JOURNAL: Confessions of a Madwoman

I returned to Korea on February 27th after a long and relatively uneventful flight. I was very sad to leave the US again, and I considered not returning to the mess over here at all. So what stopped me? Well, here are my reasons:

1) Even though I have been ripped off, lied to, and placed in housing not fit for human habitation, I have decided not to play the game. I will uphold my word of honor, something I do not give lightly, even though the university has not kept strictly within the bounds of my contract. I will "let my 'yes' be my 'yes' and my 'no' be my 'no.'" Call me a fool, but honor is more important to me.

2) With the above said, the new administration, at our level at least, is trying to make necessary changes. Altough the powers-that-be flat out refused to let me move out and choose my own apartment, they did agreee to let me move to another apartment within the same building. The new head of the department has lived in the USA and has a decidedly Western attitude towards management, but he also recognizes that we have to deal with "Korean efficiency." He appears to be willing to be transparent with what is going on "upstairs."

3) This is an excellent resume builder. I would ideally like to work as a corporate trainer, teaching writing, speaking, and even ESL to employees of a large company. I know such positions exist, but I am a bit at a loss for where and how to obtain this sort of position. Any help would be appreciated...

4) I enjoy teaching the classes. The students are reasonably motivated, and I have learned quite a bit about teaching this year. I have always been creative, and this postition has truly allowed me to grow in wisdom and knowledge.

On a lighter note, Here is what occured when I came back to Korea:

It was 10:00 pm by the time I arrived in Byengjeom. The drunks were out in full force by then, and the taxi driver had difficulty passing through the street without mowing them down. I had two large bags on wheels, a hiking backpack, and a laptop bag with me - a heavy load by anyone's standards. Slick Willie (the liason) positively assured me via email that my apartment would be moved by the time I returned and that the apartment manager would leave the key in the mailbox for me. I should have known better and stayed in a hotel.

Needless to say, the key was NOT in the mailbox, and my cellphone was out of minutes because they time out from disuse over a certain period of time.

"Well," as I reasoned it, "as of last week the apartment had not yet been moved; maybe they forgot."

I decided to go to my old apartment in the same building and try the key. Lugging my baggage with me, I took the elevator to the fifth floor. I put my key in the lock and the door opened...sort of. The door handle had been taped at one end and anchored with more tape to a point inside the apartment like a makeshift "latch." I then noticed that the entrance way, what little I could see of it, contained clutter that was decidedly NOT mine. As I stood there, flabbergasted, a timid and frightened female voice inquired, "Aneong haseyo?"

"Errmm...hello? This is my apartment!" was all I could think of to say.

I tried to talk to the new occupant, but she was clearly frightened and shut the door firmly. That was when I lost it. I tried to roll my suitcases back to the elevator, but the largest one broke. Lack of sleep for 24 hours, the ridiculous situation I was in, and the inability to form a coherent thought finally overcame my good senses. Stomping, cursing, crying, and muttering like an idiot "but this is MY apartment! What do I do now? &^%$, &*!@, *&^%," I dragged the now defunct suitcase angrily back down the hall. As I moved away from my apparently "ex" apartment, I heard the new occupant sliding furniture against the door, and I added giggling to the mix. I could see the situation from her point of view very clearly - crazy American woman, probably drunk, a kidnapper still on the loose, and late at night to boot!

I left my luggage outside my new apartment (I hoped), and braved the drunk men to go into town to use the payphone. Naturally, they were all hanging around the phone booths, and were in a particularly frisky and jocular mood. I haughtily brushed passed them, startling some very alarmed street cats, who had been placidly munching on scraps from the impromptu and very ripe garbage pile next to the payphones. This proved to be an excellent, if unintentional, plan of action, as one of the oglers was sufficiently distracted to chase the fleeing cats under the cars. Koreans generally hate cats. This bought me enough time to make my call.

I angrily upbraided Slick Willie for not upholding his end of the deal, and he called the apartment manager. When I called him back a bit later, he said the manager was already on his way; aparently the manager had gotten a phone call from the very frightened new occupant! I got my keys.

The apartment manager refused the gift I brought from California to thank him for his trouble in moving all my belongings, and I can't say I blame him. It wasn't the usual "first refusal" Koreans give when offerd a gift, either. He was very annoyed, and I wonder if Slick Willie ever even told him about leaving the key in the mailbox.

I more or less made peace with Mr. Kim the next day, but kept the gift (Sees Candies) for myself!

My Internet still doesn't work, but the other appliances seem in fine order. Of course, the apartment was NOT cleaned; in fact there were old cigarette butts in the sink (eww!). But I will make like a Korean - wisk out my cleaning tools, and DEAL WITH IT!