Quirks and Talents

Today I've been reflecting on my love/hate relationship with teaching children. They are so annoying but I would certainly miss them if I didn't work with them anymore. They mess around and fidget and fight. They tell the teacher on each other, "Teacher Cunning!" being their way of informing me that someone is cheating during a game. They pick their noses all the time. They don't listen, they argue and bicker and swing back on their chairs until they fall. 
Then there are the funny, quirky things. Like this morning, a boy took the stairs four at a time, stretching each leg out as far as it would possibly go, just for fun. Another boy "swam" across the floor to his team line. They laugh at my stupid jokes and are enthusiastic about games and stamps and winning. Boys and girls will scream and immediately stop arguing with each other if I ask if they are boy/girl friend (whilst making a heart shape with my hands).  They emphatically inform me they are bery bery bery hungry! or moan when another student cuts the lunch line Teacher, sejegae! (bad spelling).

But my favourite thing about kids, the thing I would miss the most, is how happy and in the moment they are.
 
The other day we had a talent show. Being someone who only plays the piano in a shadowy, deserted room, I'm always amazed and delighted by the willingness of Korean kids to showcase their talents. They love to dance to K pop (with its wonderful set dance moves- so regimented, so Korean). They love to sing. Sometimes they play instruments and other times they act. I've seen all sorts, and naturally the ability ranges from wonderful to painful, but in my eyes the students who suck are to be more admired. To be able to stand up on stage in front of your whole school and sing a shaky, way-out-of -your-vocal-range rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" from Le Mis is no easy task. Well done, I say! Seriously though, somewhere down the line I developed this idea that I would only do something if I was good at it, and even then sometimes I wouldn't want to. I love that these kids just go for it, whatever their ability.
This week's talent show was extra special because we had a surprise performance from the entire school, aka more than a hundred kids dancing in a regimented mass. It was amazing.

 How can I ever say my job is boring?

Last week Lee and I went to the Asian Games, to watch a women's semi-finals cricket match between Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. It wasn't the most spectacular thing I've ever seen but nonetheless it was fun and I improved my (albeit almost non existent) cricket rule knowledge. The crowd was sparse to say the least, outnumbered by cameramen 2-1, meaning that we were filmed quite a lot and probably have now appeared on Bangladeshi prime time TV. It was a wonderfully sunny beer-filled day, so perfect that I even had a little snooze halfway through the game. Afterwards we walked around the stalls outside the main stadium, so Lee could play on the games and make new friends.

It was tense, I can tell you

Can you spot the boys in the crowd??

Lee's big win

In the moon

Lee's buddy

A grand day out!

 

Middle Ground, Where Are You?

The atmosphere  here in Korea continues to be a somber one, in the wake of the sunken ferry Sewol. Our camp has been affected by the government's decision to tell schools to cancel all field trips for the rest of the semester. Within a week of the accident 80% of the school groups had cancelled, rendering the corridors, classrooms and open spaces here eerily quiet. The impact of this is that some Korean staff are not having their contracts renewed, and all the hourly paid workers-maintenance, catering, shop assistants, counsellors- are out of a job until things pick up again.
On the one hand it's an extreme measure, on the other I can't blame the government, schools or parents for wanting to safeguard their children after such a tragedy.
Out of the 325 students who went on the trip from the school in Ansan, only 75 survived. Most of the survivors are still in hospital with many students receiving psychiatric treatment. It's hard to even begin to imagine what survivors, family and friends are going through right now.
There's been a lot of discussion and anger about the failure of adults both on and off the boat to respond to the disaster as it was happening. The image I keep getting in my head is of all these obedient children waiting in their cabins whilst the adults failed to rescue them. There have been some arguments blaming the Confucianist values of Korean society, the values that mean young people respect their elders and do what they're told. I don't think it's fair to say the children would've escaped on their own had they not been Korean, but I still can't shake the feeling that the questionless conformity that exists here may have played a part. Funny really that this was the subject of my last blog before the disaster.

In more tragic news, last night I read about the horrific incident in a Leeds secondary school in which a teacher has been stabbed to death by a student, in front of her entire class. I can't even begin to process the implications of this, our first teacher to be murdered inside a British school. I just don't understand how a fifteen year old with a grudge could feel justified or indeed have the guts to take a kitchen knife to school, walk up to his teacher in the middle of class and stab her repeatedly in the neck as she tried to get away. It blows my mind.

