I've reached the end of my first week teaching! I still don't know where I left my winter coat, back in Seoul. Luckily, it hasn't been cold enough to make me absolutely need it. The week has been mild, for February. It rained over the weekend, but it's Monday and the sun streams in through my big apartment windows.

Back in Seoul, the consensus was that I'd be starting teaching the last week of February, when the new 13-week term starts. The brand-new curriculum I was trained on gets implemented then. Whose classes would I take over, anyway? You're not allowed to take the beginning or end of the term off.

It turns out, I work with a staff of six other instructors. They have been short teachers for a while, and two of their teachers were deported weeks ago. They needed me to start teaching - Tuesday, the old curriculum - and not even the levels I was trained in! So much for the formal training, the business attire. My co-workers come to school in jeans and t-shirts. I'm to only female instructor at my branch though, so I don't mind dressing up.

I spent the first weekend unpacking, shopping, decorating. Nesting, I guess. I spend four-hundred-thousand won. It makes me laugh! I carry it all home from the stores. It doesn't make me laugh. Until I drop it onto my grubby couch. Then I laugh. Home.

Last Monday, HI Brian took me to the school - across town; 20 minutes by metro. I get jealous since a lot of instructors work at the bigger branch, right across the street from the apartment complex, literally five minutes by foot to their classrooms. But the staff is so approachable where I am, I find it hard to complain. I'll be teaching another four days this coming workweek; Monday off! (Although when you're paid by the hour, that's a bit of a compromise.) Everyone is so welcoming at work. I feel like I ask a million silly questions, mostly about the computer, which is all in Korean. The classes are so structured. I'm nervous, but not as much as I thought I could be. The kids call you "teacher!" here, and speak pretty well and can read out loud without much trouble. The first three-hour period, we have elementary-aged kids. They're "levelled up" here so age doesn't determine what class they're put in; only what time they come to the Company. The older kids, 13-15, come from 7 to 10p.m.

I try to keep with the hyper-timed class framework, but my HI seems pretty flexible. See, your classes are recorded by a hidden camera, which your boss reviews to give you feedback - it all fits so perfectly with the Big Brother theme I had going there, but I'm not making this up. Last week I got to sit in front of the eight screens and watch everyone teaching to get a better idea of how the classes run. It's more reassuring than anything, since my co-workers have since let me know that the classes I took over are some of the hardest: one of my junior levels is full of smart-alecks, and I have a senior class at one of the lowest levels who refuse to participate. Despite being much harder workers than any North American kids I know, there are many universals in teaching: the little kids are cute but silly, the middle-school kids are interesting but think they're too cool. I say interesting because after explaining the expression "like pulling teeth" to my stubborn class, I made them go around the room and answer "I am very good at *gerund*." A lot of them said "playing *musical instrument*" - the piano, the cello, the violin. It seems so cultured! Granted, the others are "good at playing Nintendo". Another universal.

While I spent my first weekend settling in to my own life, this past week I got to know my co-workers at the branch and also the Canadian couple I met at the party, who are the awesomest. They showed me a few good restaurants. She lent me her Costco membership. (She's Asian so I didn't exactly pass as her, but I explained to the cashier that she was my friend, and the cashier didn't want to argue with me since my Korean is still s*** and was filling my giant backpacker backpack with litres of orange juice and kilos of frozen fruit and rice.) The surprise lately has been prices: Costco was not wholesale at all, and even the Korean supermarket seemed pretty ritzy, on my still-student-budget. I expected certain Western luxuries to be pricey (the Couple spent $18 on a wedge of brie), but $4 for a kilo of rice? $200 for a small rug, which looks more like a child's comforter? $15 for twelve rolls of toilet paper? And spices have been hard to come by: I can find cinnamon, oyster sauces, and meat seasoning. No paprika. I'm getting sick of the chopped garlic from my 1-kilo frozen block from Costco. :) Come on, there MUST be crazy amounts of cheap spices; why are they hidden from me? It's very possible that I'm just not recognizing them.

All of this makes you want to go out for dinner. Why? Because prepared and served food seems cheaper than had you made it yourself. A full, hot, flavourful meal at a restaurant costs you $3.50. They must not be using the expensive rice. Other things are cheap: really nice pens. Postage. So send me your addresses! Although, I've yet to find a single postcard - there doesn't seem to be much tourism in Daejeon!

So my assumptions about cheap textiles, Eastern food, paper - they're being blown the pieces - which of course is the joy of traveling, and the stress, too. Since I live in the trendy New Downtown, near City Hall (yes Dad, now you can Google Earth me) I haven't been to any "traditional" Korean markets, so I might find I'm being overcharged at the local store here. There are still vaguely different things about the supermarket: the little screens on many shelves, blasting commercials for their products at you. (Screens everywhere, even the elevators. Although I'm told this is nothing compared to Japan!) The fish and meat sections are more market-y with the sellers screaming and coercing you to buy their produce - I completely avoid that section. But the cashiers ask me for my point card ( - I only understand when she holds up the card; I answer "no" to most of her questions, imagining it's "do you want to pay for plastic bags?" or "do you realize this is rat poison, not olive oil?" - really, she could be saying anything - ) and at times I feel like it isn't quite foreign enough.

What's with me? I'm in the Far East and I'm still thirsty for less comfort, more adventure. Talking with a lot of the other teachers, I'm starting to understand what the EFL stint here is all about. It's being abroad, it's travel, it's different and it's an amazing experience, but it's also a hiatus from reality. That seems to be a consensus. Many are here to get financially comfortable again: pay off student loans, put a down payment on a house, save up for a wedding - things back home, which are easily affordable if you're willing to leap into this crazy place for a year; we make a good living. Some have renewed contracts again and again: the deal is too good, they found love here, or they still don't know what awaits them back home. Others don't know where home is, and don't want to decide yet - I probably fit in here, with those who want to taste all the continents before…. before what? Am I denying reality? Maybe this is my reality, being a citizen of the world, one year at a time. All I know is, this year's going to be one to remember, and that's all I'm asking for.

Love from Korea. xo

Things I wish I could read:

-my washing machine / dryer k***

-my heat controls.

-my A/C remote

-my intercom / door screen buttons

-restaurant menus

-ingredients in sauces and other semi-prepared food on the shelf

-my supermarket receipts

-the Windows menus at work

-mailbox slot labels

-ads for plastic surgery in the metro - is that really hand-reduction?