368 Days in Seoul

Golf in Korea

It's over. I leave Korea on Wednesday morning. The new teacher has arrived and moved in. He has completely taken over my classes and the kids are excited that he has curly hair. He has successfully reminded me that I never again want to have roommates. He has cluttered my kitchen and stomped through my apartment with his shoes on. He's a good guy- I've just become particular. I have four different pairs of slippers in my apartment, all for different spaces. This time I can honestly say that it's not him, it's me. He's proven himself perfect for the job- laid back and unconcerned with all the little things that drove me crazy about my school.

Book vending machine- 2,000 won each (2$)

I just experienced my last week-end in Seoul- mostly calm and relaxed. I went for dinner with Song in Gangnam (or the world's plastic surgery capital) last night, hoping to find billboards encouraging me to have my face redone. Part of me hoped to be dragged off the street by some doctor pleading with me to allow him to perform the dreaded calf-reduction surgery. I hoped to leave Gangnam with stories of the craziness of the plastic surgery explosion. But alas, it was free of unsolicited offers of plastic surgery. We were, however, surrounded by Louis Vitton and Gucci stores. I tried to count the designer purses for awhile, but lost track and gave up. We had Vietnamese food and then indulged in four dollar ice cream. I had to get something obscenely expensive there. After dinner, we hopped on a bus to Hungdae to meet Simona for drinks. The night was largely uneventful- just a casual night out with Song and Simona. It was exactly what I wanted for my last week-end here. I didn't want a ridiculous drunken crawl through the streets that I would regret in the morning, and in years to come look back on my last days in Seoul and kick myself for having spent them recovering from a hang over. It seems Song wasn't ready to say good-bye, as she ducked out early declaring that she was too drunk. A terrible lie when I know full well that she can drink me under the table. We made tentative plans to meet the following day, but it never came to pass. It seems we avoided out tearful good-bye simply y not having one. I know that we'll see each other again because neither of us have finished traveling. In fact, we've barely started. It's just sad that after six months of spending nearly every week-end together, it's come to an end. Just like that. I hate good-byes. When I left Calgary, I learned that you keep in touch with those most important to you and even some you never expected to. But it's harder when you can't see ahead to the next time you'll sit together face-to-face and have a beer. As the stretches between my visits to Calgary grow longer and longer and the visits themselves become shorter, I lose touch with more and more people every year. But that's okay. We have alot of people in our lives who are just 'filler'. People that we don't have a particularly strong connection with, but they're okay to go for drinks with. I've lost touch with all of my filler friends in Calgary. Distance and circumstances have cut the list of people I call when I arrive in town- and of course, it's nothing personal. There are still alot of friends in Calgary that I suspect will be in my life for years to come. But I wonder how many of those relationships only stay alive because of my annual drop-ins. The unspoken promise that I'll pop in to say hi once a year. I hope that Song and I are up to the challenge. That we'll last through the separation until the next time we meet, because I know that there will be a next time- whether it's in Canada, Korea, or some random country in between.

Turtles for dinner?

I've reached the end of a year and the end of my Korea rants, it would seem. Amazingly, I've run out of things to say. That's not exactly true, I suppose. Were I to stay another year or two, I know that I would have just as many rants in me as this year. But my Korean experience has come to an end and I'm looking forward to the next phase. On Wednesday, I leave to run about in Thailand and Laos for two weeks before returning to Canada. The next month will find me running here, there and everywhere. I may or may not update everybody next week on my travels - I suspect that Internet access will be hard to come by in Laos, but plentiful in Thailand. I'll continue to post for as long as I have things to say- and I'm sure you'll find my rants about my first few weeks back throughly entertaining... For those of you in Calgary, I'll see you for my annual stop-in on November 16th - where you hopefully won't feel like tossing me back on the plane as you experience the brunt of my culture shock. Beware that I will probably complain about the cold and how expensive everything is. I may embarass you by trying to barter at 7-11, Moxie's or even KFC. And I'll definitely be speaking a version of English that has come to be recognized as "Konglish". I'll be speaking painfully slowly and doubtlessly making big x's with my arms when I say no. You can't say you haven't been warned. I will expect the undivided attention of everyone in sight for no particular reason. I may become irritable if some random person doesn't tell me I'm beautiful at least once a day. I might take my shoes off in restaurants and try to sit on the floor. I may insist that the server help me put my shoes back on, and then offer him no tip anyway. I will doubtlessly bowl people over in the street in a race to get there first. I apologize in advance to any old ladies who might be knocked to the ground. Ajimma, as they're called here, are a force to be reckoned with.