Apologies for being full of the joys of spring today. What strikes me about these two awful incidents is that in a way they represent polar opposites. The first shows a failure of adults to help students who trusted them, the other shows a teenager's complete lack of regard for a teacher's life.
I would like to live in a society somewhere in between Korean and English cultures, but I honestly don't think it exists. Here we have babies sent to the orphanage if their mothers are unwed; at home we have a welfare state that encourages young mothers to pretend they are single so they can get maximum benefits. More and more I am realising there is no middle ground.     

To end on a (much needed) lighter note, last week I taught a magic class, in which I wowed and amazed a class of 11. One of the high points was a trick in which I put a paper woman into an envelope, cut her in half and then put her back together again. Sometimes I have these out of body experiences where I look at what I'm doing in class at this school and think- huh, is this really my life? Am I really 'teaching'? 
Then there was mind reading trick. The English level in my class was pretty low so I carefully selected the kid I thought could handle it. I told him a few times (with elaborate actions)  to write his favourite animal on a piece of paper. When he finally understood, he slowly and meticulously wrote a word that I swear must have been at least ten characters long. I then asked him to show it to the other students... this also took what seemed like a lifetime. Then I told him to write five other animals on the other pieces of paper. He said, Ney? (Korean for 'Yes' but often also means 'what the heck are you talking about?'). I repeated the command several times in as many ways as I could and as simply as I could until finally he said 'Ah!' and nodding his head enthusiasticly, he got to work on writing down the other five animals. As you can imagine this process was also a long one. Eventually, I heard those magic words- teacher finished! I took the papers off him, ready to perform my magic. The audience waited with bated breath.
I looked at the first piece paper. PIG.  
This was going to be fun, I just hoped I could pull it off.
Then the second one- PIG.
Oh no.
Then
PIG
PIG
PIG
PIG.
 
Abracadabrah- so I guess your favourite animal's a pig then?

And that, my friends, is what we call an ESL teaching fail.



 P.S If you feel like looking at the first chapter of my dissertation story, you can read it here. Any thoughts, comments or criticisms would be greatly appreciated!

  

As Tragedy Unfolds

I felt today that I needed to write about the thing that's been at the forefront of my mind for the last couple of days. It's not a happy topic by any means, but right now a necessary one.
As the families of the passengers on board the now sunk ferry wait to find out if there are any more survivors, I feel like I am waiting with them. 
The story has made international news at home and in the US, but in case you don't know, a ferry carrying 459 passengers, travelling from Seoul to Jeju Island in South Korea, sank on Wednesday. The majority of the people on board the Sewol were high school students on a field trip. Reports are inconclusive right now as to what happened exactly but they think either the boat hit a rock, or turned too quickly causing cargo to shift to one side. Either way, the boat fell on its side and then later capsized. As of this moment 25 are confirmed dead and 280 are missing.

I've been reading all the updates and the tale that is unravelling just seems to be getting worse and worse. Of course it gets worse by the minute in that the likelihood of finding survivors is becoming less and less likely. But there are so many other things too. The weather and sea currents are so bad that the rescue mission is almost impossible. In fact three divers went missing at one point but thankfully were later found. In the official statement released by the parents, they say that they were at first informed that all the passengers had gotten off the ferry and that they should go to pick them up. When they got there, of course they found the reality to be entirely different. Some parents apparently went out in their own boat with private divers to try and help, but had to turn back due to several of them fainting from distress. I can only begin to imagine how distraught they all must be.
Police are now requesting an arrest warrant for the captain who abandoned ship rather than trying to help his passengers. Aside from the fact that it's against sea law for a captain to do that, it's difficult to get your head round how he could've left all those children and saved himself. I can't pretend to know I would be brave in that situation, but I like to think I would try and do what I could to help. There are reports coming out now about adults who died doing just that, and I hope they will be remembered forever by those people who were saved. The captain has released a short statement saying he's 'deeply ashamed and so sorry.' I think it would be easy to blame him for what happened and to condemn him for what he didn't do, but at the same time I have no idea if I would be able to act in a different or better way if I were in the same situation. The vice principal of the school was rescued but has now been found to have hung himself, near the gym where all the parents are waiting. I think this shows the extent of guilt any adults survivors must be feeling at this time. Whether we believe what they did was right or wrong, it's definitely fair to say they've been through something terrible.

