I taught a grand total of 12.5 classes this week. At 40 minutes per class, that’s just over eight hours of real work. My job is ridiculous. How am I ever going to manage a REAL job with this as my first post-college experience? I am getting a little bored lately, though. Perhaps I should be working harder. A year of Fulbright has definitely made me lazy. I talk to other Fulbrighters and read their blogs sometimes, and it seems many of them are working hard, doing more than they have to, and enjoying it, and then I feel guilty about my laziness as a teacher and evasiveness as a coworker. Most of the time I figure, why should I do more than I have to? This is not the best attitude, but then, what came out of working hard last year? I was shown some vague appreciation and taken advantage of in terms of salary. So now I have lazy twelve-hour weeks and I enjoy it fully.
Except when the school insists on honing in on my free afternoons, as it did two weeks ago for that silly conference of prostitutes and again yesterday for a still-unexplained outing to the sea. Good thing I did my weekly Hongsan hike Tuesday afternoon, because I was required to accompany all of the teachers to Boryeong, a city near the west coast, about 40 minutes away. I was told we were going to visit an elementary school there, but we never made it because our bus broke down when we were dawdling at a sculpture park and it took about an hour to find a replacement. So we just skipped to dinner, which was the real reason for the outing, anyway, I think, because of the seafood available here. They had, literally, four courses of seafood. Four meal-sized courses of seafood. There was almost no other food—just a dish of canned corn and another dish of seaweed. Otherwise, at each four-person table, there was a huge pot of giant shrimp for the first course, a large platter of raw fish for the second, several humungous crabs for the third, and just when I thought it was winding down, rice and a monstrous fish stew for the final course. Because, of course, you haven’t really eaten until you have rice. It was absolutely ridiculous. A monstrous amount of food. And then, of course, they were really concerned that I would have nothing to eat. Usually it’s not a problem—I subsist off the side dishes—but this time, there weren’t many! It was ALL FISH! So I had a spicy bean soup and some of my favorite side dishes—black beans, bean sprouts, and kimchi—instead. It was delicious…maybe the best dwenjangchigae I’ve ever had. I must have eaten a pound of tofu. And in the end, the gym teacher (my personal favorite at the school, who always looks after my welfare) promised me an entire meal of vegetables next time. Yessss!!!
I usually don’t drink much at these affairs, even though alcohol flows freely, partly because I don’t often feel like it and partly because there’s such a strong bias against drinking in the women’s quarters, where I am usually sequestered. (I actually really hate this—they’re so dull! I just sit there and gorge myself and try not to sigh in frustration and boredom too audibly.) I decided last night that since the school had stolen my day and turned it into perhaps the most boring afternoon EVER, I would drink to at least bring a little spice into the evening. I wasn’t all that successful, though, mainly because of the covert intervention of these crafty ladies. Korean drinking culture dictates that no one’s glass remain empty. I kept downing shots, and they would never refill them. Never, never, never. Not even when I was forced to commit the social faux paus of raising an empty glass to a toast did they raise a finger. Not even when the vice principal, seeing my sudden zest for soju, deliberately left a bottle at our table with explicit instructions to keep my glass filled did they make a move to fulfill it. Not even when the principal himself came over with similar directions did they make any move to help me in my quest for drunkenness. I think, in retrospect, they wholeheartedly disapproved. They’re always making a big show of not drinking a drop, of pouring it out, of elaborate substitutions with pop. I didn’t realize until last night, though, that they so disapproved of others indulging. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. But I was definitely frustrated at the time, because I’m not really permitted to fill my own glass. Of course, I could have made the rounds of the tables, offering soju to all the men and drinking with them, but I didn’t really feel like going through the formalities. I am glad I drank some, though…it made the long long night of noraebang and travel more bearable. Sober, I probably would have been spitting fire. I didn’t get home until 9:30!
And now I am preparing for a wild weekend in Seoul. I hope I find more energy somewhere—I feel worn out. I even slept ten hours last night—what is wrong with me?!?