Nothing to Write Home About.

So here we are.

Almost two full years since departing Ireland with a lump in the throat.

Nearly 24 whole months spent in a country that became home, as much in a negative as a positive sense..

Just shy of 105 weeks sampling soju, resisting Kimchi, reviling rice cakes and being mercilessly shoved, bustled, bumped into, blocked and pushed aside in Korean subway stations and streets.

So that's roughly 730 days that I'd love to tell you all were filled with adventure, wonder, exploration and good times but for the most part were filled with monotony, boredom, bewilderment, too much drinking, bitterness and complaining and not enough common sense.

It certainly didn't pan out as I had hoped or even as I had planned. But I guess things seldom do. It was certainly different and despite that rather spiteful introduction I've written, it wasn't all so bad. There was the 2011 Ulsan Cup victory as well as other Devils memories, two great holidays, Ken's visit, some cracking nights out and other simpler times that can be appreciated too.

I write this final blog post only after being informed by my (vastly more talented) brother via Twitter that I was 'Letting down my public'. I'm not sure how true that is or how much of a public even exists, but I promised him one final foray into the world of blogging before leaving it in the far more capable hands of a 'lithe dilettante' such as himself.

So, "why the absence of posts?" I hear no one ask. Truth of the matter is that as the title suggests, there really has been little to write home about. At the beginning all was new and everything seemed worth informing people of. As time passed by I felt I had little to say and little insight to offer into life in Korea, my last post being a pretty poor attempt at a humorous poem ridiculing the kind of person you're likely to meet teaching out here. It could have become a diary of my footballing exploits at one point but I thought better of it....it would have been a depressing and disappointing read. What little travel I did in Korea would usually just confirm my assumptions- the place, as a country is Monotone. Everywhere is the same and everywhere is quite boring. Sure, there are fun things to do, but why spend money doing em in Korea when I could save my money, travel and do them in beautiful countries?
And just as an aside, all that shit we heard of the Koreans being the nicest, most polite people in the world before we came here- bullshit. As a whole, arguably the rudest. Some of em are absolutely lovely. As a society, not so much...I don't know where that 'gentle, polite' crap comes from but its not true...crime is incredibly low though and you are able to just about completely drop your guard. Give me more crime and less arrogance any day though, I can take the odd mugging if the people aren't so blindly patriotic and full of themselves.

I jest of course ;) ( a little...)

So what I offer you here, in my final post are some stories that I have collected during my time in Kimchi Land which I hope you might find humorous. I've met a colourful array of characters here who have imparted a wide variety of tales to me and I'm sure to many others. So, for your pleasure, here are some of the stories I've deemed the most entertaining in my time here. A mere snapshot.

I guess I'll start off with my own then move to the good shit. This goes by the title of:

Careful Men, He Shits His Pants

One Thursday morning, after going all out Wednesday night with reckless abandon, I was left talking to God on the big white telephone. The previous nights exultations of 'fuck it sure, we'll be grand' and 'one more game of beer pong won't hurt' gradually gave way to drunken yet mildly concerned inquiries of 'what's the time now?' The following morning there was little love for life going on in Casa de Chingu (House of Friends- my apartment) as I grumbled and stumbled my way through a rushed morning routine. On the subway into work I turned to Ro and said "I think i'm gonna be sick mate." His reply came alarmed and wide-eyed, managing to just about drag his normally unfaltering gaze away from his iPad where he enjoyed whiling away the subway journeys (and a good chunk of his other free time) "killing Jews" as he put it,  "well don't do it on here!" I hadn't the energy to get off, run to the bathroom, get sick and come back to the subway so I said unconvincingly "I'll be fine." Ro looked unconvinced and shuffled cautiously away from me. Having heard my heavings on previous rough mornings, he knew very well of what sort of grimness a 'Roch Wretch' could produce. He occupied himself with the tasks of "collecting purple Goo and Killing Jews" (thats honestly his description of what he does on the iPad..some nerdy game or something...he also has one where he "pets dinosaurs"). I made it to school without vomiting anyway.