What really gets to me is that unlike a plane crash, there was a window of opportunity in which many more people could have been saved. They ferry was only 25km off the coast of Korea, and there were fishing boats nearby that quickly picked up people in the water. Reports have said that passengers were told to 'stay where they were' and then never actually instructed on how or when to try and escape. And then it was too late.  It's so angering. I know it's generally not advised to jump into freezing cold water, but I think a lot more people would've had more of a chance than they do now. 


Anyway, apologies for such a depressing post, I just wanted to say something about it. And now all I can do- along with the families, the people of Korea and the rest of the world- is put my trust in the rescuers, wait and hope for a miracle. 

Questionless Conformity

The trouble with working in Korea is that it lulls you into a false sense of security in terms of your classroom management skills. The students are generally so well behaved it borders on scary. They are also easily controlled due to their love of doing things en-mass. For example, if you say "be!" to a group of Korean kids they will respond with "quiet!" before shutting up completely.
We often have over 100 students together, and so we adopt this simple crowd control technique to get them to stop talking and listen. It goes a little something like this:

Teacher: "clap 1 time!"

Students clap once.

Teacher: "clap two times!"

Students clap twice.

Teacher: "clap 3 times!"

Students clap three times and then (as if adhering to an unwritten code) put their hands on their heads and are quiet. 


They all do it, everyone one of them. To not do it would to be not Korean.

Last week I was in a group activity and the kids were being pretty loud. My colleague decided to make them clap once, clap twice, clap three times. Then they sat there in silence, hands on their heads until she-like a drill sergeant- shouted "3!" again. They clapped three times in absolute unison before putting their hands back on their heads. My colleague sternly surveyed the obedient crowd before once again demanding loudly "3!" 
This went on for a while, the students sitting their with their hands on their heads, waiting to be commanded to repeat the procedure. It was weird. Sure, it's nice to have such obedient children, but the likeness to robots is sometimes a bit much.

When I left Korea the first time I took 'clap three times' with me, and remember being a bit put out by my European and Saudi students' reaction to it. As in "teacher, what they hell are you doing?" My seven year old Saudi boys would just look confused and then shrug at each other. The concept was even lost on the Japanese students we taught here a few weeks ago. Interesting as they share many similar 'passive and obedient' traits to their far eastern neighbours, but not this one.

I'm aware that the film Frozen has become something of a worldwide phenomenon. I like it. I get it. I've even been practicing some of the piano music. But to like it is not enough here in Korea. Much like their obsession with soju (they've single-handedly made it the worlds most purchased alcoholic drink), the nation has been struck with Frozen mania. Actually, it's more pinpointed than that: it's "Let it Go" mania. The kids sing it in the corridors, they sing it in the classroom, they sing it on their own or as a class choir. In our fashion show they insist on dressing the girl as Elsa, and the boy as Anna (to which he never objects) before parading down the catwalk to the song. 
And on top of all this, I've heard it in so many bars I've lost count.
I sometimes feel like a switch on the motherboard was at some point flicked to "you will love this song with your very being."

Sorry Korea, you know I love you but sometimes you are too creepy!


In the spirit of things, I'll leave you with an excellent rendition of "Let it Go," sung by an impressionist as various different Disney characters.

 

Jeju Island Love

A couple of weeks ago we were kindly invited by a friend to stay with her in Jeju Island.
The centrepiece of the island is Korea's largest mountain: a snow capped inactive volcano that erupted a very, very long time ago (yes, that's as accurate as my geography-history is going to get today), creating the rock formations that make up the lay of the land today. 


But before we could begin all the cultured sightseeing, we had to get one job out of the way: an entirely necessary trip to Jeju's famous Love Museum!

 

Needless to say it was an entertaining experience. I particularly liked the small and notably loveless 'Kids Land' outside the entrance to the museum- a depressing indoor play area for people to deposit their kids before going off to enjoy themselves. 



And now- allowing the photos to speak for themselves- back to an entirely different type of au naturel...   

Rock walk around the cliff

Hole in the wall

The view from the posh live-jazz-in-the-middle-of-the-day hotel we nosed around

Indulging  my Alice in Wonderland side at a maze

The 1km long lava cave. It was so tranquil in here, the only sound the atmospheric drip dipping of water from the ceiling

About to climb the crater

A view from the top through a telescope

The crater

And back down again

I'd definitely visit again, knowing now how much more there is to see. The beaches for one are just lovely, although next time I want to visit during a slightly less blustery season!

