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Wow, it's hard to believe that it's been an entire week since I arrived here in South Korea.

There are ten thousand things to talk about, to describe, to laugh at, but the task seems monumental. Trust me, if I had more time to myself I would have regaled you daily with stories about Korean businessmen, drunk on soju, speaking broken English to us at restaurants to impress their boss. I would tell you about the hilarious signs dotting the neon landscape around my apartment ("Jesus Loves Dumplings!"). I would have pages and pages of new and interesting experiences and observations, every single day.

But something about this place drains you.

It might be the work day. I'm wrestling with English from a whole new perspective, trying to explain the nuances of "Is" versus "Are" in sentences which, to me, is about the same as explaining how to breath. It's tough, maintaining the delicate balance between Interesting and Educating. Keeping the children happy, the parents happy, and the school administrators happy is rather taxing. I've been told it gets easier.

It might be the culture shock. Your brain is whirring on high blender speed 24/7 as you walk around the city, trying to understand everything. Back home, it's easy to stroll around on autopilot, confident that years and years of experience will get you from place to place, to where you need to go. Here in Korea, I've definitely noticed that I become fatigued from effort, pouring everything I've got into a single silly trip to get dinner. The simplest tasks become rocket science. My brain has been assailed mercilessly by booze and children and kebobs of questionable origin, and demands much sleep-time. This, too, will get easier as time goes on.

I already know how to get a beer: "Makchu, juseyo!" even though the Korean waitress will inevitably giggle at my boorish pronounciation. With food, I usually just point at some random collection of symbols and hope that what I get is tasty. It often is, although there's only a matter of time before I get a big plate of still-wiggling squid tentacles or a dog's head in a bowl of soup. Crossing fingers.

There's so much to see and do, and sitting at the computer and writing about it almost seems like a ridiculous prospect. I find my vocabulary shrinking already, my conversational style degenerating into a wild array of hand gestures: "No, no, my place is on the SIXTH floor. SIX!" (I'll flash six fingers emphatically, over and over, and then I'll realize that I'm talking to Chad who knows damn well what six is)

Chad and Jen are actually on their way here to Sanbon via the superduper subway system - we were supposed to spend the day in Seoul but it's raining and the Korean weatherman on TV keeps pointing to a big picture of a thunderstorm. I'm actually grateful for a day of nothingness, because I clearly need it. And in the next couple days I'll hopefully have the chance to post some pictures and a little more info.

I can already see that writing here will be my catharsis, when I get a chance, my release back into the easygoing world that I left behind one week ago. Because as enticing as diving headfirst into a new place may sound, it's always dangerous to leave yourself behind.

Posted by Chris at 12:43 AM >> Commentations (2)