 I got to my desk, lay my head down and slept for the 20 minutes I had before class. I was rudely awoken by my co-teacher to teach 4 classes worth of hyper-active third graders. I groaned and lurched out of my seat. The way the class was set, I was teaching the first 20 minutes and my co-teacher the last 20. I managed to struggle through my 20 when pretty much instantly my stomach turned full of the coffee I'd knocked back an hour and a half ago in a feeble attempt to wake myself up. I ran to the bathroom across the hall and proceeded to vomit rich smelling coffee (Ah, Kirklands finest aromatic roasted beans from Colombia- is there a better cup of brewed coffee? If there is, I haven't tasted it) right down the sink. I felt like a piece of shit....those poor kids- with me as their teacher they never had a chance. As I exited the toilet, the Principal happened to be walking by on her morning rounds...I can only imagine what she thought of me but luckily she has no English to admonish me with, I did discern some sort of grunt coming from her though. I got through the rest of the classes having only to leave to get sick one more time- right down the sink again, no way I'm getting on my knees and heaving down a squatter, I don't even shit in them anymore unless absolutely stranded with no other option. Once the classes were over, it was lunch time. I'd  made no lunch that day due to being fucked that morning and I still felt like shit so in a moment of brazenness I strode straight out of the classroom and out the front gates. I got on the subway and went home, over 4 hours earlier than I was supposed to.

I hoped to get away with it but of all the luck a co-teacher had been looking for me because there was a document I was supposed to sign (of all fucking days!!) As I languished on the couch, full of Tylenol and Dominoes, watching cartoons my phone began ringing. So they were onto me, huh? I ignored the phone and satisfied myself with the thought that I'd figure it out tomorrow.

Fuck! It was tomorrow and I hadn't really figured anything out.....

On the subway into school the next day my brain raced attempting to come up with an excuse for my absence which was guaranteed to work. Turns out these Koreans didn't count on how little self-respect I happen to have for myself or my image, professionally or personally. So I degraded myself and informed them that I'd shit myself in school, had been too embarrassed to tell anyone and the smell too overwhelming to ignore, I'd gone home in shame. This of course wasn't true, although there have been times where such an outcome hasn't been far off and last year I did actually shit myself lying on the bed while hungover on the weekend, but now my co-workers must see me as that pathetic Irish man who often comes in hungover, stinking of cigarettes and one time shat his pants at his desk. Well...I hope it didn't count too badly towards me in my final evaluation- "Decent worker but personal hygiene and control of bowel movements leave some to be desired"

The next tale comes courtesy of one of the English boys who arrived last year and joined the Devils. He told me this story last week, it is called:

Indian Samosa 

This lads school has something called English Club which is basically after school English classes for 1st and 2nd graders- kids aged between 5-8 I think. He doesn't teach them, they get in outside teachers but his office happens to be in the classroom, separated by some thin walls. He can see the class going on through a window but says he usually puts his headphones in and ignores them. These English Clubs are pretty common, theres one in my school but in a completely separate classroom to mine.

On this particular day, he was surprised to see an Indian man enter the classroom as opposed to the usual combo of a Korean and possibly a white foreigner. He didn't think too much of it and left his headphones in. His interest was soon piqued however when this man calmly strode up to the front of the classroom, silently penned the words 'Indian Samosa' on the whiteboard and then sat at the desk. The words would remain there in a shroud of mystery for the rest of the class.

