat that doesn't recline!  He told us to move quickly to security, as we shouldn't be allowed to board the plane without visas, but his employees were waiting to let us pass.  One of the employees pulled back the barrier, checked our tickets and passports, then let us through.  We got to the terminal with no trouble at all.  We then boarded our first flight in business class.

It was all a bit ridiculous, but I'm certainly not going to complain! As soon as we sat down, flight attendants swarmed us, offering newspapers, fresh juice, and champagne.  We were given complimentary toiletry sets, slippers, blankets, pillows, damp washcloths to freshen up, TVs with an extensive collection of movies, a seat that reclined all the way into a bed (well mine did anyway), and unlimited alcohol.  Our flight travelled during lunch time, but we were still provided with a four-course meal.  It concluded with an elaborate tray of various cheeses, fruit, chocolate, and ice cream.  The whole ordeal took about two hours; then we watched a movie.  After that, it was already time to descend.  Time for the moment of truth.

We were instructed to seek out Ms. Ha, some employee who knew our situation.  As we walked off the ramp, we saw instead a short Vietnamese man holding a sign for Ms. Shelly Ann and Mr. Kyle David.  We followed him to a lone bench, and he asked us a few details about our trip.  He walked back and forth between our bench and the immigration window several times, but after about twenty minutes, he returned with our newly stamped passports.  We paid him, US dollars only please, then headed for the final step.  The immigration officer looked at my passport for what felt like 10 minutes, then gruffly handed it back and called the next person.  Kyle passed through in seconds, and we headed out into the stiff, choking Vietnamese air. 

The flight to Phú Quốc passed with no trouble, aside from the fact that the plane was so small we had to take a bus out to it.  There was no boarding ramp, only a set of stairs straight up the side of the plane.  The wheels were held in place by a set of cement blocks not unlike the ones my dad uses for his trailers.  Oh, and it also had propellers.

Luckily, the flight only lasted an hour. We arrived at an airport that consisted of two levels, each with one large room. It was the size of a small warehouse. And I thought Akron-Canton airport was small. We found yet another sign with our names and climbed into a taxi.  Thankfully, Ganesh eased up on us for the rest of the trip.

Kids say the darndest things, part II

I thought you might enjoy some more humor at the expense of my charming students.

I have a class of fourth graders who are just beginning to experiment with romantic relationships.  By romantic, I mean cyber girlfriends and boyfriends they shy away from at school but text late into the night when they should be doing their English homework.  Last week the class spent the lesson writing an autobiography of their lives in twenty years.  They wrote about the countries they'd visit, the mansions they'd own, the families they'd build, and most importantly, the ideal spouses they'd marry.  My most advanced student wrote about how by that time he will have graduated from Juliard School of Music having majored in piano composition.  He will be a world famous pianist tired of the every day world and living in Tahiti.  As such, "while watching the wooden canoes drift in the clear blue water, I will compose new music for my wife."  This music will never be released, as it is strictly for the love of his life to enjoy.  His second-rate music will be made into records for the general public, but his best, most talented music will be reserved for his wife.  Furthermore, "my now girlfriend might become my future wife, if I know her and still like her then." I wish you both the best!

Another student wrote a rather dull essay, or so I thought.  I skimmed through the poor grammar, running my red pen over every mistake when suddenly I see, "It's a secret, but I really like Won Jae!" Woah, woah let's back track... "I want husband to like going church, so he will go with our family.  He should have good manners and make people laugh, like Won Jae.  It's a secret, but I really like Won Jae!"

Won Jae is another boy in class, who of course, has no interest in Do-Yeon, so at the start of our next class I announced that I would be reading their essays aloud.  Do-Yeon's eyes nearly popped out of her head. 

Another day in this class we were going over the new vocabularly, which has to do with Pilgrims.  As a result, the new words have a lot to do with religion, like worship, faith, and revive.  As I tried to explain revive, the kids weren't getting it, so I imitated fainting, then being revived a few times.  At long last, one kid got it and yelled out, "Oh! Oh! Like Jesus!"  I nodded as another kid chimed in, "Jesus Christ, SUPERSTAR!" How in the world do these kids know Jesus Christ, Superstar? I will never know.

Another class of students took a quick-response quiz, where they have only one minute to answer a series of questions.  One kid answered this way:

What's your favorite book? I hate reading, so I don't read books.
When did you read it? I already told you, I don't read.
Why did you like it? Are you serious asking me again?
Who do you want to read it? AHHHHH this is ridiculous.

One of my co-workers showed us a sentence her second grader wrote for the vocabulary word 'whisper.' He wrote, "Whisper words of wisdom, let it be."

