Drinking makgeolli, meeting popstars... a day in the life....

The entrance to the festival

On Saturday we were invited to the Paju Flower Festival in nearby Paju Book City, a village of super-modern eco buildings, similar to Heyri Art Village, but with bookstores and publishers. Preparations have been going on for the Festival for the past 6 weeks, and when our bus drew up to the Village, the green hills that we usually see from the windows of the bus to Seoul drew gasps of admiration - they were blanketed with splashes of yellow, orange, red, blue, white... The gardeners had been hard at work.

There were 7 of us representing English Village, plus a few Korean administrators, and we all donned flags from various countries - I was given the Union Jack, which I at least have a connection to - Cait got Australia! Then we gathered behind the EV flag, borne aloft by one of our cartoon mascots (a poor Korean part-timer squeezed into a large-headed and very hot furry costume), and followed the brass band in front of us down the street. We were cheered on by people sitting under canvas tents along the sidewalk - mostly dignitaries in suits - as we waved our hands regally, and gave the peace sign to cameras and film crews. The route was short - we walked for around 10 minutes - then we were able to stand on the sidewalk and cheer on the other groups taking part. One attraction was the float carrying three gorgeous girls playing strings.

Schoolgirl floats

They were more than matched in attire, if not in talent, by the girls wandering around in teeny ladybird outfits and knee-high stiletto boots. The sexualisation of innocent storytime creatures... I read a great piece recently on Korean women and their strong need to be beautiful - "Korean Psychiatrists Discover Shocking New Mental Disorder" - which would have been funnier had it not been so true to life, I thought it was a real report for the first few paragraphs... One of the pop songs at the moment has a girl telling her boyfriend "I don't want you to tell me you like me because I'm nice... let's be honest... you like my legs... you like my butt..." and is, unfortunately, not ironic, as a Western equivalent might be.

After the parade was over, we were taken out for lunch. We chose a bibimbap stall where we sat down with our CEO. First up was the makgeolli - a milky rice wine. Tasted a little like a sour apple juice - mmm! Makgeolli is traditionally served with pajeon - traditional pancakes, stuffed with various fillings - a little like the Korean version of a pizza. Ours came with seafood - although I wasn't a huge fan of the tiny suckered legs poking out from some slices, I knew I loved pajeon from previous encounters, so just became very selective when choosing my slices!

However, lunch is never just lunch for us in Korea. Soon, our CEO, who had gone off to a nearby table in the VIP section, came back with a small unassuming gentleman: the mayor of Paju, wanting to buy us a few bowls of makgeolli. We were, of course, obliging. He was very sweet and welcoming and told us we were good for his province. Then, from the table next to us, a pretty young girl got up and came over to talk to Rick (our Korean administrator). He translated for us: she was a popstar, and she wanted us to pose for a picture with her. Now, to my mind, this was slightly topsy turvy to the way we would have done it in the west, but never mind. To the gasps of a group of boys who'd noticed her in the dark tent, we posed for a few photos with Bae Seul-gi - she of the "don't say you like me for my personality" video.

Strange times! We laugh in the teachers' room that it's going to be tough readjusting when we leave Korea - we're going to cry at strangers "But why don't you love me? Don't I have a small face? Adore me! Adore me!"

The Ballerina And The Breakdancer

Last week we got an e-mail.

"GEV is planning on inviting EV teachers to the show " Ballerina who loves B-boy". As you heard, it is a world wide famous show. "

Well... world-famous might be pushing it a little, but it did get good reviews at the Edinburgh Fringe, so we signed up for the trip. A play about a ballerina who falls in love with a breakdancer, called, amazingly, Ballerina Who Loves B-Boy, sounded interesting if only for the dancing we might expect.

We made our way by public bus - the bus driver looking mildly terrified by the 70 waegookin making for his bus; the three other passengers merely bemused by the overflowing state of their usually empty ride home. My Science coteachers and I paused for dinner at a Japanese noodle restaurant near the theatre where the table was filled with beautiful, deep ceramic bowls brimming with thick white noodles and veggies.








