How being in Korea has made me miss Moscow

While some things were expected, missing the metro, it's efficiency, the ease of transportation as well as extremely affordable cost, there are some things I didn't expect to miss about Moscow. Number one being the weather. While I like winter, it often seemed to drag on and on, but now that fall and the leaves changing still hasn't even close to hit Ulsan, I'm starting to realize that I miss putting on layer upon layer and walking out into the brisk Moscow air, pollution or no.

Of course, I miss students. I miss the level of proficiency and how many of my teens had already adjusted to me and my teaching style. A new school, let alone a new culture and country would have been a bit difficult. While I really can't compare too much because I taught mainly teens and adults in Russia and in Korea I teach children and teens, if I dare make the comparison, Russians seem more adventuresome. More willing to make fools of themselves. Of course, there were occasional classes of shy students. Students who were scared to make mistakes, and perhaps it's the classroom set up or the different sense of humor or the different levels, but Koreans on the whole seem shier. They are not as willing to just pull me aside and ask a hundred questions about where I'm from or why I'm here. They just accept that I'm a foreigner, move on, and leave it at that.

While Koreans on the whole seem friendlier, I think Russians on the whole were more interested in getting to know me, establishing a friendship or comradery, while in Korea, because of the culture and the hierarchy, I assume, many students put a distance between teacher and student. I would like to break this down, but it seems as soon as I think I'm establishing a friendship, where I can rely on the student to back me up in class because we are "friendly" they turn. Peer pressure or shyness or culture or something takes over, and they revert back to refusing to speak English and refusing to work with other students. While Russians may not have liked it, they nearly always followed directions. They put an effort into the mingle activities I organized, were willing to make fools of themselves and so was I, but Koreans sometimes won't even give it a try, which in turn makes me more reserved at times. They are used to being allowed to "opt out" perhaps ... whatever the case, it makes things frustrating because as soon as one student "opts out" the rest of the group feels uncomfortable.

I need to just have a talk with them. When speaking a new language, you are going to feel like a fool at times ...

How to meet strangers in a strange land

The first Friday night in Ulsan, I had a choice.

A) I could stay in and start a routine of possibly not meeting people who may eventually become friends because of my theory. That theory is this: I would like to hang out with people like myself, but I have no idea how I would go about trying to meet myself.

Or B) I could go out to the foreigner bars alone in the hopes of meeting people and even if I didn’t make the best of friends, at least be social and adventuresome.

After a small debate I decided on B. The pros far outweighed the cons. I knew what bars I should hit up. I knew how to get there. I wanted to go out, just not alone, and I’m independent, awesome, gorgeous … Oh, sorry, that last part was purely self-motivational talk. It takes a lot of self-motivational talk to decide you are going to go meet new people in a strange land where you don’t know the language of the majority of the people, and you don’t really know a soul ... AND you aren’t on vacation but rather trying to start your life in this land, so you don't have that much anonymity.

After all this talk, I got myself on the bus, ready to meet the world, got downtown and wandered around trying to decide which bar I should try out. But when I finally landed at the first bar, my nerves began to kick in …

"How the hell am I supposed to meet people? This was a stupid idea. Maybe I'll just have a drink and go home."

Ok, so I’ve traveled to several countries alone. You think I should be tough. This should be no problem. A breeze. Heck, I’ve introduced myself to a bunch of new people before. But there’s a catch, on the inside, I am still the same, shy, socially awkward Kim that used to hide behind her mother when relatives visited. I’m still the girl that used to cry before my school pictures because I couldn’t stand the spotlight and pressure of meeting an absolute stranger, that’s admittedly kind of creepy, and having to smile on command …

Anyway, my nerves kicked in, so being an adult, I did the adult thing. I sat down at the bar by myself and ordered up a Black Russian. I'll give myself some liquid courage and a time limit. If I don't meet anyone by the time I need a second drink, I'll call it a night.

As I sat at the bar, drinking my Black Russian, I started to feel a little strange. For starters, this bar seemed basically empty. On a Friday night. True, there were a few people. To my right a couple foreign men about 40 or 50 years old having a beer and chatting away. To my left an older Korean man had just sat down and seemed to be boring holes through me with his eyes. I really have no idea if that’s what he was doing. I did everything I could to keep my body language from suggesting that he come talk to me. So, I didn’t look at him once. Basically, I came to the conclusion that somehow I had gotten a crumby tip. This wasn’t a good bar for foreigners, at least not ones my age, and there were no girls, which is actually who I wanted to meet.

