Sobering work arrival and the "flaming shit"

"Dak-Galbi" Spicy Korean chicken with Cabbage

I've never been one to lament over days I "could have worked." This comes from the guy who was intentionally-unintentionally unemployed for 18 months. What I mean by that is, after my Hawaii teaching stint I wasn't super eager to jump back into the employment saddle, but at the same time, I had no intention of being unemployed for a year and a half . That, folks, was just a pleasant surprise!

So there Alla and I were: in Montana without jobs and itching to travel yet again. We accepted jobs in Daejeon thus officially starting Alla's second and a half and my second stints. A two week rendevouz in Thailand renewed our wanderlust for foreign lands and made the planning of our next vacation quite a bit easier. In addition, Thailand was the perfect way to cut down the nasty 'morning after bitch,' known as jet-lag.

After Thailand, we departed on a 14 hour trip to Korea. Typically these flights only take 6 hours but we were unwilling to spend this type of money so we ended up on a flight that routed through Kuala Lumpur. "Where?" you are asking. I understand your sentiment completely.

We arrived in Daejeon after our 14 hour trip, followed by an hour through immigration and baggage claim and one upped by a 3 hour bus ride to arrive at 10 a.m. By saving 500 USD each taking the Malaysia route, we ran into the jet-lag we were aiming to avoid. Just so happens we arrived smack dab in the middle of the school's lunch outing --Fantastic!

At the lunch buffet, we met our manager, other teachers and our boss. Alla and I weren't exactly in tip top shape for a meet and greet and I'm sure their first impression of us was likely the first impression of anyone who has ever met me; suspicious and hopelessly pessimistic. Because this was a company lunch, it was thankfully -- on-the-house. Unfortunately for me, I had to pass on the delicious raw fish, steak and other exotic foods. I was able to muscle down modest amounts of plain corn flakes though I'm sure I was nowhere near consuming 15 USD worth. A scruffy looking corn fed foreigner. I'm sure the brass was delighted.

Let's fast forward a couple of days to our first day at work. Our manager told us to make a lesson plan for our first day. I've heard things are pretty scattered in Hagwon land (Korean private school) but making a "lesson plan" for a month without a book, knowledge of the students' abilities or number of classes, seems to me to be the definition of wasting time. But like a good little foreigner, I obliged. With as much effort as I sink into anything, I produced some chicken scratch on a 6 x 8 inch piece of notebook paper. A Rembrandt it wasn't, but Korea isn't exactly The Louvre, either. Delighted at the fact that this took me about 2 minutes and included no references to scope, standards, knowledge or student centered learning, I gazed away in amusement over the fact I get paid a decent wage to speak my native tongue. To best summarize what exactly I do, imagine this: "pick up a book off the shelf and "teach". Those were the official instructions relayed to us from our boss. He also added other poignant advice like "finish the book" and "make sure the kids are happy". I suppose I shouldn't complain as that beats the hell out of "make sure there aren't any fry chunks when you clean the deep friers"

I can't speak on behalf of anyone else in the same Korean-made rickety boat we call an 'ESL career', but "teacher" is a moniker I can't don whole heartedly or even half ass-edly. Out here , well, I refer to myself as a "book guide". I help students complete textbooks. That's what I do. No more, and on occasion, less.

Well, the educational deity that apparently monitors the thoughts of underachieving book guides must of caught wind of my negative thinking and summoned the power of Montezuma and his revenge, who apparently thought nothing of a trans-Pacific flight to attack an unsuspecting traveler. It hit me like a freight train and off to the toilet, or hwa-jung-sil as I now know, I went.

There isn't a hard and fast rule about international toilets, supplies and etiquette that one can hang their hat on and it's prudent to scout out these facilities before you encounter an emergency. For instance, some toilets in England cost money. Did you know it's illegal to flush a toilet loudly in Switzerland? In Korea, bathrooms don't have hot water nor do they supply their own toilet paper. So there I was atop the porcelain thrown purging the contents of my lower intestine from the night's previous dinner of "dak galbi". I surveyed my options and when "Yo chief, can you spare some TP" met the echoes of an empty bathroom, I had to improvise. As it turns out, for once a lesson plan that I wrote came of some use :)

Phucket

Alla's "Baywatch" audition photo

If there's one thing I learned whilst traveling, it's this: if the "should I take the bus or an airplane"conundrum ever presents itself to you, you should most often chose "a plane". It's very simple but my cheapness has been clouding my judgement for years. Every once in a while a situation presents itself that even I couldn't choose the wrong answer; 18USD for an 11 hour bus ride or 50 USD for an hour flight. We chose the latter but probably only because of the Ko Chang broken AC/urinal bus incident. Something inside of me, especially when it comes to frugality and/or bargaining, brings out the worst/best in me. Because of my frugality, I've met many lovely people staying on random couches and hitchhiking both in foreign and domestic lands. On the flip side, I've managed to find my way onto the floor of an austere Austrian women who told me when I could and when I couldn't eat my own oatmeal, nearly beaten down by a Hawaiian man who saw me sneak into a hottub and ended up calling a park bench in Fukuoka, Japan home for an evening in early May last year.