So, this seeming a little odd, our Hero (how I'll refer to the English lad from now on) decided he'd turn his music down and keep an eye on this class, just in case. Eventually a Korean teacher joined the classroom and gave the go ahead for our Indian friend to start.
Now something you must be acutely aware of when teaching kids in Korea is that you gotta speak slowly, clearly, pronounce words deliberately and use simple language, even change your accent if needs be. Well no one told old Indian Samosa this. He dived right in speaking at rapid-fire pace asking the kids "Howare youtoday" in a thick, incomprehensible Indian accent. He went on to tell them he would show them a video about where he was from. The kids looked on, some baffled, others frightened. An amused smile began to form on Our Hero's face and laughter had to be stifled as confusion and misunderstanding reigned supreme within the classroom.

Indian Samosa started his video presentation. It went into great detail about India and Indian culture. It was quite good according to our hero. It had subtitles- but they were in BLOODY English! Words such as amalgamation and conglomeration accompanied the spoken script but it all meant little to our confused little friends from The Land of The Morning Calm. Our Hero even confessed to "not havin' a fuckin clue what some of it meant" By this stage, Our Hero is constantly stifling laughter and has one headphone out.

The video ends and Indian Samosa immediately enquires "Didjulikedavideo?" The kids stare back blankly. He repeats the question a few times, with little help coming from the Korean teacher in the room, before giving up the fight. Slightly dejected, he then presents the class with some- get this- Indian Samosas and Lassi which the kids are pretty happy with. The shroud of mystery finally evaporates from the Whiteboard. As they munch and imbibe, he decides to have one last go. "DoesanybotyknowanytingaboutIndia?" he asks. To Our Hero's amazement, a young lad from second grade raises his hand. Our Hero now takes out both headphones, fascinated to see what this young lad could possibly contribute to an understanding of India and its culture through a language not his mother tongue. Old Indian Samosa looks as delighted as a dog with two dicks, "yes, go on, what do you know about India?", a glisten re-emerging in his eye which hasn't been seen since he initially strode up to the board and confidently penned them two fateful words. The kid stands up, mouth full of Samosa and exclaims, while patting his outstretched palm over his mouth: "India! Waw-waw-waw-waw-waw-waw-waw", in the way you may imitate a Native American as an uneducated, insensitive kid...like this:

To which the Korean teacher replies "Yes, yes, Indian- Waw-waw-waw-waw-waw" and before you know it there is a classroom full of Korean kids full of Samosas and Lassi, led by their teacher doing a rather offensive Native American impression in an attempt to show a now crestfallen and dejected Indian Samosa what they know about India. He slumped in his seat and watched them eat Samosas for the rest of the class. Jesus wept. Indian Samosa.

The next tale again comes courtesy of one of the lads from last Summers intake. This one is about a poor auld chap whose tale of misfortune I think is unparalleled in shittiness for what I've heard people have to put up with here. So, without further ado allow me to introduce:

Trailer Park Boy

So this lad arrived in Korea in the Summer of 2012. Much like many others he was filled with hope as he arrived at the EPIK orientation in Jeonju. Before long he had met a group of similarly minded lads. They enjoyed their football, their golf, their cricket, a good fry up washed down with a proper strong brew and they of course weren't shy of the booze every now and then. They were English and the group of them formed as naturally as the Cliffs of Dover themselves.

What became clear as the 9 days of orientation passed however was that all of this guys new friends were headed for the bright lights of Daegu city. Contrastingly, he was headed to the rural surroundings of Ulseong- a 2 hour bus journey away. The Daegu lads had heard tell of a football team by the name of the Devils in their city....full of Irish and Canadians, these boys were determined to turn that team English for the first time in its history (which they well and truly did a midst the appointment of quintessential Englishman Roland Jones as manager and an exodus of veterans from Canada and Ireland). He envied the Daegu boys but tried to stay positive. Rural Korea. Beautiful countryside? Perhaps a bigger place to live as a reward for his having to be in the back arse of nowhere. Poor lad. Poor, naive, wide-eyed young lad.