Meanwhile in preschool, things are getting good.  One random preschooler saw Kyle in the bathroom and changed his name from Monkey Face to Caterpillar Face.  Since June 1st, there's been a strict 'No Korean' rule even during playtime.  I feel a little bad for the kids as they grasp for words and phrases, especially since some of them seem to think pounding a fist on their temple will bring the lost word to mind.  One poor boy with the widest eyes and deepest voice misunderstood the meaning of, "I love you" for almost an entire week.  Rather than saying, "I love the playroom," or, "I love pizza," he would say, "I love you, pizza!" and "I love you, playroom!"  It was almost too cute to correct him.

My boss asked Iryne and I to prepare a special song to sing for the children to sing to the mothers at the end of Open House.  Iryne found a really sweet song called, "Mommy I love you."  One day while we were practicing, one girl was singing in a fake baby voice and doing really obnoxious hand gestures.  When the song finished, I was just about to address her behavior when another girl spoke up.  "Don't do that! Sing nicely, or your mommy is very sad." 

A girl who always reminds me to turn on music while she's writing or coloring also gives me a daily nutrition lesson.  "Shelly Teacher...um...eating kimchi...and...good...and...strong!" She also tells me fun facts like, "My house is two balloons! And my house is one dog!" Meanwhile the other kids are having a contest at who can out-compliment me.  "Shelly Teacher is beautiful!" "Shelly Teacher is beautiful star!" "Shelly Teacher is queen!" "Shelly Teacher is beautiful ballerina!" The overall sentence construction entertains me each day; it's like a puzzle trying to rearrange the words into the correct order.  "My is English! No Korean today, Shelly Teacher.  My is English!"  On the other hand, one girl's mother wrote a comment on her daughter's report card that said, "I'm really happy to see my daughter's English improving each month, but I'm also worried.  She's asking too many questions I can't answer, so I think her English is better than mine now." Similarly, sometimes the kids' sentences really amaze me.  One boy asked me to move by saying, "Shelly Teacher, please move your chair, I'm busy playing ninja."  Another girl approached me with a play tea set and asked, "Would you like to drink some chamomile tea?" Why, of course!

My little Huni had an accident in the playroom and peed down the slide.  No one thought it urgent to tell me, so they just kept playing.  Finally, one kid came up to me complaining that his socks were wet.  What? You're just sweaty. You'll be fine - go drink some water.  Then another kid said his socks were wet.  Okay, what is going on?  Then I heard the Korean word for pee, "Shi! Shi! Shi!" Ah, crap.  Settled at the base of the tube slide was a large puddle of urine.  Okay, who peed? Huni! It was Huni! Where's Huni? Huni, COME HERE! Playtime ended early that day, but luckily Huni's mother sent in an extra change of clothes at the beginning of the semester.

About a month later, I saw Iryne rushing out of Bear class holding Huni at arm's length.  I followed her into the Nightinggale Room and asked if everything's okay.  Huni had another accident.  This time she peed in a big lego bucket.  What! After a little more explanation, Huni told Iryne that the bucket looked a lot like those trainer potties little kids use.  After she changed I saw her skipping back to class through the hallway.  Huni, I say.  What happened to you? As her eyebrows rose up, a smile crept over her face, and she just shrugged her shoulders.  Then she skipped away.

B-Boy Competition

The week before Jane's wedding, we tossed around ideas for what to do after the wedding.  Weddings in Korea aren't like those in the states.  Instead of the party just getting started after the meal, once you clean your plate, the party is over.  We all figured since we'd already be dressed up and in Seoul, we may as well do something while we're out.  One teacher mentioned a "B-boy contest" in Seoul.  Hm?  You know, kinda like breakdancing?  Didn't sound too appealing at the time, then the week just got busier, so no final plans were made.  After the wedding buffet, we started discussing ideas again.  A teacher brought up the B-boy contest yet again.  Thankfully, a few other teachers said, "That doesn't sound like something I'd like.  We could always split up, though!"  We got to the subway station, and still a decision hadn't been made.  Two girls said they were going to the B-boy contest, and anyone else was welcome to come. Suddenly, Kyle and I were left standing alone. Hang out just the two of us - that was the last thing we wanted to do! What was the second-to-last thing we wanted to do? Go to the B-boy contest... A few near-collisions with Koreans whose faces were glued to their cell phones later, we caught up to the other teachers at the platform just before the train took off for Shinsa.  We soon realized that not only were we not looking forward to the next activity, the train ride was about an hour and a half long.