Finally, I noticed a group of four younger guys walk in the bar and up the stairs behind me. No one really looked my way, so I couldn’t just follow them. That would have been creepy and weird, making me even more socially awkward, but deep down that’s really, really what I wanted to do.

Run after them.

Despite my urge, I continued to sit downstairs at the bar, being shy in a very unshy way. By which I mean, I had gotten myself out to the bar on a Friday night, which is not shy, but I wasn’t sure I could follow through with actually meeting people, which is definitely shy. I knew that in order to meet people I needed to be approachable, and in order to be approachable, I needed to wear a smile and keep my inner cool, but because of the situation around me … awkward 40-50 year old, trolling men, I couldn’t let myself be approachable. It would have been asking for something I really didn’t want. I’m sure this inner debate was showing on my face because after about five more minutes, the bar tended came to talk to me. She had sensed my painfully obvious discomfort. Very politely, she said, “There’s another bar upstairs. With younger people. Maybe you want to go up there?”

On her suggestion, perhaps too hastily, I took my drink and walked up stairs.

“What’s the game plan?” I asked myself.

I had no idea.

So I took the stairs slowly.

When I saw the bar, I walked up to it and set my drink down. I was about to sit on a stool and cling to it like a life preserver, but instead, I looked around. There were several groups of younger people, and I made eye contact with the first foreigner who looked at me.

“Jump in, Kim!”

Like getting into cold water, meeting new people is way easier if you jump quickly, without over thinking it. In fact, without thinking at all. So, I grabbed my drink, which I had sat down on the bar for 2 seconds, walked over and said hello.

My self introduction started a series of introductions, which lead to a series of questions verging on conversation but interrupted by the game of darts that these for guys were playing. And yes, they are the same four guys I had seen walk into the bar not ten minutes prior. Basically, the conversations when something like this.

Guy 1, “What’s your name, again?”

Me, “Kim, what’s yours?”

“Where are you from?”

blah, blah

“What are you doing in Ulsan?”

“Teaching English, before this I was in Moscow for two years.”

It’s Guy 1’s turn at darts, and Guy 2 strikes up conversation, “What’s your name, again?”

Me, “Kim, what’s yours?”

“Where are you from?”

… blah blah I was in Moscow for two years.

Guy 2 is up at darts and Guy 3 starts in. At this point Guy 1 and 2 are having their own conversation as they are hanging out. Basically, I’ve interrupted guys’ night.

Guy 3 is up at darts and Guy 4 starts the conversation over.

I ended up having 3 or 4 conversations and repeating myself a lot. After the game ended, we regrouped, grabbed another drink, and eventually headed over to another bar where one of the guys was meeting up with friends. Surprisingly this has been the smoothest, least awkward introduction to date.

Two thumbs up for embracing social awkwardness and kicking shyness to the curb.

When the expected becomes unexpected

To get to the bamboo forest, you cross a gorgeous piece of architecture. It builds expectations and transports you from city to green space. From views of apartment buildings, high rises and skyscrapers, to views of greenery, river, jumping fish, and lush, rolling hills.

Yet, not knowing where exactly we were going, we ended up being deceived by what will be the future of the forest. A small row of bamboo, which hides the expansion of the forest and creates a mirage that pulled us toward it and away from the actual forest. Disappointed, we wondered if that was all there was. A small, misleading row.

This can’t be the forest.

Then, I saw it.

If we had only looked to the left instead of right, we would have been at the forest.

After being deceived by a mirage and feeling a small plateau of disappointment, the serenity around the actual forest was amplified. Not only was there calm, but relief.

Disappointment assuaged.

When we got to the edge of the bamboo forest, I stopped talking at a regular volume and started whispering. Tall green space creates an enchanting, serene mood and wards off the hustle and bustle of the city that surrounds it. A welcome break from everyday life in the city, the smell changes from one of car exhaust and warm pavement to fresh, damp soil and greenery. Each time I find a green space like this in a city, I am blown away by the different atmosphere and calm surrounding it. Rather than worrying about what I have to do next, which bus I need to take, which class I need to teach, where I can find that perfect thingamajig, I am soothed, relaxed and reenergized. The feeling is magnificent, and I’m glad Ulsan saw the need to reforest this particular area.