So the sadness and reluctance to leave have mostly passed and I'm ready to go. After all the ups and downs this year- the excitement, shock, frustrations and occasional anger- I come to an end of my time here, but I look forward to my next visit to Korea. Somehow it'll always be a home away from home. I'll be curious to come back in five, ten, even twenty years and see how much Korea has changed- because as much as I've enjoyed living here this year- this culture is also verging on some immensely exciting changes. It will be a very different place next time I'm here, for change is in the air. My final count of women smoking in the street rests around. I suspect next time I'm here, there'll be many more. If there isn't, it will be because Koreans have finally realized that their healthy food is no match for the amount of cigarettes and soju consumed here. Kimchee might battle some illnesses, but I suspect lung cancer isn't one of them.

Self-Rev?

I've never been one to trust therapists. I had a bad experience at the age of fourteen and quickly declared it all a crock of shit. My parents had just split (for the second and final time) and things had become chaotic as they do when the balance is thrown and everyone is recast in different roles. My dad became the 'week-end dad', as that was the only time we had to see him. My mom was suddenly the bread-winner, I was 'stand-in parent' and Tyler and Travis were... well- confused. With chaos, of course comes anger and frustation- but instead of sitting down and discussing our feelings within the family, my brothers and I were carted off to therapists. Or rather Tyler and Travis were- I refused to go. Then one Saturday morning, my sleep was interrupted by a strange woman sitting on the foot of my bed. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of waking up next to me, I can assure you- it is no pleasure. I am a nasty, hateful morning person and everybody knows it. The woman introduced herself (as though I'd care) and I lay there in silence. I don't remember what she said or what happened, I don't remember how long she stayed, but I remember being mad. She finally declared that perhaps she had caught me at a bad time and would schedule an appointment. What a novel idea, I thought! At what other point in my life would a complete stranger have the audacity to come into my room, wake me up and tell me how I feel? I hope that any of my friends crazy enough to have children will remember this story when they decide that their teenagers don't deserve the same respect given every other person. In any case, she scheduled an appointment and told me when I could expect to see her again. Unfortunately, I immediately forgot the appointment date and happened to be home when she stopped by. She and her crazy male counterpart took me for pizza and again, I sat in silence. They rattled off about how they understood how I felt and knew I was sad my dad had left. I shouldn't blame myself. Why the hell would I blame myself? This woman was unbelievable- it was as though she had rented all the teen angst movies she could find in preparation for our meeting. I opened my mouth only twice over dinner- once to correct her and tell her that I had been hoping my parents would split since I was nine years old. The second time to answer her stupidest question yet- if your parents were animals, what kind of animals would they be? Without thinking, I rattled off the first two that came to mind and refused to explain why. I imagine they probably looked up said animals in their 'guidebook to the teenage mind' when they returned to the office. It was right next to the check list of the way fourteen year olds feel about their parents divorce and the asterix that says teenagers love pizza so much, they'll do anything for it.


Apparently psychologists and all their friends (social workers, psychiatrists and all the other crazies) believe that family life in childhood has a huge impact on how you grow up. They say that girls will marry someone 'just like their father' (although my mother has often told me that I'm just like my father- now what could that mean?), and boys will marry someone just like their mothers. They believe that if you grow up with instability, you'll seek it out as a comfort in your adulthood. I wonder. As I deal with crisis after crisis, it has occured to me that perhaps there is some truth to all this. I do seem to have a knack for choosing the most difficult route in every possible situation. As the oldest child and the only girl, I was a little spoiled when I was young. Not in the way that I would get a toy for crying, or a candy if I screamed, but spoiled in activities. My parents always supported my interests. I started swimming before I could walk, and skating shortly after I did. There was an endless string of lessons- piano, clarinet, ballet, gymnastics, soccer, basketball, baseball, figure skating... my parents spent alot of my childhood driving me all over for my lessons. There was never any pressure to continue if I wasn't happy, but it seemed I couldn't be happy unless I was running around. I've definitely brought that to my adult life.