We called this place home for four days.

But yeah, bargaining. The travel books tell you to bargain with the local merchant but what sick son of a bitch leaves a five dollar T-shirt, ahem four dollar T-shirt, on the bartering table in a sweltering tin shack over 30 baht (1 USD). Sadly, I do. If I had money, I'd more than confirm that trickle down economics doesn't work.

It is what it is - beautiful!

Alla, who was in charge of all bookings when it came to exactly where we stayed, chose a beautiful little bungalow on the northwest shore of Phucket. It was highly recommend by Lonely Planet (I'm sure "Lonely Planet" has made its way onto Stuff White People Like). The bungalow, called Seaside Cottages for those interested, was absolutely beautiful and extremely remote, as promised. Best of all, we met up with my buddy Kirk! I met Kirk nearly three years ago when I hosted him in Maui and we stayed in touch since then. Which brings me to my Couchsurfing.com plug. If you aren't a member then you need to be. My parents in ding fuck Montana have even hosted someone. The potential exists that you could meet someone as cool as Kirk! Ok, so it looks as though that was a Couchsurfing AND Kirk plug.

Kirk, you sand baggin son of a bitch! We took a 45 minute "public bus" ride into Phucket-town. The "public bus" was an 87 diesel Nissan truck flatbeded out. At one point, there were 18 people on it!

Mosquito's: 125, Garrett: 0

Ko Chang

One of the shanties we stayed at in Ko Chang. This bitch put us back 13 USD/night.

After four days in Bangkok, we made our way down to Ko Chang via bus. What started out as a very comfortable journey turned near death sentence a mere one hour later when the A/C decided to go out. To exacerbate our plight, our seats were located mere feet away from the latrine. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the A/C line above my head exploded and immediately saturated me with at least 20 ounces of water. That turned out to be a gift in disguise as the water was ice cold and for that brief moment, I felt like I wasn't going to melt into seat 14A.

Wild monkeys dine on garbage.

After arrival at the bus terminal, we took a taxi (and by taxi I mean an old Toyota truck flatbeded out to seat 15) to catch the Ko Chang 45 minute ferry. Arrival at Ko Chang meant another hotel/hostel. Something that made itself quite apparent to us within the first few hours of being in Ko Chang is that this place is absolutely teeming with Germans. Germans in the resturant. Germans on the beach. Germans watching an evening screening of "Dodgeball" in the open air theater. I only mention this because it would be precisely three days later that a German would nick my newly purchased sandals. (I didn't exactly catch him/her in the act but, you know, fucking Germans - nothing changes)

Doesn't get more international than this. Russian girl, German styled helmet, Japanese scooter, American photographer on left-hand drive Thai soil all at the Isreali price of 7 USD/day.

One of my lifelong dreams has been to drive a car in a "left-hand drive" country (shooting for the stars, I know). Well I got half way there. Being balls deep in an economic depression, we didn't have quite the paper to put down on a Lambo rental, we was able to, however, scratch up enough coin to rent the next available class, a Honda Click. Remembering only a few short years back of the nearly daily auto/scooter accidents on Maui made me slightly skidish but I'm glad we rented it as we were able to see 85 km worth of the island at our leisure.

We rode a fucking elephant! A fucking elephant!

On a more local culture note, I took to the guy who sold us the elephant trek. His name was Paum. Anyways Paum grew up about three hours outside of Bangkok. His career options were a) work on the family rice farm for next to nothing in the intense Thai heat or b) learn English, talk to tourist and work for next to nothing in the intense Thai heat. He choose the latter and makes about 4,100 baht (125 Usd) monthly. This makes returning to Korea and teaching children slightly less nauseating. Scratch that. I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I laughed as a tourist taunted this leashed monkey with an umbrella. I wouldn't be laughing minutes later as that disease infested son-of-a-bitch clung to my arm as I walked to close to his parameter.

Near Maui-esque beauty minus the Hilton pretension and the Gucci price tag.