We reached the theatre by 8. An entire section of the small space had been reserved for the foreigners, stopping the MC in his tracks as he realised a third of his audience wasn't laughing on time, but were turning to their Korean coteachers for translations first (although our friends were too busy messing about with our photos to be translating for us...) He got into the spirit though, testing out his English on us and laughing with glee when our American head teacher spoke back in Korean. Right from the start it was clear that the audeince were working members of the cast. Kids behind us chattered away, while adults clapped, cheered, and responded to winks and goads by the dancers.

The energy of the hip-hop dancers with their wild music, heavy beats and elastic moves contrasted with the slightly lacklustre ballet scenes so that by the time the heroine cast off her tutu to join the skimpily dressed breakdancing groupies it was an unsurprising choice - and not as irritating as the classic Grease makeover... The dancers leapt and spun and rolled in the air as if on strings. It was absolutely amazing - and even better for each move, each death-defying leap, being met by gasps, cheers and applause from the audience. A review of the show at the Edinburgh Fringe lamented the dour Scots' refusal to rise to the dancers' exhortations to clap along - no such problems here!

We were quickly drawn in by the dancers, who are members of an award-winning breakdance group. The lead dancer, the B-Boy of the title, was particularly eye-catching, his arms bristling with energy, strength gleaming in every muscle, his shirt falling open... uh... I mean... Where was I? Oh yeah, leaning forward to better take in the view... ahem, I mean, the dancing! The dancing!

There was no talking at all, which suited all of us perfectly. The meaning of the play was conveyed by movement, dance and sometimes exaggerated gesture, and it took me 15 minutes to realise that it was silent - I had already understood so much, my brain assumed the actors were talking.

Afterwards, the cast all stood on the edges as the audience piled onto the stage brandishing cameras and programmes. Cait and I ummed and aahed until we finally joined the other EV teachers in a group photo with the cast. Very odd - somehow can't imagine it happening on Broadway - which is where this production was last put on.

When the autographing and photo opping had ended, and we'd been introduced to the producer and theatre owner, as befits the celebs we are, Cait, Leigh, Kori and I wandered out to find the nearest subway. Earlier that day, the streets of Seoul had been filled with a sea of weeping Koreans, gathered for the funeral of the ex-president Roh Moo-Hyun, who, in keeping with Korea's massive suicide rate, jumped off a cliff on Sunday. I'd seen the crowds on TV that afternoon, and there were several people worried that we wouldn't actually get into Seoul. Between the bus stop and the theatre, though, all we'd seen were hundreds of riot police, settling down in rows to eat their dinner off their riot shields. Now, as we walked down the street we saw crowds of people holding candles, signing posters tacked to the temple walls, or eating on picnic blankets with their families. When we emerged into the main square there was still a band playing, and the streets were packed wall-to-wall with mourners from babies to grandfathers, and more than the usual number of drunks curled up in doorways.






















The outpouring of grief has been somewhere near the level of Princess Diana's death in 1997. The most interesting thing about his death is the reaction of ordinary Koreans. Roh was accused of corruption, and there is a major ongoing investigation at the moment. Koreans are angry at the current government for pursuing the investigation and hounding Roh to his death. Nobody seems to care whether the charges are fair or not; they think that they should not have been made against a senior official, regardless of truth. It's wrapped up with the Korean sense of honour. An argument will always be avoided in Korean society, because it is unthinkable that it should reach a point where one will be forced to accede to the other, and thus lose face. Roh's honour was tarnished and he could do nothing but commit suicide...

Life in a theme park

Oh, the sweet joy of waking up in English Village! Not for us the intrusive sounds of angry traffic! Nor must we endure the twittering of birds in the hills surrounding our houses. For the powers that be, and oh how I thank them every day, have seen fit to install a speaker outside Jupiter Building, on a streetlight so that it's just at the level of my room. Through this speaker come such treasures!