As this year draws to a close, I've begun to contemplate how I've changed. My mom has asked me countless times this year if I regret my choice to come. It's seemed a ridiculous question to me all along. How could I regret an experience that is so unique? Before making an exciting new purchase, we get excited, we think about it alot and then we convince outselves we need it. So we buy it and our focus quickly shifts to the next exciting purchase. In the same way, it's easy to forget what an incredible opportunity this is, because it has become my reality. My dad reminded me the other day that he's never had the chance to travel, and I remembered that it is something special. When I consider that I knew absolutely nothing of Korean culture only a year ago, it's amazing how much I've learned. And how much I've changed. When I landed here in Korea, I had in mind only two goals- to see the country and pay off my student loans. But my plans soon changed. I had never travelled before. Why would I waste all the money I saved on paying off my student loans? One hundred and fifty dollars a month for the rest of my life wasn't the end of the world. How could I waste an opportunity to travel in Asia just to pay down a relatively small loan? How could I think about returning to school when I hadn't owned a computer since I left my parent's house? How could I think of giving money back to the banks that had screwed me for years, at the expense of all this? This year has given me some distance. When I lived in rich, rich Alberta I always had a savings account. I went out alot. There was rarely money problems, from what I remember. But all that changed when I moved to Quebec and got sucked into a system built around taxing you to death. Quebec say fare (Quebec sait faire), as my dad says. It becomes difficult to see your options when you're living paycheck to paycheck. In fact, all you see is that you have no options at all.


I feel like I'm constantly fighting part of myself. I have a desire to be stable, responsible and dependable. Part of me wishes that my apartment were always clean and my things always in order. The other part of me is the definition of indirect. I start a hundred things and only finish two. In fact, I start things I know I won't finish just for something to do. For those of you astrology buffs, I'm a Gemini in a Virgo's body. I feel like my friends are split right down the middle- those that know me from my Calgary days and those that know me from Montreal. My Calgarian friends will remember that I was constantly changing apartments, jobs, roomates and boyfriends. My Montreal friends remember that I lived in St Henri before Fred and I moved in together. They don't remember me before Fred because I met them around the same time we started dating. I always run into at least two of my exs when I visit Calgary- but in Montreal, I only have two exs (and they don't count). I know that either I've changed alot, or I've found something worth keeping when I think about Fred. We just passed our four year mark- the last year of which has been entirely long distance. We've talked almost everyday- even if it was just a couple minutes. Fred tells me that years ago, he wouldn't have been able to handle it. I know for a fact that years ago, I wouldn't even have tried. The problem with loving chaos and stability at the same time is that the grass is always greener. Years ago, I would have taken my year away as a chance to enjoy the freedom from my committed relationship. But when I arrived in Korea, I realized that I had found what I was looking for- there was no point in looking further. I don't know when I grew up, but it seems that I did. I can't decide if that's scary or not. It definitely scares me that I'm passed samples of anti-wrinkle cream in stores here, or that my kids sometimes slip and call me ajimma (middle-aged woman with kids). I look forward to getting carded in Calgary when I arrive- just so I know that I haven't aged that much.


I left Montreal without thinking too much about the experience of being away for a year, about teaching or about living in Korea. I really wasn't sure where I would stand once I got here- with my situation, with acting, with Fred, with myself. How could I? You can read every tourist book you find and still not be prepared for the actual shock of being here. There are tons of teachers that arrive and quickly leave because they hadn't considered that they might have to eat unfamiliar foods. Or feel unprepared when they sit down for their first meal in Korea and realize they've never used chopsticks. I wrote my first couple updates and emailed them off to anyone and everyone who had shown an interest... and many who hadn't. I hadn't imagined that I would keep writing regularly. But I kept getting a steady flow of comments and emails from people who loved the rants and were keeping on top of them. So I kept writing. I've always known that I could write, but I also took it for granted. I sort of threw it into the same category as brushing your teeth. But I've come to realize that it isn't that simple and I can get paid to do it. So why not? There is so much pressure in our culture to label ourselves and it leaks into everything. I remember thinking at 18 that I was too young to decide what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Here I am at 26 and I still feel too young. I don't want to make a choice. There's no reason I should have to. I can be an actor and a writer. I've discovered that I don't have a passion for teaching like I do writing or acting, but I can do it for awhile. Suddenly I see options everywhere. When I left the Hyatt last year, I told myself that I was leaving customer service for good. And I am. University graduates shouldn't have to work in restaurants- and the ones who get stuck are those that are too scared to leave. I've also come to accept, once and for all, that I need to work for myself. No more screwing around. IMAX aside, I've never had a job where I didn't look at my boss and think, "You're just so stupid." I'm not cut out for the 9 to 5 job, I hate mornings- although I've learned to be a little nicer because I can't yell at three year olds just for being three before I've had a coffee.