 

Hairy History

Yesterday I finally got round to dyeing my hair (from dodgy root ridden blonde to random red!) and then in a crazy mood of hair indulgence I went to the hairdressers for a cut. I've always found Korean stylists a little frightened of western hair, and this trip was no exception. 
"English hair very difficult,' professed the hairdresser as she tried to work out the many knots in my wet hair. 
With a look of doubt she then added, "Home, hair care?...Rinse?" (hair conditioner?). 
Despite her broken English I got the message loud and clear: my hair was a dry, knotty, uncared for mess. In my defense I mainly blame the shampoo girl, who rubbed my head with the towel so vigorously after washing that I thought my head might fall off. 
Not getting very far, the stylist called for back up and before I knew it there was a man on the other side of me, holding up more knots and oh-so-slowly-and-carefully trying to get the brush through my poor humiliated hair, unable to hide the displeasure in his face.

As I sat there wishing I wasn't there, my mind wandered back to the many adventures and insults my hair has endured over the years. 

The first time I remember really noticing my hair was when I was about seven and I decided I wanted a bowl cut (where your hair literally looks like someone put a bowl on top of it and cut round the edge). Being a tom boy this appealed to me greatly and I even ended up with some neat little triangle strands in front of my ears, pixie style. I recall being most pleased when I entered the classroom the next day and my teacher said, "Oh look, we've got a new boy."
 
Skip forward a few years to university, where I decided I liked black dye (regardless of my pale face). On top of this, in an attempt to save money I asked my sister to cut my hair for me, adding in a nice thick fringe. We went out that night and as soon as we sat down a friend of mine proceeded to try and pull my 'wig' off.

Another time at uni a shocked and appalled hair dresser told me in these exact words, that "if there were social services for hair, mine would've been taken away a long time ago."

About a year later I had descended into the black with a blue shine tone, which I liked very much until one of the gruff northern inmates at the prison I was working at said I looked like a granny with a blue rinse.

Then there was the perm. My dream of bouncy, big curls was thwarted by my dreadfully fine hair, instead creating an effect that was more of the limp and lank curl variety. 

In the past two years I've continually dyed my hair into varying shades of light brown and blonde. Last year I changed it back to brown, but it came out all patchy with spots of leftover blonde. My answer to this was to go back to blonde again, therefore using five bottles of dye in 2 weeks. Now I'm no hairdresser but my stinging scalp spoke for itself in telling me that this wasn't a smart thing to do. At the end of it all, as my sister so aptly noted, I'd achieved that "yellow I liked so much."

A couple of weeks ago in Hair Salon class at school, a student said my hair was three different colours: Yellow, gold and brown.

Time for a change, I thought.

And so there we go.

 

Red hair, lazy picture

Dream Big, Kid

I recently went on an outing to an ice rink (and on a side note I'm pleased to announce that, unlike the skiing debacle, it was a roaring success!) As I slid at my 'Rachel pace' around in a steady anticlockwise motion, I watched the girls in the coned off section in the middle practicing their turns and spins. Despite often falling over (to the great displeasure of their rather grumpy old man instructor), they were amazing. One girl, aged about eleven, span quickly round and round and round, holding her leg bent behind her as she went and then slowly bringing it up until she was doing the vertical splits. Wowser.

Olympic champion skater Kim Yuna

My friend told me that Kim Yuna herself used to practice at that very ice rink when she was a hopeful figure skating youth.














As I watched I began to ponder on the wonderful- and often later forgotten- world of children's hopes and dreams.

A few years ago I attended a training workshop as part of a collaboration between youth workers and other agents of services for young people. The training was led by a woman from Connexions, which for any of you who don't know, was a careers advice service for 13-19 year olds in the UK. My own experience of them had been less than positive, consisting of a single thirty minute slot in which a fifteen year old me checked boxes next to the relevant interests and strengths and was then presented with a list of completely bizarre 'suitable' jobs. I seem to remember accountant being one of them...

The workshop was about helping to guide young people on the right paths to jobs. I can't say I was particularly inspired, but thought the premise sounded fair enough. 
That is, until the trainer opened her mouth. 
Within five minutes she'd depressed me so much I just wanted to run out the door and never look back. 

Her opening deal was this:

"What did you want to be when you were young?"
We went round the room:

"A fireman!"
"A Space man!"
"A Gymnast!"
"A Pianist!"
"A children's author!"