Onggi is pottery in Korean

Thanks to Joo for all the photos.

Before I came to Ulsan, almost right after I was offered the job, maybe even before, I discovered the Onggi Festival which takes place near Ulsan every year around this time. I was excited to go, made plans, and got over to the pottery village today. While I had tried to do a little research beforehand, I really had no idea what to expect. I knew onggi was traditional Korean pottery, mainly used for storing food. I knew there would be a bunch of international artists, and I knew I wanted to buy some pottery. What I didn’t realize was how huge the compound would be, and I had forgotten how much I enjoy art processes and craft.

When Joo and I arrived at the pottery village, we were both overwhelmed with its size. While the festival only takes place for one month out of the year, the compound is set up like a theme park, only for art. It’s amazing. Outside the gate are pottery shops, food stands, a school, kilns and a museum. Inside was a food court, several different galleries showcasing different pottery, interactive studios, demonstrative studios, exhibits on the process of making onggi, and even exhibits on the uses of onggi, including an area for making kimchee which is kept in onggi.

Going with someone who knew little about pottery allowed me to explain a lot of what was going on and take a second look at things about pottery that I had taken for granted – like that clay is cut off the lump with a wire. Of course I also learned a bit about the processes of pottery in Korea.

The clay is kneaded by foot and with a stick

Pottery is an ancient craft and the festival celebrated Korea’s use of onggi as a utilitarian, food storage vessel. Each step of the process was shown either by visiting artists, interactive activities, or through photos with details.

Adding clay

I had never seen someone make a very large pot, and the process of construction varies from that of smaller objects. Rather than trying to center a lump of clay that is same size as the artist and then pull it up into a shape, the clay is rolled out into slabs that are then added bit by bit onto the pot.

Shaping

The potters used paddles like this one to shape the clay after attaching it to the body of the vessel.

Kiln

I’m still not sure how they move these large pots or how they load and unload them from the kilns, but the process of firing a kiln like this seems incredible.

Finished onggi - It's huge!

While there was so much to see that I didn't do any of the hands on, interactive activities, I enjoyed the entire experience. My love of craft and art processes was rekindled, further encouraging me to find a pottery class in a country that takes great pride in this ancient craft and the traditions that have been passed down from potter to potter for generations.

The importance of ambiance

Many of the pottery shops at the Oegosan Pottery Village were selling mass produced, possibly machined pottery, but I wanted something unique. Something that looked like it was made by a person and felt like it too. Luckily there was one shop that was this way. Before going into the shop, I noticed the pottery on the outside. Unlike the other shops, it did not have rows and rows of onggi, rather it had a small stack of large pots and walking up to it was like stepping down into another land. Not one made for Korean and foreign tourists, but one made for a potter who loves their work. There were even some old pots on the roof which added to this feeling.

To the right of the shop was the studio and inside sat work benches that had seen good use. The only “clean” spot being where the artist sat. The smell of the studio, wet clay, reminded me of my pottery classes and all other associated memories. I was transported, to an international land of craft and artistry.

Stepping back into the sunlight and looking through the windows of the shop, I was excited. This is what I was looking for. A small shop, with a small quantity of pottery on display: tea cups and bowls, some flower pots and cups. Each piece had the artist’s stamp on the bottom and the sizes and shapes were as they should be. A little irregular, not perfect, with slight variations in glazes and coloring. Just enough create a dilemma with decisions. The only thing that would have made it better would have been to get to hear the artists talk about their work, but sometimes I don't know what questions to ask and of course the language barrier makes it difficult.

The dilemma

After looking around the shop with an eye for detail, touching things, mulling things over and finding a bowl I was in love with, I decided I would still check out the other shops before buying. My philosophy is, “If it’s meant to be, it will be.” I walked out of the shop, with my heart strings being pulled toward that bowl and those tea cups, and checked out the other shops. No others were like this one. None had quite the same ambiance, and there were fewer shops and studios than I originally thought. So, after a bit I returned with a budget in my mind. The shop lady recognized me, grabbed her calculator and showed me the prices. Then I went over to the bowls, the one I wanted was still there, and I looked through the others more thoroughly. After my purchase, I was satisfied. I had accomplished what I wanted for the day.