What's my point? I'm rambling. Young people often travel to 'find themselves', which has always sounded so cheezy to me. It's not a matter of finding yourself, at least not for me. There's no such thing, in my mind. It implies that you're static and just playing hide and seek. We as people are constantly changing- our views, our opinions, our realities and there is no better way of challenging yourself than spending time abroad. It's about being taken out of your safe life and dropped into the unfamiliar. When I think back on where I was a year ago, it was crucial that I came to Korea. No other country in Asia would have allowed me the same experience. I left Canada feeling disgusted with the state of the world. I looked around me, in one of the world's wealthiest countries and saw University students struggling through with minimal student loans. I saw homeless people that clearly should have been institutionalized. I saw myself working a crappy union job, where my co-workers kept assuring me that if I stayed thirty years like they had, I would enjoy equal rights. When I visited Calgary on my way here, I was shocked by what my old home had become. Big city problems had moved in and for the first time I didn't feel safe in downtown Calgary. I looked around and saw ten times the number of homeless than before the big boom. I saw more hard drugs. I saw more vandalism. I needed to see something different to show me that the whole world wasn't in such a desperate state. Being in Korea has been so refreshing. The subways are free of graffiti and trash- immaculately clean despite the absense of garbage cans. The incredible sense of respect that defines Korean culture makes it such a sharp contrast to Canada. Big screen TVs sit in public areas- no one even dreaming of stealing them. Heaps of bicyles in the street are unlocked. Young people quickly stand up to give their elders a seat on the subway- the seats for the elderly and handicapped remain empty in a crowded car. In some parts of Korea, in fact, they've had to install new signs to include pregnant women because even they were standing next to the empty seats. The tremendous respect and pride that Korean people have in their country has been so refreshing. It was exactly what I needed to see. There are still problems here- their hold on traditional ways has prevented feminism from really being successful. Corporal punishment is still acceptable in schools, and being Korean still means having two parents- both of whom are Korean. But these are all areas in which Korea can move forward, can change. I'm not sure about Canada. It seems that we have to move backwards to fix our problems. We need to move back and admit that maybe it is beneficial to have a parent at home. Maybe we try to pack too much into our lives and that is why we've lost a connection with our families. All those therapists make a killing off of telling us that the root of all problems is in the family. So why aren't we fixing it? There's a lot of talk and not a whole lot of action, as far as I can see. When will we stop asking why kids are getting fatter and fatter and just kick them outside to play with a soccer ball? When will we realize that despite all our talk of the enviroment, we're really slow on making any changes?

I'll soon be leaving Korea- taking with me a new knowledge of this very different culture. I know that some things will be very hard to adjust to in Canada. I might have my purse stolen a few times because I'll forget that that happens. I'll be really annoyed that my cell phone doesn't work on the metro, despite the fact that I pay five times more for the service than I do here. I'll be upset that Starbucks doesn't charge a deposit for the cup and that the depanneur doesn't charge for the plastic bag. The lack of street food will undoubtedly upset me. Where will I get my egg sandwiches? Even if I could get them, they wouldn't be a dollar. On the other hand, I look forward to enjoying a pizza without corn and sweet potato. I'm looking forward to seeing crowds of women smoking in the streets of Montreal, since it's the only place you can smoke now. I'm excited to get back and see so many nationalities around me and hear so many languages. I can't wait to have a good cup of coffee.