Oh how we all laughed. 


Then she said (brace yourself): 

"And what do you want to be, now that you're grown up?"
Nobody else even flinched.

"A lifeguard."
"A police man." 
"A senior youth worker."
"A manager."
"Erm...A children's author?"

She chose to ignore the fact that my two answers were the same (I suppose it didn't really fit with the ethos of her workshop) and proceeded to announce:

 "And thats what Connexion's is here for-

to connect young people with their realistic dream jobs!"

I'll never forget that. 

I teach a class here where each student thinks about what job they want when they grow up. I love that to a child the difference between becoming a teacher or becoming an opera singer, is nothing.

It's their dream, and that's it.

So I say dream big, dream big like a kid and forget what that Connexions woman said. 

 

Trying to Try New Things

During January two ever so slightly less than successful new experiences have come my way.

1. Skiing

Looking back I was so naive to think what I thought: that everyone could ski, that it was no big deal. In my head those things were true. And that's how Lee and I ended up at the top of a mountain slope, wondering how the f*ck we were going to get down. 

I knew I was in trouble as soon as I put on the boots. They were incredibly tight and rigid, and almost impossible to walk in. I nearly fell on the steps from the car park to the ski slope. I probably should've turned back then.

I tried to learn how to move and stop. I couldn't do it. Within minutes Lee went sliding uncontrollably down into the path of oncoming skiers, promptly falling over and detaching ski boot from ski.

For some reason after this we and our two other companions thought the natural progression would be to get on the ski lift and just 'give it a go.'
The journey was pretty and would've been quite relaxing had I not been thinking about how I was going to manage to get off the thing.
Lee was in front and it was his turn. 
He got off and fell over. 
I nearly snapped my legs off having not understood the Korean command 'lift your feet up.' My turn came and I began to panic. I couldn't bring myself to jump off the stupid thing. 
Before I knew it I was swinging around and heading back down. 
I wish they'd left me but unfortunately the staff pressed the emergency stop button and, much to my extreme mortification, came to my rescue. They took my skis off and put them to the side. I waddled over, re-attached them, moved about three feet and fell on my bum.
In the middle of asking if I was OK, Lee began to slide towards the hill. Before either of us knew what was happening, he was sliding down the hill. 
My friend thought Lee was simply keen to get stuck in, but I'd seen the look on his face as he went faster and faster with no idea of how to stop.
He disappeared, leaving me to wonder: 
a) if he was going to live to tell the tale  
b) how I was going to go about following him.

The next hour consisted of me shuffling, slightly sliding, falling, spending excessive amounts of energy trying to get up, getting sweaty and stressed and being embarrassed.
I thought skiing was supposed to be fun?
Eventually I asked my friend to go on without me, leaving me to cool off in the awkward position on the slope that I'd fallen in. 
Lee came back for me- which was very nice considering he felt he was a risk up on that slope to himself and everyone else around.  
I had one last failure of a go and after that we took our skis off and slid down the mountain in our boots. Now that was quite fun!


Next time (if there is one) I will be getting a lesson.

Sitting safely at the bottom

2. Visiting a dog cafe. 

Dog and cat cafes are pretty normal in Korea. They are what they say on the tin- a place to drink coffee with friends and pet said animals. 
I've always been intrigued, which is why I forgot to consider one rather large problem- I hate dogs.
On the journey there it became more and more apparent that I was being a bit stupid. I've never been friends with a dog. I've been bitten by two different dogs and attemptedly humped by several. They are smelly and needy and hairy and disgusting. They bark and jump up and have big teeth. In general- except for the really small fluffy ones- I find them quite terrifying.  
As you can imagine I felt like a complete idiot when we arrived and I had to be coaxed even into the 'small dog' arena. How stupid do you have to be to go to a dog cafe when you're not at all keen on dogs?

Lee and his new friends

In the big boys section were a range of breeds and sizes, free to jump up on the adoring customers as they pleased. I lingered at the gate, looking over nervously, but couldn't bring myself to go in.

So I sat in the corner, hoping none of the little dogs would notice I was there. Sometimes a big dog or two would enter the small dog pen, causing an uproar of noise amongst the dogs, and a near heart attack in me. A golden retriever thought it would be funny to slip in when the gate was opened, and run around the edge of the room under all the tables. My heart leapt into my mouth as I held my breath, hoping he would pass without attacking me. 

