Payday, New School, and a Random Encounter

02.08.07
12:22 am

Finally got paid today. At long last. Unfortunately I had to give away half of it to Ian for the China trip. It was his birthday. Happy Birthday here's a thousand dollars. Simultaneously the most cash I've ever held in my hands and the most cash I've ever given away.

* * *

The New School:

Yesterday was the first day in the new school. As we ascended the stairs in the new structure, a 10 minute bustrip from Gisang Dong, the smell of fresh paint and sawdust still clung to the air. Peering over the top step, it was evident why. The workers were still busy finishing up. Wiring the exit doors, painting the final coat on the walls. Ladders leaned against walls. Drag your finger down the wall and admire the collection of dust present at every construction site. It looked like they needed another week. But they had four hours.

Confused about our responsibilities involving the move, the foreign teachers did little to help (other than clean out our own desks). But apparently all of the packing and moving and unpacking had been done by the four Korean teachers, who were none too pleased that we had escaped the unpaid overtime scott free. Ian had apparently made it clear to Hannah that we had refused to participate without compensation. Honestly I felt a little ashamed that I hadn't helped and the Koreans had been forced to stay late, but Ian and Mark and Katrina all assured me it was an issue of principle. One day I would understand.

The new school is a true child of the modern era. More spaceship than education facility. The curved windows and bold paint. The cctv (closed circuit) in every room (yeah cctv, that means that anyone can watch us. It's broadcast to a tv screen near the entrance. Perhaps recorded? Perhaps broadcast on the internet? A little creepy?). The emphasis on curves and circles (reminiscent of the womb perhaps? Far fetched). Nearly all of the rooms have podiums (new word for the day P-O-D-I-U-M. What is it? It's a podium!). Very professional. There are also large curved windows looking from the hall into the classrooms and (to every teacher's dismay) visa-versa. Meaning those space cadets we were struggling to keep focused before, now have a new distraction to attract their scattered brains.

The classroom names have been changed from states to universities (plus a few cities). Johns Hopkins made the list, London, Dartmouth.

The kids like it. We like it. We had kinda expected this whole move to be a scam. Dragging us to a new water hole, where the fish were more plentiful, but the water smelled just as bad, and the worm was just as dead. The water looks fresh after all (not that everything is perfect. We're missing a few podiums, the teachers' room is smaller, and the computers don't quite fit on our desks (but hey, we're all getting computers, so how can I complain?)).

* * *

Weird thing happened tonight.

We decided to go to Ariana tonight after work. Here some music, relax for a little bit. Everyone was Korean except a few misplaced balding, mustachioed white men. I thought it would be a good opportunity to sketch some Koreans in my sketchbook (something I've been longing to do for some time). Shortly after I sketch a couple young men sitting at the table across, a fairly intoxicated woman dressed in a matching teal track suit comes up to me and begins to speak directly into my ear. I haven't a clue what she is saying because she is speaking in Korean. I smile and shake my head. No Korean. But she's persistent. Maybe she wants me to draw her. I motion to my sketch book, but she seems uninterested. Eventually she gives up and returns to her table a short distance away.

Occasionally I see her motion to me. Does she want me to go over there? I hesitate. When I stand she motions me away. I'm very confused. I continue sketching.

She returns, still trying to communicate something to me. She says the same words, words that escape me now. I smile foolishly and shake me head. She fumbles with some English words. I think she may have called me a beautiful man. Katrina is convinced that she simply wants to have my babies. I don't know if that is the complete story. But the woman is evidently more drunk this time.

One final time, later in the evening, she walks past and touches my shoulder motioning for me to follow. David, Mark, and Katrina all vote that I follow. David says, "if it gets awkward light this cigarette and we'll come rescue you." So I walk over to the table, where the track suit woman is sitting with two other women. But as I approach she turns away. The other women seem a little confused. They motion me away. I shrug and return to our table.

David: What just happened?

Me: I have no idea.