This morning for instance, it was "If you're happy and you know it". Yesterday we had "I like doughnuts! I love doughnuts! They make me happy!" (we're apparently on a mission to turn kids from the healthy Asians they are into tubby Westerners...)

Anything, though, anything at all, is better than the theme song.

"Welcome to English Village.... I like speaking English..... it's greeeeaaaaat, it's fun, it's English Village!"

I told you in one of my first posts about losing half my class when they saw a celebrity wandering the streets of EV. Film crews, musicians and soap-stars are common here, the scenery as exotic to Koreans as the hanok villages are to us westerners. A few weeks ago, a music video was shot in the Village. I took the picture below from the teachers' room of the male singer with his backing dancers. Later, we emerged from our Friday closing ceremony with the kids to find the main route to the cafeteria blocked by the film crew, and our cries of "No running!" went completely ignored as 400 teenagers ran screaming for the barriers. My coteachers and I found ourselves physically holding students back as the two main singers tried to hide behind props! It was like being in an old Beatles video! Eventually, the female singer, her head hidden beneath a blanket, was rushed to a van with darkened windows and then we were able to start ushering the students to the cafeteria for their lunch. A surreal experience. I found out from one of the girls (almost fainting with excitement) that the female singer was one half of Davichi, a popular girlband.

The video is sweet, funny, and very typically Korean. You can watch it here: "If You Pretend" It's full of subtext and references and insider jokes for Korean teenagers. Right at the end, as the girl sinks onto his shoulder, he wonders "Who should I score next? Hyori?" - Hyori is a beautiful very famous actress-singer - the highest paid in Korea :)

My Shopping Spree

Cait and I went down to Seoul on Saturday for some long-awaited shopping - not frivolous stuff, I assure you, but a basic human need: cellphones. Yes, I am now connected to the world via a little white box with Korean symbols mysteriously written all over it. And wellies, which are a basic human need in Korea during summer.

So! We'd been up the night before with a bottle of wine and an amateurish curry made from a packet thieved from our boss during tea last week, and then in my case, even later watching The Holiday on TV. It wasn't too early a start, but the lack of sleep didn't help when we ventured out to the bus stop in pouring rain and thick mist. The bus finally came, 10 minutes late as usual (except when we're late, then it's 10 minutes early. Sometimes I think the bus driver just doesn't like foreigners and tries to make it as difficult as possible to catch his bus from our stop.) We headed to Yongsan first.

I wanted to share this photo with you which I took in the subway. Clearly afraid of a repeat of the subway attacks of 2003, Korean platforms are filled with emergency torches, radio contact with ground-level emergency services, and these cupboards containing gas masks and oxygen tanks. Worrying prepared, but quite soothing to know it's all there!

Yongsan is an amazing place, and I was so glad I'd already been there once with people who knew where to go. I was thus able to proudly lead Cait straight to the section we wanted to be in. This was over a bridge, down through the computer section, over a road and sideways into a covered alley where all the cellphone merchants of Korea were gathered. This is one of the weirdest things about commerce in Korea. Instead of spreading out, the Koreans gather all their shops into little enclaves. Everyone knows that if you want clothes you go to Dongdaemun. Electronics are Yongsan. Indian food is Itaewon. Trendy US style shops are in Myeongdong.

Even within Yongsan, each type of electronic product is gathered into certain areas. To buy a camera, you go to a particular floor, where you emerge from the door into an enormous area filled with stalls all selling exactly the same thing at prices within a couple of thousand Won of each other. Musical instruments are on another floor; computers get a building to themselves. The photo on the left is from when a friend and I went to buy our new cameras. You can see the stalls stretching into the distance... all selling the same camcorders and cameras and cases...



