The Third Blog From Korea

I intended on blogging with more frequency than I have been, but if any of my readers have been following my Facebook, they know quite well by this point that I have an absolutely brutal job. The lack of time and lack of Internet access at home make for a very bad combination when it comes to blogging. I was just beginning my plane ride to Korea in my last blog, but that seems like an eternity ago, and most of those memories have faded. The memories have faded quicker than usual, as I have been on a rollercoaster ride from hell. I feel like a bi-polar teenage girl, who is on her period. I was hoping to keep my blog neat and organized, but at this point, that seems like a futile task. I will try my best to catch up and keep up, but I can’t promise anything.
I believe I when I last left my blog, I was just hopping into a plane at the international airport in Minneapolis. Saying goodbye to my friends and family was one of the toughest things I had to do in a while. I got through all the security scans and to my gate with plenty of time to spare. In fact, too much time to spare. The flight to Chicago wasn’t bad at all and seemed pretty quick as the adrenaline was still filtering out of my system. I didn’t have any time to spare in Chicago. I was headed to San Francisco right away. My plane got the San Francisco 30 minutes early, and I had a 2 hour lay-over. Lucky for me, I needed that time to regroup, finally eat something, and get some music onto my iPod for the long flight. I also gave my family a short call, and it was very short because payphones are a bitch. I was hoping to relax, watch a couple of movies, and listen to a bunch of music on my flight to Korea, but there was an old Korean man sitting next to me that insisted on having lengthy conversations. Conversations are a great way to pass the time, and normally I would be all for it, but not this time as my Korean is very limited, and the old man’s English was very limited. There must’ve be a cultural gap because I had my headphones in, but the man continued to tap my shoulder and would spark a new conversation every 10 minutes. If I knew how to say, “shut the fuck up old man,” in Korean, that would have been the time to use that phrase. I watched a total of 0 movies without interruption, I listened to a total of 0 albums without interruption, and had 2 naps interrupted. The moral of this story is that Koreans are fucking dumb.
I landed in Incheon and I wanted to shoot my brains out. Airplanes are so goddamn cramped. It took forever to get through immigration, but finding my bags and customs were a breeze. One of the workers actually told me to lie on my customs card when I asked him, as it would speed up the process. That’s Korea for you. I got out into the lobby, and searched for my recruiter, but no one was there waiting for me. That was understandable as my plane landed a bit early. I waited in the lobby for about 30 minutes. My stomach began to warn me that my meeting with the toilet would begin soon, and that I should get prepared. As I started my way towards the bathroom, a woman with a sign runs into the lobby. The name on the sign read, “Min Woo Kim,” but for some odd reason I thought that could be me. I don’t know why I thought it was. The odds there was another Min Woo Kim in that lobby were probably very high. Koreans have about 3 names total. Lee, Kim, or Bak. However, that lady walked right toward me and it turned out to be my recruiter. I still needed to go to the bathroom, but she had a lot to say. I calmly stopped her when I started sweating, and told her I needed to make a run to the bathroom. I paid for a bus ticket (thanks for taking care of me Korean people), and made my way toward Jeonju. My recruiter told me that she would contact my director, and let her know that I was on my way to Jeonju and that she should expect my arrival in a few hours. I had been awake for almost 48 hours, and I kept falling asleep in the bus. I tried my best to stay awake, because I didn’t want to miss my stop and have to explain my situation to a bunch of Koreans. I got to Jeonju, and I waited outside for my director to pick me up. I helped a couple of white people get to their school via taxi because they knew zero Korean. I felt bad for them, because their school expected them to find their own way to the school. That’s Korean people for you. I waited outside for about 30 minutes, and no one came. It was the middle of the night, and I was half frozen so I desperately looked for a phone. I called my director from a payphone, and ran out of time in the middle of my call. I waved for the next taxi, and hoped that maybe the driver knew where JLS English Academy was. He didn’t, but he was kind enough to ask for my director’s phone number and called her for me. I eventually got to the school, and I was ready for bed. However, they wanted to hold an interview so I my sleep would have to be put on hold. They then told me that my apartment was not set up yet, so they would put me into a motel. I got dropped off at the motel at 2am, and my director told me to get to school the next day at 10am. That would be 6 hours of sleep, after a 16 hour plane ride, and after zero sleep for the last 48 hours. They could’ve at least had the courtesy of picking me up at the right time. Of course I got there at 9:45am the next day, and the entire room seemed as if it were spinning. I had never felt such a sensation. The moral of this story is that Koreans are always late, Koreans don’t give a shit about how you feel, and that Koreans are mother fucking ass-holes.