One Fast Month

For 1 month and 1 week I have been residing in the bustling city of Busan. A concrete jungle of 711's and plastic surgery clinics and men hawking socks on the sidewalk. It smells of fish and sewage and food. The distinct smell of Asia. 

I arrived late on a Thursday night, and my recruiter, Su, swooped me up at the airport. She took me to my apartment straight away, and together we lugged my 70 pound suitcase up 5 flights of stairs. My place is nice and new, but I question the quality as there is mold growing above my window and the walls seem to be made of rice paper. Yup, that's right. I can hear my neighbors pee. However, I do have a balcony AND my kitchen has a door which is more than most people can claim. I live a 3 minute walk to the subway, and my stop has access to 2 different lines. 

I hop on the brown line at 12:53 pm everyday and head to Sajik. 7 stops and a 15 minute walk later, I am at my school. I am the only foreign teacher which has been challenging, but my 3 Korean co-teachers - Benny, Alexa and Helenna - are fantastic gals who have been incredibly helpful. My director, Mr. Jo, has made the transition very easy. He took me to get my physical, he took me to the immigration office, he took me to open a bank account, and then he got me a fancy new android.... which, at the moment, is lost somewhere in Saha-gu. I blame the soju. 

Initially, I was overwhelmed. I teetered between wanting to high-five everyone that passed me to having a complete meltdown. I was lonely. I was vulnerable. I was excited. I was learning so many new things. Was this a mistake? Or was this the best decision of my life? 

Good news is that all that anxiety is slowly melting away, and I'm really beginning to love this city. 

I'm home. 

Movin' ain't easy

The envelope containing my beloved passport has been sitting stagnant in a Chicago post office since Saturday... if it shows up tomorrow as they are 'guaranteeing' I might get arrested on assault charges for attacking the post man with bear hugs. 

I have put so much time and effort (not to mention cash) into moving abroad that having come so far to just miss my flights has been a HUGE disappointment. A heartbreaking disappointment. A 'can't sleep at night, obsessively check my e-mail and USPS tracking every 2o minutes, all I want to do is drink rum and sob' kind of disappointment. I'm trying to trust that my journey is unfolding just as it should be, but this particular journey has been quite taxing. 

Let's recap. This whole process has gone seemingly ass-backwards.

It all started with the FBI background check, which requires finger prints. To ensure accuracy, I thought I would get them done by a police officer - a government official, no less. I moseyed on down to the White Bear Lake PD and get them rolled in ink and everything. Old school. I sent those in, along with my payment, and waited. And waited some more. Waited over 6 weeks. And then I saw that my return envelope was finally coming back, and I rejoiced!

Alas, when it got here, it was merely a letter from the FBI stating that the fingerprints were 'too low quality', and to re-send them. Really? You couldn't have called? You used my express mail envelope that cost me $20 to tell me that? 

Fine. This time, I went to the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension in St. Paul, where they scanned my prints. No way to mess that up. But I don't want to wait another 6-8 weeks. Hell no. So I found a loop hole, and made my way down to my Congresswoman's office, where I met with an advisor who had me fill out paperwork. In turn, they contact the FBI and ask for expediting service. Government in action! And it ACTUALLY WORKED! I had my background check back just 8 days after I requested it. Score. I was feeling hopeful.

But hold up, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, I don't live on MayFOUR Ave. I live on MayFAIR Ave. Ugh. At this point, I just thought if it's good enough for the FBI, it's good enough for me. And so I sent my background check, incorrect address and all, to the Department of State to get apostilled as this is a requirement. $40 roundtrip express mail yet again. Shame on me. 

The next day, the FBI calls to inform me of their mistake. I explain that I already sent the background check to the State Department, and ask if they could *please* send the revised copy to the State Department as it was THEIR mistake? The FBI's in Pennsylvania... pretty damn close to DC. I would think they are in cahoots somehow. But of course they can't do that for me. They need to send it all the way back to Minnesota, so I can resend it, in yet another express mail envelope, and pay for a second apostille on top of it all. At this point, I'm thinking that this is all a grand scheme for me to single handedly get the USPS out of debt. 

