Digs

In my novel, Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary, I wrote about a Scottish-Canadian, Roland Axam, who goes to South Korea to escape his tragic past. When I originally started writing the book, however, Roland wasn't the central character: I was.

I had planned to chronicle DW's and my two years in Korea, adapting to our new lives as English teachers in East Asia. I wanted to give readers a glimpse into what it was like to teach abroad.

It was an exciting time in South Korea. Political corruption, financial turmoil, and an election where one of the candidates was a former exile and political prisoner, who had survived assassination attempts. He ultimately won the election.

During the first year in the country, DW and I had to overcome several challenges. In addition to learning our new surroundings, understanding the cultural differences, and learning how to speak and read Korean, we had issues with our work, dealing with an unpredictable employer and various teachers who either were unwilling to adapt to the students' needs or were dealing with emotional baggage that they had brought from home.

We even had a thief in our midst.

While I wanted to highlight our experiences in Korea, I felt that presenting it from my personal point of view was too flat, and so I brought in a fictional character with his own backstory, and embellished some of the drama (though I kept true to the original narrative).

As I make plans for my return to Korea, in May, where I hopefully become inspired enough to finish the sequel to my book, I can't help but recall some of the memories from when DW and I first arrived in the country. I'd like to share some of those memories on The Brown Knowser.

The first chapter of my novel is largely true.

When DW and I arrived in Seoul, we were met at the airport by one of the teachers at our hagwon (learning institute). When this teacher had, herself, first arrived in the country, she had no one to meet her and had to find her own way to Chŏnju, a city that is a three-hour bus journey from Seoul.

We couldn't imagine how stressful that would be, seeing that we were anxious enough about arriving in a foreign country, not as tourists but as residents and workers. DW and I were grateful for having this fellow Canadian as our escort.

We encountered our first problem after the teacher led us, by shuttle bus, from Kimpo Airport to the Express Bus Terminal. We had just missed a bus to Chŏnju and had to wait another three hours before the next bus departed. It was a Saturday night, and we were stuck in Seoul until 11:00. With no lockers to hold our belongings so that we could explore the city and no benches on which to sit and wait, it was the longest evening for two travellers who had already experienced their longest day.

We stood with our belongings while we watched Koreans come and go in the main area of the bus station. Silently, to myself, I read the Hangul signs that listed various destinations, sounding them out in my head.

We conversed with our fellow teacher, asking about our private school, the students, the other teachers, and our boss. We talked about the city—its size, ease of commuting, the attractions, the food. DW and I had learned, from books and from a Korean consulate worker, as we prepared for our departure, that Chŏnju was the epicurean capital of South Korea. Food was exceptional.

By the time we arrived in Chŏnju, it was 2 am. DW and I had been travelling for days: Ottawa to Toronto, and then on to Vancouver, where we visited a friend for a 24-hour layover. The next day, we flew to Tokyo, and then to Seoul. We had departed Ottawa on a Thursday. It was now Sunday (though, in our Ottawa-aligned heads, it was technically Saturday afternoon).

Part of our negotiation for our teaching contracts was to have our airfare reimbursed after three months and to be provided with a private apartment, rent-free. We were a married couple, after all, and deserved our own accommodation.

When we arrived in Chŏnju, our fellow teacher hailed us a cab and directed the driver to take us to an apartment in the remote neighbourhood of Dongsan-dong. This neighbourhood is close to where the Honam Expressway, which took us from Seoul to Chŏnju, and the exit for our city meet. Our escort pointed out the neighbourhood as we passed it and I was surprised at how far the bus continued to its terminal. It was about 15 to 20 minutes, by taxi, to head back out to Dongsan-dong.

Dongsan-dong Woo-sung Apartments. Our unit indicated in red. Photos courtesy Google.

The teacher brought us to the eighth floor of an apartment complex. Outside, in the dark, and in the open hallway that looked into the parking lot, the foul smell of burning garbage singed my nostrils. It's a smell that, to this day, I can vividly recall.

View from outside our unit. Garbage was burning in the yard below.

The teacher produced two sets of keys. One, she gave to me: the other, she used to unlock the apartment at the end of the hall. It was at this point that DW and I learned that we were sharing a two-bedroom unit with this teacher.

Problem number two: this would not do.

DW and I explained the arrangement that had been made with the hagwon director but there was nothing that we could do about it now. We'd have to wait until we met with him and get this straightened out.

As it turned out, we didn't meet with the director until the end of our first week, as he had been out of the country, on business (he also owned a trading company). It turned out that one of the hagwon's other teachers was using the apartment that was promised to us. By the time that the issue was settled and that teacher found another place to live (she moved in with a friend who was teaching at a different hagwon), it had been two weeks since DW and I first arrived in Korea.

The new digs was smaller, but roomy enough for DW and myself. It was an extension to a private house that was owned by friends of our director and his wife, and was possibly, at one time, a servant's living quarters.

The house was located along a narrow alley in Chinbuk-dong, just a 10-minute walk from the hagwon. Our flat had three rooms: a living area, where we had a table, fouton, foot stand (two boards, covering two milk cartons, which held our books, CD player, and speakers) and a dresser; a galley kitchen; and a washroom. The kitchen could be accessed from a mini-door in the main living space or from a door that led from the courtyard at the side of the house. The washroom was only accessible from the courtyard and had no heating.

Chinbuk-dong flat, indicated in red. Photo courtesy Google.

Living area/bedroom, before we purchased our yo (fouton). Door led to the house (locked). Our flag worked as a curtain: A Korean flag (not shown) covered the other window.

Bedroom, looking toward the kitchen (mini-door) and storage space, above.

Kitchen, viewed from the courtyard door.

Standing in the courtyard, looking into the washroom (left) and kitchen (right). We placed a 1-inch piece of Styrofoam at the kitchen door to keep the cold (and unwanted bugs) outside.

It wasn't optimal but it was private and was in a convenient location. The mini door and main door to the living area could be locked. A gap under the door to the kitchen was a couple of inches: we had to fit a 1-inch piece of Styrofoam in the door jam to keep the winter draft from freezing the kitchen and to give creepy crawlies from easily accessing the galley.

Food was kept in sealed containers and in the refrigerator. With the exception of an errant cricket, we had no infestations. Dishes were cleaned after every meal and the tiled surfaces were disinfected weekly, without fail.

Though a washer and drier also occupied the washroom, they were disconnected and didn't work. To wash our laundry, DW and I drove to the Dongsan-dong apartment each week.

DW and I lived in this flat from mid-March, 1997, until the end of December, when the economic crises that was afflicting so many East Asian countries had finally taken its toll on our hagwon. One of my loyal and favourite adult students helped us move out of the flat and into a spare bedroom at our friends' flat, another couple who we met in Beijing and continue to be friends with, today.

More memories to come.