When we finally got off, we had to walk about two miles to the venue. In our wedding attire.  At long last, we arrived only to find a huge line out the door.  The line was made up of both foreigners and Koreans, all dressed in baggy jeans, cut-offs, proudly displaying their tattoos and flat-brimmed hats.  Here we were, winded and business casual.  Most of us plopped down on the nearest stoop to wait for a decision to be made.  I did this with an especially strong pout.  The two teachers who were excited for the contest all along jumped into line and immediately began making friends.  Another couple of teachers went off somewhere to find a bathroom.  When they returned, they were wearing Converse sneakers, torn jeans, and pony tails.  That's it, we decided, we're finding a bar.  Kyle and I left with two other girls and dived into the first bar we came to.  The bartender spoke no English, but we sank into one of her comfortable couches and wrote our order out for her.  As tradition in Korea requires, she also brought out a small dish of nuts and pretzels.  It's improper to drink alcohol without food.  We talked and laughed for a while over our $8 Budweisers.

 A few bottles in, Kyle looked at us and said seriously, "So are you really going into the contest?"

We all nodded, wondering what the big deal was.  He said, "Well, are you going to like, try and win or just goof off?" 

The three of us girls look at eachother wide-eyed, then burst out laughing.  It was quickly revealed that Kyle thought all along that we'd all have to participate in the B-boy contest.  One girl finally calmed herself enough to ask, "So what exactly was your plan, Kyle? To get eliminated immediately by not dancing, or just get drunk enough beforehand to not care?"

"I just wasn't going to go in at all!" Kyle said.  This, of course, led to more laughter.  Once Kyle realized he didn't have to compete, he said, "Well, then what are we doing here? Let's go in!"

The venue was like an empty warehouse all painted black.  It was packed, body to body, with three levels of walkways around the edges.  People dangled their legs between the railings, all trying to get the best view.

There was a stage in the center of one wall, and a long plain bar along another.  There were strobe lights and posters all around.  A DJ was set up on stage, and the emcee rolled around in a wheelchair.  Kyle and I looked at each other, laughing, suddenly feeling very relieved we'd ended up coming.  This was going to be good.

The bar was serving Smithwyck's, so we grabbed some beers and shimmied our way into the best view.  One by one, the judges came out onto the stage.  They performed some short dance number, then took their place in the judges' chairs.  The first round began.  The emcee spoke Korean the entire time, but the music was taken from many popular rap songs from back home.  Two B-boys were introduced at a time, then the DJ was called to "drop the beat."  The competing B-boys took turns dancing back and forth.  They were spinning, kicking, flipping, and handstanding all over the stage.  Sometimes, the competition got a little fiery, and the competitor would end his routine by puffing his chest up at his opponent or fake kicking him.  Other times when the second competitor started, he would storm around the stage in a circle, just staring at his competition, glaring and getting pumped up. 

Here's my favorite personality, the chef:

And here are the two finalists competing:

Like I said, the room was packed with people all staring at the same stage.  Anytime an especially good move was executed, the crowd would erupt.  When the competitors finished, the three judges each held up their choice's name.  Though extremely hesitant and judgmental from the start, within minutes of entering the venue, we found ourselves completely absorbed in the competition.  We were all at the same time amazed at the physical capabilities of the performers, entertained by the crowd's involvement, and enjoying something completely outside our comfort zones. 

I've never seen breakdancing outside of random scenes in movies or music videos, but I was really impressed by the way each dancer took on a personality. There were dancers who dressed in all black and danced like ninjas, not smiliing once while on stage.  Others looked nothing like break dancers in their fitted jeans and button-down shirts, acting nervous while the other dancers performed.  Then the music started and they let loose.  Another dancer dressed up in a collarless chef's shirt, baker's pants with an elastic waistband, and a bandana tied around his head.  He kept adding some sort of Latino flavor his moves and ended each routine with a full one-legged ballerina spin.  I quickly developed favorite dancers and was more than happy to stand there sweating in the packed warehouse watching each new round of dancing.  I was especially happy to see my favorite dancer take first place, B-boy Differ!

At no point in my life would I have been able to predict that I'd be standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of strangers in Korea drinking a beer and cheering on a bunch of Asian breakdancers with Kyle standing next to me.  Events like these remind me why I decided to come to Korea in the first place.  I wanted to stray from the path I was headed down and take an adventure.  Weekends like these leave me with experiences I won't have anywhere else, and though I'm not sure they'll teach me anything specific or help build my character, they leave me with a lasting happiness and satisfaction for what I've chosen for this year of my life.