Our cellphone section was lined with little shops with dusty displays of the latest cellphones outside. I particularly loved the gold one you can see in the photo, but restrained myself as you could only buy that model brand new and I had to buy second-hand. Shame.

We were lucky enough to stumble onto a lovely man who smiled at us and told us he could only speak a little English, and then proceeded to guide us through the whole complicated process of registering my new phone in my name. In English. Oh, Korean reticence.

Korean phones work on a different system to the rest of the world, so you cannot use foreign phones here, even on Roaming - making for a healthy trade between foreigners. The cellphones don't have removable sim cards and are locked to the network that is connected to the phone manufacturer. You cannot unlock them or change them. I have an LG phone, therefore I am on the LG Telecom network. When I bought the phone the shop owner and I had to fill out a 3 page form which was then submitted by the shop owner to the phone company, then we waited for 30 minutes while they filed everything and registered the phone. And this was just for pay-as-you-go! The phone is now in my name and if it were to break or get lost, I can instantly transfer my number to a new one. Which I guess is cool. It just seems like a lot of effort just to have a simple, second-hand, pretty ugly phone!

Once I'd popped across the road to the Computer Peripherals Market, and bought a webcam (hooray!) and a gig stick for work (teeny tiny little thing that is going to get lost), we walked back over the walkway to the main building, and after just a little stop for Baskin Robbins ice cream (one thing the Americans have definitely gotten right), and a completely unsuccessful attempt to decode the subway station, we got in a taxi for Itaewon - otherwise known as Little America, and, oddly enough, close to Hooker Hill. There is an enormous US military base there and the streets are filled with soldiers and American tourists buying cheap Ralph Lauren and Hard Rock Cafe. Not my scene at all, but Cait expertly led the way through the wet and miserable streets to a side street and then into a lushly decorated Indian restaurant where we gorged on curries and naan bread and delicious dhal to our hearts' content.

Tea is a natural follow-up to a good lunch and so we headed to Insadong where, yes, all the tea sellers and tea shops of Seoul are gathered into one long street. The main street is currently being renovated and the buildings are very modern, but the side streets are something special - little hanok buildings line narrow alleys filled with green trees and trickling streams. It was still raining however, and so Cait and I simply ducked into a little cafe which defied the promise of its narrow glass doorway to stretch into a calm space with chunky wooden tables, lilies and trees, ending in a tiny courtyard which really should have been too small for the amount of garden squeezed in there. Cait was mostly preoccupied with fixing her phone's ringtones and settings - and then the lovely girl fixed mine too :) I think I might be getting too old to understand phones? :)


By now it was nearly 5pm, we had been in Seoul for six hours, and we were wet and tired, and my feet were cold. We decided to soldier on to Myeongdong where we hoped to buy wellies. We'd been half-heartedly looking for these for weeks, asking everyone we saw wearing them where we could find some (mostly America...) But now the rains were starting, and we were envisaging teaching classes for two months in wet takkies. The hunt was on.

Most stores laughed at us when we pointed to the little kids' froggie wellies (what's wrong with an adult wearing rubber shoes painted in rainbow colours? Huh?) Eventually, after climbing to the seventh floor of a clothes department store, we saw two Korean girls very stylishly flaunting their wellies (sorry, rain boots) and plucked up the courage to stop them. In flawless English, one gave us the directions to a store in the back streets of Myeongdong. I think the store assistants were a bit taken aback when two very wet foreign girls came rushing in, grabbing wellies from the window display and asking for Big Size Please? Thankfully they didn't bat an eyelid at our elephantine feet. Hurriedly buying socks from a street vendor, we retreated to a coffee shop and sneakily snuck our new boots on to our feet under cover of the table. No funny looks from the Koreans around us, but then, this is a nation where the girls will interrupt a conversation in public to check their faces in mirrors. Perhaps changing your shoes isn't such a big thing.

Once our frozen feet were safely ensconced in warm socks and boots, and our tummies full of caramel mocha latte, we were on our way to our bus stop in Hapjeong. Within 40 minutes our bus pulled up outside EV and we wandered off to bed.