A Severe Case of Commitment Phobia

I have always suffered from a severe phobia of commitment. From the time I moved out of my parent's home at the age of eighteen to twenty-one when I moved to Montreal, I count five apartments and twelve roommates. Alex was the only one that lasted a full year. The perpetually complex state of my revolving-door relationships must have been difficult for my friends to follow. Until I met Fred, the longest of these had lasted four months. The first of these four month relationships, was of course the infamous Rob who I believe was forced out of the apartment after promising to move to Montreal with me and revealing he believed we were 'meant for each other'. Famous last words, it would seem. The second of these was the less than infamous Daniel who was kept a guarded secret (one that mysteriously leaked out anyway, Caycee) because of the questionable age difference between us. Daniel saved me the trouble of ending our relationship at the four month mark when he announced he was moving to Ireland to pursue his Master's in Acting (or some such non sense). But Daniel had not yet boarded the plane when I met Fred. I distinctly remember telling Fajer (my roommate of the moment), that Fred terrified me because I had the unsettling feeling that he might break through the four month expiry date. It seems that uneasy feeling was right- here I sit four years later wondering how it is that he snuck up on me like that. I have come to realize that this fear of commitment is not unique to roommates, apartments and boyfriends. It seeps into every aspect of my life. I hate to make plans ahead of time- commitment phobic, you see. More than anything, this commitment phobia has affected my direction with theatre. Teachers and fellow students in school told me that I was a bit of a mystery to them- I had all the pieces to be really successful, but I was choosing not to put it all together. It's true. Putting all those pieces together means making a commitment to myself, to follow through. It means no more excuses, no more bad jobs. It means making a real commitment to theatre.
I glance at my fancy Korean cell phone and realize that the countdown it began long ago to my final days here is fast approaching. As I stumbled in late last night from a day out with Song, I began to feel the first pangs of resistance. Was I ready to leave? For months I had promised Song that I would be back, but the realization has begun to hit that this may be it. Maybe I won't be. Throughout this year, Fred and I have talked many times about returning to Asia together in the future. Part of me loves to believe that it'll happen, but another part of me wonders. I have been bitten by the travel bug- it is certain that I will find myself back 'dans ce coin', but in promising Fred and Song that I'll be back, I suddenly feel as though I'm promising to put my life on hold again. Life in Canada has been on pause for nearly a year now- my career and education plans put aside for a time while I take a year to work on me. The only thing that has changed in Canada is my relationship with Fred. It's continued to grow and change as it needs to under these odd circumstances. In saying that in two years we'll be back, implies that we'll be perfectly willing to again pause our lives in Canada and return to Asia. I'm not sure that's reality. I have found a direction this year. I have come to realize that committing to theatre does not need to mean a commitment to poverty. It doesn't necessarily mean that I am deciding to pursue acting at the exclusion of other interests.
Years ago someone told me that Sesame Street was to blame for the existence of Attention Deficit Disorder in our generation- that we had become so accustomed to receiving a full story in the space of a minute or two that this later affected out ability to focus in school. Perhaps. If this is true, than it is not only my knees that bore the brunt of my active childhood. My parents encouraged and supported my involvement in ballet, gymnastics, figure skating, soccer, basketball, baseball, swimming, synchronised swimming, horseback riding... the list goes on and on. It wasn't until I reached high school that the line was drawn, as it seemed that it was suddenly impossible to participate in everything that I wanted to. My activities were grudgingly narrowed to drama, soccer and basketball. Maybe this is where the reluctance to commit stems from. There's so many choices, so many options- why commit? Why should I choose? To be honest, I've come to realize that it is just not in my nature. There is too much to life that I want to experience, and I've acquired interests and skills in too many areas to say that 'this is it'. My reluctance to commit to theatre is exactly that. I have scattered passions, and I want to pursue them all. And I've realized I can.
Months ago I began to have minor panic attacks at the thought of returning to Montreal. The prospect of returning to customer service both infuriated and terrified me. Now I find myself looking to it excitedly- Montreal, that is, not customer service. At points this year, I have fallen into the trap of treating this year as though it's my one and only opportunity to make money. I felt incredibly guilty buying my computer, convincing myself that I should put the money aside for savings. Illogical when you consider that I'm not sure how I made it through my first degree without a computer, and I am certainly not going to do it again. I contemplated my trip to Taiwan, again thinking I should save the money instead. Fortunately logic kicked in at moments. I've waited since high school for an opportunity to travel, I'm not about to waste this opportunity to see the world. Further, this year has prompted me to see how many opportunities there are and assured me that if I am willing to go a few uncomfortable months upon my return to Montreal, it will pay off. I know what I'm going to do, and I love that I'm tossing around a hundred different possibilities, none of which involve passing out CVs to restaurants.
I seem to be rambling today. Truth of it is that my feelings about returning to Canada change every ten minutes, making it very difficult to articulate them without contradicting myself. Even with the contradictions, it's hard to communicate. Last week, my secretary at school passed me a belated-birthday present. I held back tears as I read her note that apologized for her poor English and expressed how sad she was that I would soon be going home. Kate and I have hardly spoken this year as her English is only slightly better than my Korean. I hadn't considered how difficult leaving was going to be until that moment. I never realized it was possible to feel so close to someone that you had exchanged so few words with. And even fewer were understood. My countdown tells me that I have 50 days until the end of my contract. Part of me feels like that I need more time. I wish I had fewer week-days and more week-ends before October 31st. As Song and I parted ways last night, I felt upset that I am now left with only six Saturdays before I head home. The interviews for the poor sap that will replace me are in full swing. Whoever it is will arrive in five weeks. October 31st will be an incredibly emotional day for me. Not only is it my last day at school, but it is also the two year anniversary of Tyler's death. Instead of rushing home after this emotional day, I'll be packing my bags to rush through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia (true to my nature, making things as difficult as possible) for two weeks before landing in Calgary to visit my mother and my few remaining friends. With all these thoughts floating in my head, I went to bed last night and called Fred this morning when I woke up. He was busy and we only spoke for a minute before hanging up. Suddenly the seven weeks before my departure felt like an eternity. I checked my cell phone, hoping that somehow in the last ten minutes time had sped up and it was finally October. No such luck. The end is so close and so far all at once- and time seems to be slowing down the more excited I become at the prospect of being home at last...