Finally, I got all my documents. I accepted a job. Korean Immigration issues me a work visa, and I in turn send my passport to the Korean Consulate of Chicago so they can simply attach that visa in my passport. Easy peasy. The Consulate said they needed 5 days. My Korean travel agent man says that's a bunch of crap, they only need 3 days, and that he'll book my tickets even though I don't have my passport in hand. Thinking he's done this a million times, I agree. 

Mistake. Why on earth did I think things would start going smoothly now that it's go time?  I'm not sure if the US simply wants to keep me, or if Korea secretly doesn't want me, but I feel like I've been fighting some pretty strong universal forces on this decision. 

Trying real hard to roll with the punches, Korea. I'm told you will be worth it. 

I need a yoga class. Or a drink. Or both.

XO

AO 

Held up.

I was stressing about packing. A year is a long time and a short time all at the same time. What on earth will I need? I have finally gotten it all down to 2 suitcases and was feeling quite proud of myself. Ready. Set. GO.

But wait, the one thing I really NEED is not here. My passport. The Korean Consulate has misplaced my passport. I have been stalking them for the past week and a half, stressing the importance of receiving it back in time for my flights. My flights TOMORROW. And yet, here I am today with no passport in hand. Talk about putting things into perspective. 

I called the Consulate Thursday and pleaded with them to put it in the mail. I paid for Express mail, which means it should have gotten here Friday. I called them on Friday to ask where it was, they said they didn't have it, they put it in the mail yesterday. And yet here I am, Saturday, and the post man has come and gone. Furthermore, my tracking number gives me zero info, which means it probably hasn't made it's way to any post office what-so-ever. Frustrating.

And so, this morning we canceled my flights and my heart broke a little. 

Annyeonghaseyo, Chinguyeo!

Translation: Ello, Friend!

If you know me at all, you know by now that Asia has had me in it’s clutches since 2011, and I’m finally submitting to it whole heartedly and moving abroad. In just 6 short days, I will lug 3 enormous suitcases to the airport, likely pay a ridiculous amount in baggage overage fees, and board a plane bound for Busan, South Korea (byway of Chicago & Seoul, of course). 

Why Korea? Other than the thrill of air raid drills, noribong and an endless supply of kimchi? Well, it’s a means, to start. Teaching English in the ROK is quite a popular option if you are looking at dipping your toes into life as an expatriate - namely because no experience is necessary - only a bachelors degree, clean background check, and to hail from a native english speaking country are required. Bonus points are given if you include a charming, adorable photo of yourself. 

Did I go to school for teaching? NO!

Did I ever see myself as a teacher? Absolutely NOT!

Do I like kids? Mostly!

But you don’t know if you’re good at something until you try it, right? I might be AMAZING at this, or… I might just get by by the skin of my teeth. Either way, it’s bound to be an interesting adventure.

My employer, E Bo Young Talking Club, pays for my apartment, my airfare, my health insurance, and offers a severance bonus for completing my year long contract. Essentially, I have to pay for my food and my fun, which puts me in a spot to save a good chunk of money in the next year. I intend to springboard some future adventures with that loot... (AHEM, Bhutan/Nepal/India anyone???)

15 minutes by foot from my apartment. I see bronzed skin and a ridiculous amount of seafood consumption in my future. Did I mention I don't work until 1:30 pm? Trouble. 

The two times I've left Asia in the past, I've felt unfinished and like I was leaving a little piece of me there. I might have been THAT girl on the flight home, looking out the window, crying. It's a pattern, I swear. I cried when I had to leave summer camp as a kid.

what. a. freak.

And so, I leave North America with no intent of returning in the next year. How THRILLING! Goodbye West, hello East; I'm staying a while this go round. Third time's a charm, Asia!

Much love, 

XO

AO