And yes, it was still raining.

Welcome to the Asian summer ;)

My little home

I've been asked to show you around my little room, so here it is. It's a pretty standard room for foreign teachers, with an ensuite shower room and a kitchen along one wall. Small, but enough for me. I also have a balcony which adds on a metre, and I do just fine when people come over :)

So if you were to knock on my door - the last one of three on the second floor of the right wing of Jupiter Block - you'd open the door to my welcoming call and see the view in the photo on the left. Before the fridge is a built in double closet, not deep enough to hang a jacket straight. On the right is my bathroom. This part is just wide enough for me to stretch my arms out to the sides and brush the walls with my fingertips.

The light is horrible, because there's a fluorescent strip light directly overhead - but it's ok, because you can now move further in to where Dad's Kenyan kikoi is doing duty as a lightshade, improving the atmosphere enormously.

Walk down between my computer desk and bed to stand at the sliding door, and look back towards the entrance.









I hope your eyes were first drawn to the beautiful pink lotus lantern hanging from the ceiling, because it's one of the most valuable things in this room! :)

My TV is also pretty important for late night viewing. I seek out Korean chat shows; I try to guess why the big man is laughing hysterically at the pretty girl who's singing, while 15 people of various ages sit in tiers behind her nodding sagely and saying what appear to be deep and meaningful things, or otherwise laughing with the big man, and computer generated words ("BANG!" "CRASH!") fill any empty screen space. It's great fun. I wish they'd subtitle it. My other favourite is a soap drama set in early 20th century Korea - except that every now and then the main dandy turns up in a modern Porsche. Can't wait to learn some Korean...

























Now stand at the end of my bed. Casting your eyes to the left, you'll see my workdesk where all the important day-to-day lesson prep and student report card writing goes on. Yeah, no, not really. 'Cause my job's great.

My favourite part here is the photo wall, which is slowly building up. I'm just waiting for a care package from Robyn, which will contain sticky-stuff, which has not as yet been invented in Korea. No, really.

On the right hand side of the room is my lovely bed, which is perfect for me after years of futons - it's about the same hardness as one. Many complaints from my poor colleagues who have to sit out evening activities because of bad backs from their hard beds. Actually, hang on a moment... I think there may be something going on there... The bed is a fold-out item with shelves - sticky-stuff may be too futuristic, but IKEA has certainly taken Korea by storm. My book collection is growing, as you can see - and there's a horribly tempting new-and-second-hand English bookshop Cait and I will be going to on Saturday in the foreigner sector in Seoul, so I'm sure there'll be a couple to add to it by that evening.

And that's about it! It's slowly becoming home, especially with all the people dropping in every 5 minutes for a cup of coffee and some gossip!

Now, I'm just off to have a chat with a coteacher about the Limbo class he had to spend sitting on a chair earlier this evening...

My favourite students

Yes, unlike parents, most teachers will freely admit to having favourites in the classroom. I was so thrilled on Saturday when my colleague called me out from the Cafe I was working in to see three of my all-time favourites who had come back to EV to visit me!

Bearing in mind that, if you are working the 9-5 shift, and are lucky enough to have the same homeroom all week, you will have one class you see twice a day, plus eight other classes a week, each with 30 students in it; that's 270 students a week on average that you meet. Since these girls were in my class, I've had somewhere near 1650 students!

And I still remember their names - that's how great they were!

So here's a picture of Hwa Young, Hye Ryeong and Yoon Jae:

And here's to students who not only study hard and are good at what they do, but also have fantastic attitudes ;) because all you teachers out there know how rare they really are!