When Enough's Enough

I remember arguing with my dad when I was younger and I always got in trouble for the last words I would scream out before I slammed my door. I always needed to have the last word. It always made me feel like I won. Of course, often what I ended up winning was a week or two without seeing my friends. I've never been good at keeping my mouth shut and even if I can do it, there's always a breaking point. I have a great deal of patience, but when I snap, that's it. I snap.

For as far back as I can remember I've always had problems with 'authority'. Sometimes it works out for the better and sometimes it doesn't. At sixteen when I quit Red Lobster, they quickly offered me the promotion I wanted, and a raise. At IMAX, quiting got me the pay raise I was after. I walked out on my first job in Montreal to prove a point. Told off the manager and stormed out of the store. My crappy serving job at Nickel's ended when I landed work at an expensive restaurant in the Old Port. There are few things as liberating as telling your boss that you won't be in today or ever- especially when he's fired countless people days before their three month probations were up. I stormed out of Vieux Port after a particularly disgusting display of sexual harassment. I even hit the guy. I was proud of myself. My days at the call center ended with a very honest meeting where I held nothing back in explaining exactly why I was leaving.

Friday night as I left work after an excruciatingly long week, I silently fumed about the unpaid training session I was being forced to attend on the week-end. To make matters worse, the training was being held outside of Seoul and I would be stuck spending the night there. After a long week of children crawling all over me and striving to keep my patience when I'm on the verge of losing it, I dreaded the thought of this session. I knew without a doubt that this would be the biggest waste of time I had ever experienced. And it was. We met our boss at school at 10am Saturday and piled into his mini van for the two hour drive. I slept. When I woke up, I was in a large classroom with a hundred other teachers and a very angry woman from head office was listing off the rules for the conference. 1) Room keys are to be held by head office- if you need to return to your room you need to ask permission 2) Do not leave the grounds without asking permission 3) The dorms will be locked at 10pm. No one is to be out after that. I was suddenly furious. I had resolved myself to spending the week-end at this useless meeting, but I was not about to abide by a curfew. I had calmed myself all week by believing that head office would take us all out for a big dinner, surely with plenty of wine and soju. As we headed to the cafeteria and glanced at the questionable 'fusion' of Korean and Western dishes- I realized it was not about to happen. I had rice for lunch, with a glass of water. The demeaning training session involved watching two adults bouncing around the classroom for an hour pretending that they were teaching five year olds. Equally demeaning was the fact that many of the people around me were playing into it. We had two presentations from publishers about their products- which may have been helpful if I taught any of those books and my kids were old enough for any of the suggested activities. Dinner time. More rice and water. Even the kimchee looked disgusting. As I made a move for the front gate (without permission), I found a depanneur and we stocked up on soju for what would definitely be a long night. After dinner we were subject to a three and a half hour complete and utter waste of time. Each school did a role play of a fake class for the other teachers. I couldn't even begin to wrap my mind around the stupidity of the situation- a grown adult bouncing around like an idiot trying to teach phonics to seven English teachers pretending to be five year old children who are really learning the letter F for the first time. This torture, which began at noon finally ended after 10pm. We were finally released to our rooms with promises of being awoken at 7am. The teachers from my school sat and talked for a bit, drank some beer and soju and then went off to bed. The accommodations were traditional Korean style, so we slept on the floor- meaning that I didn't sleep at all. I tossed and turned until the angry woman from head office pounded on our door and ordered us to go for breakfast.

