Saturday, December 4, 2010

The Commute - Continued

My teacher asked me last week to write a small article for the local Ganghwa Herald Newspaper about my experience in Korea. "Just write something, Alber-Te" she said. This was what I wrote:

Commuting to the Outskirts

I never thought I’d find myself to be an English teacher somewhere on an island in the Yellow Sea, let alone so near unpredictable North Korea who decided to shell Yeonpyeong island last week. At first I thought I’d be in some city with tall buildings and coffee shops. Then I received a phone call one early morning back in South Africa where they wanted to know if I could fill an English position on an island, ASAP. I took the post without hesitation and landed 2 weeks later in a dull late winter South Korea.

It’s certainly not your average English teachers experience when you tell them that you commute to school with a ferry everyday where you teach English to only a handful of students - a school the size of some of the classes in the city.

What adds to this authentic experience of working in rural Korea at a small school is surely the commute there and back.

Mornings I wake up after snoozing my alarm for about twenty minutes. Time is limited and I rush to catch the 07:20 bus – miss this bus and you need to take an expensive cab ride. I therefore, to the dislike of most Koreans, j-walk almost every morning to catch the bus in time. I jump on the bus as we take the bumpy road to Oepori where we skip all the red lights on the way (similar to my j-walk skills). The completion of the new road to Oepori is taking forever and might only be completed by the time they build a bridge to Seokmodo Island

Oepori is the port where I board the short 15 minute ferry for Seokpori. On the ferry it’s a nod of the head to all the familiar faces as I take my seat and prepare my breakfast. Every morning the same: yogurt and muesli.
On Seokpori’s side I wait for one of the teachers to pick me up. Half the cars all look the same, so I’ve started to memorize the cars registration numbers. A squeezed ride and I make it to school as I drop my hat in my bag, take off my shoes and prepare for another day on the outskirts.

The two schools I work at (Samsan and Heumyeong Elementary) are both extremely small with bright enthusiastic students. I have the opportunity to know and interact with each student as I teach them the English language. It’s truly an authentic experience to be based in a rural part of Korea and yet you’re so close to the city.
Getting home in the afternoon is a different ball game. Most days it’s easy, but there are those days when there is no lift and others where I have to run for the ferry. When I say run, I really mean run. It’s happened that the ferry has stopped for me before, but I don’t want to miss this ferry as it will result in me missing the bus and arriving home real late. Other days I go stand next to the road and throw my thumb out. It’s a small island with only one road that goes around and I have to rely on my hitch-hiking skills for strangers to take me to Seokpori.
At Seokpori I first have to buy my ticket from the grumpy bouncer-like lady who never smiles. My Korean vocabulary is very limited, nonexistent at times, but I try my best to put a smile on this ladies face by saying Anyeong hasaeyo and kamsahamnida in many different ways, smiles and tones.

Then it’s back on the ferry and on the bus. The bus leaves at 17:00 sharp (my watch is set on the bus time) and the ferry docks around 16:55, which results in yet another sprint and side stepping shrimp barrels to make it in time. On the bus I try to take the back window seat as this is the least likely seat to handover to and elder.


Since my time working on Seokmodo Island I’ve been held up at Oepori due to a typhoon or because of thick fog. I’ve missed the ferry several times by only a few seconds and I’ve also made it with seconds to spare. I’ve ran my heart out for the ferry and busses. I’ve made meaningless conversations in imaginary Korean as a hitch-hiker in a foreign country and I’ve still not been able to put a smile on the ticket-lady’s face.

In the city and elsewhere people sit in traffic for hours. My commute takes me an hour each way daily, though I would never want to trade it for sitting in the traffic. It’s an awkward, thrilling commute that adds to my experience on the island. Waking up late is not ideal, but there’s a part of me that loves the rush. The winter is now approaching and the commute will now become a different experience.