Korea Stories – Part One

Greetings Comrades, an age of the earth has passed since I last wrote any form of blog and therefore I decided to do something before the year is done.

Given that my last post was about my arrival into South Korea at the tender age of 22 to teach English. I decided that it would be amiss of me not to continue with that story. The issue, is that I am now old, and 15 years have come to pass since that adventure, so rather than just reel off another blog, I have decided just to write some short stories about some of the bizarre things that happened to me whilst I was there.

This first tale reflects on my ability to get into some of the most random situations because I struggle to say no to people. I was finding it difficult to adapt to the cultural differences and an example of the above came during one of my first meals with native Korean teachers which nearly ended in disaster. Mere words can’t describe my hated of cooked cabbage and it seems that most Korean dishes contain cabbage of some form. Cabbage even being in the vicinity of my aura makes me feel sick because of the horrific smell of rotten feet.

This isn’t actually the story I was going to write about, but after arriving into Gangneung in the far north of South Korea, my co-teacher took me to the school I would be working at to meet a couple of the other Korean speaking English teachers and to have a look around before term officially started.

Immediately on entering the building, I was treated like some form of celebrity and the female teachers were practically fainting in front of me and kept telling me how handsome I was. This may seem far fetched and slightly arrogant to some folk even though it’s true, but that’s one of the first aspects of Korean culture I had to get used too. They were very direct when it came to things like that. A lot of teachers, students or people I met in the street would tell me I was handsome, but they would also comment on my big nose and tell me I looked tired or needed to eat more because I was too thin.

It was also an aspect of my life in Gangneung. It was located in the Gangwon-Do province which was very rural and remote, and not many foreign teachers ventured that far north. I was treated like Clint Eastwood. I couldn’t go anywhere without people shouting things at me or wanting photos.

After having a tour of the school, which basically looked like a prison from communist Russia, the other teachers and I went into the town for some food. On entering the premises, I could already sense cabbage and looked warily around trying to find the source of the smell.

In Korea it’s generally not a chair and table situation and you more often than not will sit on the floor around a circular table with your legs crossed. I was only 22 years old but I found this incredibly uncomfortable due to my lack of flexibility. I had not sat like this since assembly in primary school. I had to just accept the pain because I didn’t want to cause offence.

After we had all sat down on the floor, my co teacher shouted and waved at the waitress telling her to come over. Again this was perfectly normal in Korea, but my British ways struggled to compute what was happening. I have literally sat in restaurants for over an hour without getting served because I felt too awkward shouting at someone.

The waitress then came back and set down some water, numerous side dishes that I had never seen before and a suspicious looking green bottle which I found out later was called Soju, a Korean spirit which was responsible for my first ever three day hangover.

In Korea it isn’t polite to pour yourself a drink and basically you are responsible for the person to your left. I sat there with no idea what to do and was looking around other tables to see what was happening. Eventually, a teacher made a move and began the chain of drink pouring. The teacher to my right not only poured me water, but also a shot glass full of Soju and I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to do the same so just went for it and poured Soju for my Co teacher, Mrs Cheong.

At this time, almost 15 years ago, it became apparent that women weren’t supposed to drink Soju in public and, if they did have a glass they would be expected to basically pretend to drink it and then pour it out into a decorative plant pot. As a male, I had no choice and had to down it.

The taste was absolutely horrific and I felt it burn my throat and basically destroy what remained of my liver. The moment I emptied one glass, the teacher next to me would then fill it up again and order another bottle. This was the night before my first day and I was literally knocking back vodkas to be polite.

After about ten minutes of waiting the waitress set down a huge cauldron of some form of aromatic stew containing chicken and vegetables. It looked quite appetising, but within the depths there was a lurking presence of pure evil in cabbage form.

My co teacher took a little bowl and began adding the stew along with some sticky rice and then all the other teachers began eating whilst having animated conversation. Apparently, it is another aspect of Korean culture to show enjoyment of the meal, by making certain sounds like slurping, or filling your mouth with a lot of food. This an actual fact, and it is not me being negative because I found the Korean culture absolutely fascinating and it’s basically the reason why I travel. At this point though I had never been anywhere outside of Europe and I was conditioned in a completely different way. For this reason, I was quite taken aback when I had to dodge bits of food like Neo from the Matrix.

I picked the bowl up tentatively and spotted cabbage. The teachers surrounding the table, looked expectantly at me and because I basically couldn’t say no without causing offence I tried the stew and just hoped that the cabbage flavour wouldn’t come through, almost like onions in a spag bol.

Pretty much instantly it was evident that this wasn’t the case. The pungent, abhorrent taste of rotten feet, unemptied bins and just pure cabbagey filth came burning through my very soul. Cabbage must literally hate me because there is no way I should be able to taste it so purely when it is in a stew. I immediately began to gag, tears came to my eyes, my face went red and I tried to force it down hoping nobody would notice. Unfortunately everyone noticed and when I say everyone I mean the entire restaurant. They all stared at me as I retched and faced the possibility of death by cabbage.

After a few glasses of water, which I had to wait for as I couldn’t pour them myself, I eventually began to recover. My co teacher asked me what the problem was, I think she thought I was choking, but as a quick thinking individual brought up on the streets of Seaham, I invented a lie and told her I was allergic to cabbage.

To my amazement everyone believed me and for the rest of my time there my co teacher became my personal cabbage inspector and would inform me of what things I needed to avoid. It left me with very little choice when it came to school dinners, but I managed to survive Korea cabbage free and actually enjoyed some of my best ever culinary experiences. Korean food was absolutely divine.

This actually wasn’t the story I was going to write, but there you go. Look out for part 2 in about fifteen years when I get the motivation to do it again.