I got up, dressed and left. I couldn't take it anymore. I was supposed to head back to the conference room and be talked at for another five hours about the different Brighton schools, as though this would have a direct impact on my experience as a teacher. As though I weren't going home in two months and this training wasn't completely useless. I had hit my breaking point. After ten months of dealing with my boss's complete disregard for my contract, I just couldn't take it anymore. The health insurance guaranteed me in my contract never came through. Excuses, excuses and more excuses. The pension guaranteed me never came through. The questionable wording in the contract allowed me to believe that my vacation days were paid, but in fact they are not. My boss kept my degree from me for months, fearful that I would find another job. I finally won the argument to get it back- after three hours in his office trying to remain calm about the theft of the most expensive paper I've ever held. I should have hit my breaking point long ago, but I kept looking forward to the end and saying I could suck it up. But clearly it snapped today. I teach seven classes more a week than any other teacher. I have more baby classes to entertain than anyone else. And I've fought since I got here for one thing after another. I'm tired and ready to go home.

As I left the conference with a feeling of satisfaction, it wasn't until I got on the train to come back to Seoul that I began to wonder about the consequences of this act of defiance. In Canada I know I could talk my way out of it- I could explain myself in a way that they would understand my side. I'm good at bullshitting and usually people find it's easier to agree than to argue. Or perhaps they get confused and lost in my endless monologue. Difficult to say really. But I wonder in a culture that so values keeping up appearances and looking in control what sort of scene will result from my actions. Will there be a big blow-out with my boss tomorrow? Will he find himself thoroughly embarrassed that one of his unhappy employees jetted at the first opportunity? Will I find myself back on a plane to Canada a couple months early? I suppose these are the consequences that I perhaps should have considered before I stormed out. But really, where does it end? In spite of my job, I have had a good experience in Korea but as the end draws near I'm finding it hard to remember that. I know last week my post was also a rant about my frustrations. Don't get me wrong, I have had a really positive experience in Korea. But there are so many things that I just can't take anymore. I have never felt so trapped in my life- trapped by the prospect of being blacklisted by immigration if I bailed on my contract. Trapped by the expense of the plane ticket that would take me home. The bottom line is that a man whose business relies solely on keeping his English teachers happy should learn to do more to keep them happy. There is nothing holding me here. My family, my friends and Fred are all in Canada. I can't wait to be home and if I am fired tomorrow, perhaps it's a blessing in disguise. The ticket home might be expensive, but I'm getting to the point where the money just doesn't matter anymore. I want more than anything to sleep in my bed, in my apartment with my cats and my Fred. I want to speak to people and be understood. I want to come home from work and order a pizza. I want to go for a coffee after work. I want to be surrounded by people who know me. I want to walk down a street and feel invisible. I want to see my family. I want to lie in the middle of a big grassy field and read a book. A French book. I want to get back to my life. I have learned and grown so much this year but none of it fits yet with my life. Will I go back to school? Where will I work? What will I do with theatre? The problem with taking a year off to work abroad is that your life is at a bit of a standstill. My life in Canada is on pause, but everyone else is rushing by at normal speed. I want to be on play again.