My Tea Ceremony

On Saturday, eeeearly, and for once this meant early (5am. Ouch!) four of the Village Attractions gathered at the back gate to catch a taxi to Seoul. We arrived too early at Hongik University Station (being the overly anxious people we are) so we went for coffee; despite being just 6:30am on a Saturday, the cafe was so full we had to sit outside. This time my travelling companions were Cait, Leigh, and Robyn - a lovely American edutainer. At 7:30 we climbed on a bus for the south-east of Korea with 76 other foreigners - yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have experienced my first organised tour. Run by a Korean man with excellent English, Adventure Korea lays on tours to festivals and hiking regions for young foreigners. We'd thought about sorting out the trip ourselves but the cost of the tour was more than reasonable, and transport much easier...

We were on our way to the Jiri-san National Park in Gyeongsangnam-do (Southern Gyeongsang Province), where we would hike to the summit of the third tallest mountain in Korea, and then on to the Hadong Tea Festival for a day of tea drinking and celebration.

Unfortunately, the weather gods had something different in mind for us and as we crossed Korea it got darker and darker until, about two hours from Mt Jiri, it started to pour. Our bus puttered up the steep winding road to the "base camp" in thick mist, and when we reached the top we emerged to sideways rain. Cait and I set off after Leigh and Robyn with the best of intentions, honest, but when I realised my jeans were drenched to my knees after ten minutes, and Cait's hoodie wasn't going to keep her dry, we looked at each other and abruptly turned back, abandoning our walking companions to their fates. So at the top of a lovely mountain range with views stretching miles, and hiking trails meandering through thick forest, and dirt paths leading to little temples, Cait and I joined fifty Koreans in the cafeteria and drank coffee from paper cups for two hours until our damp friends rejoined us for the precarious drive back to the valley...

We headed for a hotel 30 minutes away where brave Cait and Leigh stripped off and went to the jimjilbang - a hot spa. In Korea you go in absolutely naked, which is not something the three of us have had the courage for before. They wore bikinis, but had elderly ladies plucking with concern at the extra clothing and suggesting that it might not be good for the health to be wearing so much. Eventually the heat got too much and they came back to the room to join Robyn and I for dinner. We found a little restaurant nearby where the three of them had seafood soup and I had a lovely tofu soup with a couple of clamshells thrown in. Would have been better had it not been for the unpleasant Australian man who joined us and thought we'd appreciate his derogatory slang for Koreans and negativity towards the working conditions here. He also talked for around ten minutes on how much various other people had appreciated his "chip on the shoulder" joke (involving, yes, a potato chip, yes, on the shoulder) until Leigh, leaning across me to fill up her bowl from the soup pot, caught my eye and we both fell about in complete hysterics while Robyn bravely kept the conversation going with a man who'd ignored all her previous contributions to it. When he looked askance at Leigh and I, I managed to splutter that his chip joke had just bumped a funny bone; he, believing us, repeated it. Leigh and I were unable to talk for ten minutes.

The next day, after a comfortable night on the heated floor, we drove for 30 minutes to a school where 16 of us got out - the previous day we had all won in Rock Scissors Paper competitions - the favoured mode of decision amongst students and adults in Korea ;) - and were now to take part in a tea ceremony. Our bus drove off to deposit the rest of the group at the Festival. We entered the school, leaving our shoes at the door as usual, and were shown to a classroom separated from the corridor by frosted glass sliding doors. Inside, we met four Korean ladies amongst bookcases full of tea-making paraphernalia. I asked our Adventure Korea guide about the school; apparently it is a normal Middle School, but one which offers tea-making classes to its students - reflective of its position in the centre of Korea's main tea-growing region. I wish I could have been there on a regular schoolday, as I can imagine the vibe is very different to our manic schools! We were instructed to kneel down on a little cushion placed in front of a tray with the teaset arranged on it, and then we followed the instructress as she led us through the very complicated Korean tea ceremony. The speed at which you move, the height of the teapot as you pour, the process of warming the cups and pot, and even having the perfect amount of water in the pot to pour out the three little cups; all these are essential parts of tea etiquette. It took about 15 minutes to pour three cups, drink one, and then return all the pieces to their positions and drape a cloth over the tray. Bowing also plays a large part, and it's vital to hold your hands at just the right position, slightly below the belly button but not touching the body, during the entire ceremony.