So he arrived in Ulseong to the news that he would be teaching at a number of schools dotted around his area, pretty standard practice for an EPIK teacher in the countryside. What wasn't particularly standard practice was living in what Rob described as a kind of larger "Garden Shed" and what we later supposed was most befitting of the description "The Trailer". I've heard of teachers in the country being given houses rather than apartments, a perk of the country over the city. This lad got a fuckin' trailer. He took it on the chin however and embraced the countryside, venturing to the mean streets of Daegu on weekends and eventually joining the famed Daegu Devils and becoming one of their most valued players, having the best debut season seen since the lad in the previous story the season before. Very good footballers these lads.

Soon the Winter came to Korea and for our young protagonist it would truly be a Winter of Discontent. The trailer seemed to lack heating facilities or at least any that functioned. Before long he found himself having to say something to his school as his nights began to consist of wrapping himself in the contents of his wardrobe, all the blankets he could find and gripping a cup of hot tea as hard as he could. His breath would still be visible. The schools solution was an electric heater but unfortunately, his pipes had frozen as well as the actual fucking water in his toilet bowl. He informed his school when they came to check his heating problem. Their solution: Shit in a bag. 

That's right. A man who came here to try to teach the impoverished rural children of Korea some valuable English, hoping to be well-treated and well-respected as a teacher was now stood in a trailer, in the middle of nowhere, with no heat and was being told if he had to shit, he best do it in a plastic bag and throw it outside. The kind of treatment Mark Corrigan would truly balk at. To say he had expected a little better would be putting it mildly.

But as the weather improved, inevitably so did his spirits and he agreed to stay a 2nd year (can you believe that? I'da been gone the second they asked me to shit in a bag!?!?!?!). He gets to move to Gumi for year 2...which is no big city but its certainly not the back arse of nowhere...a middle ground I guess.

He will be a trailer park boy no more.

I've fairly rambled with them stories so I think I can leave it there guys, hope you enjoyed. The stories I'm sure are much more enjoyable when you know the lads and they are being told by those in question, but still. I shall leave you with some pearls of wisdom I have acquired from one of the veteran Devils. He's quite a character, been in Korea around a decade, still playing football at 40. This quick story sums him up. He married in Korea to a girl he'd known in high school but hadn't seen in a while. On the day of the wedding, he hopped on his scooter outside the Registry Office after the ceremony, telling his newly wed wife he "had a private, see ya later". 6 months passed and it wasn't for him. He went to file for divorce. The clerk told him he had never been married cos he had never given in one of the required documents. "Perfect", he said, "even better." And once more he hopped on his scooter. Here are some choice quotes from the man himself.

"Ya gotta have goals man. Ya gotta have three goals. Ya gotta have a money goal, a career goal and a pussy goal man!"

"OK, don't keep the ball too long, just win it and give it to one of the skill players, like me."

Talking of a new centre back on the team who had impressed us all in his first few games: "Yeah he's good...but he's gotta pass me the ball more man" "Mikey...he's a centre back- you're right wing..."

"Going to see the family this summer Mikey?" "*(sighing)* Yeeaaaah" "Well, don't sound too excited" "Family's overrated"

"Yeah, I've a girl now. She's fat. I tell her she's fat."

"I say 'No ice-cream for you' I can have ice-cream, she's gotta eat a salad, she doesn't need ice-cream"

"Yeah, she wanted to come out last week but she's too fat to come out. I don't want her mixing with you guys"

About a guy with a Northern Irish accent: "Is that even English he's speaking? How is he an English teacher man?"

"Ya gotta make good decisions in Thailand man. I've seen people make bad decisions here, myself included"

"G was making bad decisions over there man."

In Thailand on a combination of substances: "Playing shithead? Let me play. I played this with him last week- I never lost, I NEVER LOST!" 5 minutes later: "I can't play this shit, I can't even see the fuckin cards"

"Ya know what you're gettin with a hooker."

And that, my scrotes, is all she wrote.

I'll see some of y'all soon, some of you I won't see soon enough but I certainly hope I see yis all again.

Keep her lit.

Indian Samosa.