Alright, the adjustment tantrum is over.
I’m in the official apartment now- positioned right in the heart of the Siji neighborhood of Daegu. It’s fantastic. Just the feeling of having my own space again, the feeling of being grounded in one location, is a huge relief. Now that it’s all materializing I can’t help but look around and just feel good about where I am.
The apartment is spacious and full of character and good energy and frog-shaped wall hooks and crazy sparkling wallpaper. I have a giant wash room that looks out onto a line of trees, a supermarket, and a road that stems from the main road. I slide open my white windows in the morning and get a direct breeze from across the way and a quaint little glimpse of Korea in it’s morning works. I’m a five minute stroll away from work.
I was able to go to E-mart and deck my apartment out with all the things I need. A bed, a small desk, kitchen wares, cleaning supplies, cups, bowls, chop sticks, and laundry baskets. The whole shebang. And I’m getting reimbursed for almost everything I bought.
That’s about $200 worth of stuff that I don’t have to pay for but still get to use. That is awesome.
Not to mention, my job is going really well. It’s amazing how much creative license I have been given. My 40-minute classes are essentially mine to do as I please. As long as I can get those kids speaking in English and memorizing their weekly ten-sentences I’m free to get the job done however I see fit. Which means I am racking my brain for every possible game idea and dictation variation. All of the work I put towards my teaching is intrinsic. I am not wanting to do a good job to impress some boss. I am wanting to work hard and do a good job simply because those 40 minutes are mine and the students and I want to make it worth it for both of us.
Oddly enough, the last time I remember having a job with this much creative power, I was working part time at Trader Joe’s. All my other jobs have been surprisingly restrictive since then.
On the yoga front, I’m still pretty dissonant in class. I’m stiff and every movement is merely physical. There is no visible inner transformation going on. But alas, it’s only been, like, two weeks. So I keep going. I suppose these things take time.
Tomorrow I’m going to get a cell phone. This will be round two. The first attempt was a whirlwind of an experience. I met my co teacher at the Academy thinking we would spend about two hours finding and obtaining a cell phone. Six hours after meeting up with him I had obtained pizza, a desk, several floor cushions, three trash cans, a toilet brush, a makeup mirror, a mess of sea food soup, anju, six soju shots, two coronas, sliced pork covered in salad and sauce, and kimbap. No cell phone.
Turns out, the cell phone store rep told my co-teacher in a rapid-fire twenty minute conversation in completely indistinguishable Korean that it would be too expensive for me to obtain a cell phone on my own. My boss would have to buy it himself, as a native Korean, and have me pay him back. As a foreigner, I would pay practically double that of a native Korean. I was promptly ushered from the fuzzy pink chair and table out into the brisk Fall air, sans cell phone. I could’ve been really bummed, but the reality is that I don’t wanna shell out $600 for a phone I’m going to use for one year.
That said and done, my co teacher felt so bad about the cell phone that he took me on a whirlwind tour of Daegu. He has lived here for about 20 years. I saw the world cup stadium, a big lovely mountain, a waterfall, and a pink-clouded view of the Daegu valley below. I also saw a Pizza Hut, which turned out to be a full blown legit restaurant. Nothing like the bereft Pizza Huts you see in the U.S.
Megan had a mosquito net that she wasn’t using so I’ve hung it over my Korean bed mat and now I have a tiny princess bed corner and right now, at midnight after a day of work, that princess corner is calling to me.
It’s saying, “Stop blogging, you little narcissist, and get to bed!”