I found it very relaxing - even with journalists hovering at my back and applauding every time I got something right (presumably, when I got something wrong it was just to be expected of a foreigner and therefore not worthy of mention). Also, the tea was divine! I kept wanting to drink one of my "guest's" cups, but that would have been grossly impolite. The tea set was beautiful with little tools for everything from resting the spoon to holding the teapot lid while you filled the pot.

After the rehearsals we were dressed up like dolls in "hanbok", the traditional clothing of Korea. Unfortunately, unlike dolls, we foreigners were neither short nor petite. Luckily I was one of the shortest and was given one of the longest hanboks - but some of the girls were showing their knees! It's not something I would wear every day - it definitely made me look even shorter than I am, and that's not an image I care to cultivate.

We were taken for a lovely Bibimbap lunch (that's the vegetables with a runny egg on top) where the usual table water jug was filled with cool green tea, and the street scene replaced with a quiet courtyard. The rural architecture was quite different to Paju's modern glass-fronted stores and restaurants - little wooden structures teetering on the edge of the river, or hideaway hanok-type homes where the family serves customers in the front rooms.

Then it was a brisk walk through the village to backstage where we were once again dressed in the hanbok. Up on the stage, men and women from the Tea Association were preparing tea-trays, and soon we were announced by the MC. We went on in groups of four, each with an assistant by our sides. The Korean audience members were ecstatic, and applauded every imperfect bow we made - probably trying not to scream with laughter at our clothing.

The tea ceremony competition was a tiny self-enclosed bubble for me - I remember bowing at the start and kneeling down, and from then on it was just me and my assistant, who muttered instructions to me as I fumbled my way through the tea-making. I was lucky enough to get a lady who spoke excellent English but I still picked up the wooden coaster with the teacup when I drank (tsk tsk), and I poured too fast (really, these foreigners). My friends were all in the audience, and Robyn managed to film part of the ceremony - you can see it at http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/video/video.php?v=72858141701&subj=793900351 if you want. I was so relieved when we finally bowed over our tea trays!

After the ceremony we had an hour or so to wander around the Festival site. Armed with strict instructions from my tea-fanatic colleague at EV, I tested several green teas at different little stalls (all kitted out with beautiful tea sets and smiley tea maestros) and finally bought a few bags and boxes of Hadong's finest to take back to Brian and his wife, as well as a couple for me. It was hard to resist the beautiful ceramics as well, but the tea sets are so unsuited to our way of tea-making, and I'm proud to say I talked myself out of it.

All too soon it was time to be herded back to the bus, with a quickie taken on the bridge by our lovely tour guide.


You can see a little in this photo of the lush green hills, thickly forested. Even in the more urban areas of the province, it was rare to see any kind of building on the hills - although the valleys between could be farmed or built-up to within an inch of them. So different to my province, where the rice fields are squeezed between high-rise apartment buildings, right up to the border with North Korea. What a pleasure to see a more laidback part of Korea It was also interesting to see that the only farmers around were women.

There followed a 7 hour bus journey back to Seoul, broken up by visits to roadside petrol stations - and these require a post all to themselves, they are so fascinating and different! Back to the English Village finally at 11pm, we all fell into bed - in my case, thankful that on Monday, I didn't have to get up till 11am. This month I am working 1pm to 9pm - a whole new kettle of fish - much less teaching, many more games and activities.

I'm leaving you with a photo from the day before our trek down to the southern reaches. Ross organised a braai for the members of our content area (Sciences). It was a lovely evening, and an unusual chance to spend some time with our Korean co-teachers outside the classroom. One of the highlights for me was discovering, as you can see in the picture, that yes, you can eat potato salad with chopsticks. Hooray!