And then, the beast to end all beasts, the king of all that is canine, a massive white thing paraded through with its owner. It was fluffier than anything I've ever seen on four legs, yet still its part-wolf-part-horse look frightened the living daylights out of me. Surely it could (and may well) devour every single one of us? My only protection was the chihuahua sitting next to me who began yapping like crazy, clearly thinking he could take on the monster.

Teddy bear/monster wolf cross breed

Thankfully the outing wasn't a complete disaster, in that I did make one friend. A small raggedy old thing that sat next to me, tongue out, slobbering on the chair. Sure, he was asleep for most of the time, but I did manage to stroke him a couple of times.
 

So there you have it: a summary of how Rachel tried and failed to do new things! 

What will be next?
  

Oh, You Kids!

A bit of background info about the place I work at.
Seoul English Village is an English immersion camp, with situational classes. Students come and stay here for a few days, usually with their school, usually hundreds of students at a time. Students come, students go: a fact which has positives and negatives in equal parts. We get variety in age, English level and background of students, but don't get to build relationships. Kids we like leave, and so do kids we don't like.

Over Winter Camp we've done Oral Tests, to allow us to put the students into teams based on their level. The Oral Test involves asking questions, to elicit answers hopefully using a range of tenses and vocabulary. As the student sits down in the seat opposite us, we have no idea where they're going to be at. Sometimes they are incredibly cheerful, other times they look around shiftily, looking for someone to rescue them. Sometimes they're fluent. And other times when we ask the first question, 'how are you?' the answer is a slow, practiced, careful 'I am nine years old.'

Usually I ask a random selection of suggested questions on the list, steering clear of the last one.

"What is the most important thing in the world?"

 Whoa there! I'm sure there are many adults who would struggle to come up with a quick or real answer to this mind blowing question. I can't help feeling it's immenseness is rather inappropriately aimed at the (more often than not) 9-12 age bracket here at SEV.
That being said, this time around I decided to give the question a go and have become intrigued and slightly addicted to the answers.

             "Money"
                               "My brother"
                                                         "Homework"
     "Energy"
                                        "English" 
                                                                "Water"
"Study" (so I can speak to people when I visit Paris) 

                         "My dream" (to become an actor as well as teacher)


and the most wonderful answer of all, 
                                             "Peace"

I love how individually valid and different these answers are. There's a distinct line between awareness of the wider world and a close, egocentric (and therefore childish) sense of what is important.


A class here that can be at either end of the mind numbingly boring-amazingly interesting spectrum for a teacher is Post Office. The main aim of this class is for each student to write a letter to their favourite teacher. More often than not the kids have only been here for a couple of days, and so aren't particularly bothered about writing to a teacher. Other times their English is so poor that they do well just to copy out the words I've written on the board, including the gaps I meant for them to fill with their own words.

 

I'm having a ____________ time at SEV.
My favourite class so far is______________.

Nice one.
Needless to say, every teacher is thrilled when one of these bad boys appears in their mailbox.

Other times you get a strangely insulting letter, such as the one I got a few weeks ago, which went something like this:

Teacher have big face

I'm love you

Joke

I'm sorry!

My my. Rude and bad grammar. 

But then occasionally you get those students who've been here for a while, who know the teachers and really want to write a good letter (and not to mention, have the ability to do it). My most recent Post Office class was one of these instances, and here are some of the results:

One Last Winner is a quiz competition- does she think it's gonna be lots of questions relating to snow??

He is quite alone in being impressed with the food here!

I'm concerned my hair colour has really descended into a nasty yellow.

Another highly entertaining event here at SEV is the evening Winter/Summer Camp Talent Show, of which we've had a few recently. The talent show is a time for students to dance, sing, attempt magic tricks or put on skits. It's all very cute. There are times when the kids are so good they leave you speechless.
And there are other times when they leave you speechless in a whole other way. A couple of weeks ago we had one of those Talent Shows, where most of the acts were just plain painful. One girl (I like to think of her as the ringleader of the painfulness) decided to sing a cappella. It's not that she was bad, it's just that even professionals can't necessarily sing to a room full of people without musical accompaniment. The audience talked over her and we were embarrassed for her, but she plowed on, seemingly unaware (for not one but two songs.) At the end she won third place, but when she got up to receive her prize she looked far from pleased, clearly not having praticed her 'gracious loser' face.
Then last week she came back for more! Her rendition of 'I Dreamed a Dream,' from Les Miserables of course had no music to accompany it. It was a painful re-enactment of the last weeks performance, but made even better by the last note, which dragged on and on.

drrreeeeaaaaaaaaammmmmm! (for at least 10 long, slightly warbly seconds)

Loved it.  

    

Getting into Nature

Whilst not being a fan of new years resolutions, I have decided that this year I want to make an effort to get out in nature more. I've spent the last few years living in cities- and capital ones at that- and find it's easy to get sucked into the charms of the man-made and forget to do anything else. When I'm at home especially, I spend the majority of my time in Coventry, Birmingham, London or other cities, with not much chance to get out into the countryside. It was only last summer when I had the use of my Mum's car that I have the chance to see some fields and trees.
It is often argued that how much time we spend in nature can have an impact on our mental health. In today's world it's easy to go day to day from building to building, from concrete to concrete. We are guilty of sometimes valuing technology and money above animals, trees and water, which when all is said and done are things we cannot survive without. To not ever experience the natural world, is, quite simply, unnatural.

Our school here in Seoul is right next to the mountains. A few days ago I went on a hike with a friend, finding ourselves away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city within ten minutes of leaving the house. There are various trails, a Buddhist temple (with chants emanating through the doors) as well as a tower that shows an incredible panoramic view of the city. There are also some outdoor gym areas dotted around. One place was like a youth club; music blaring, people hanging out and chatting, the only difference being that they were all over the age of fifty.
The mountains are such a calm and tranquil place so close to home. I must remember to go there more often, and next time I will attempt to fit in with the Koreans by taking some makkoli (rice wine) to enjoy at the top.

Yesterday Lee and I went to Seoul Forest, which is meant to be the biggest park in Seoul. It has been compared to London's Hyde Park and New York's Central Park, but I have to say it paled in insignificance in comparison to either. Perhaps it would be nicer at a different time of year, with leaves on the trees and running water features, but I still couldn't help being a bit disappointed. Seoul is known for its lack of green parks, and Seoul Forest is no exception, favouring concrete over grass in most instances. We had hoped to hire bikes but were told when we got there that you had to hire them from the subway station. The park is also so surrounded by freeways that the constant hum of traffic was never far off.   
Complaints aside, we had a good walk and had fun playing in the children's play areas. We drank warming coffee and visited the adorable baby deer park. 

 

Some rules for the park. No burping? Seems a little strict.

And one last ramble on the theme of the 'natural.'
Recently I've been going to the gym a bit and am thoroughly enjoying the Korean attitude towards nudity. The women parade around stark naked in the changing rooms, chatting and blow drying and generally seeming ultra proud of themselves. One girl even put on her bra, t-shirt and jumper before even thinking about putting on a pair of knickers. I'm not sure whether to call them weird for being so open, or to admire their lack of prudishness, but either way it's pretty entertaining. 




Well that's it from me. Have you been anywhere nice recently?

All about 2013

Although self-indulgent, I couldn't resist the old 'round up the year' post. 


In 2013 we took 22 flights.

The first half of the year was spent surviving Saudi. Hard to believe now that it was only that long ago.

In January a visit home, for snow and a belated Christmas of sorts.

In March a strangely timed holiday with three of our parents to Cyprus, at the height of the country's financial crisis.

Surviving the first year of being married was celebrated with a visit to Dubai's Burj Kalifa.

I challenged myself to get to the top of a climbing wall- and made it!

The summer was spent at home, chilling with family and friends and spending far too much time in Wetherspoons pub. 

In July a two week long house music festival in Croatia, to 'get over' Saudi.

Secret Garden Party in August reaffirmed my faith in new music and England in general.

I finally embarked on the second year of my masters course.

Lee was best man at his Dad's wedding.

Whilst the stay in Vietnam was short lived, we experienced some of Ho Chi Minh's beauty and history.

Then there was the crazy impromptu road trip covering some of California, Mexico, Arizona and Nevada.

I got my first speeding ticket.

We went back to Vegas.

Time travel happened, taking us back to a job and a country we never thought we would.

And last but certainly not least, two of my nearest and dearest ladies brought lovely babies into the world, who I get to meet in the new year.


That's about it!



Farewell 2013, it's been fun.

And now the question is- what weird and wonderful adventures will 2014 bring?