My trip to a Korean jjimjilbang 찜질방

One of the things I miss most from home is a lovely, big, hot bath. Something that I have now managed to find in a Korean jjimjilbang. However, at home I never had to worry about sharing my bubbles with a gaggle of ajummas (not entirely sure what the correct collective noun for ajummas is but gaggle somehow seems to fit. Either that or a coven).

It can be rather difficult to explain what a jjimjilbang is to people back home. Partly because we don’t have an equivalent in England, and partly because people can’t get past the ‘What?! Everyone’s naked?!‘ bit. I suppose the best way to describe a jjimjilbang would be like a public bathhouse but with added extras like saunas, a gym, a restaurant, an internet cafe, a DVD room, a library and sometimes even a norebang. They are open 24 hours a day and entry is usually somewhere between £4-£7.

There are two parts to most jjimjilbangs; the segregated (nude) bathing areas and the mixed sex (clothed) areas with all the other facilities. A visit to a jjimjilbang is usually fairly high up a foreigner’s to-do list in Korea, but despite having lived in South Korea for over 18 months I only tried it for the first time last week.

We decided to start with the mixed area, and hoped that we would be so relaxed afterwards that we would have lost our inhibitions, and some of our British prudishness, by the time we went to the baths. Having changed into our super-flattering standard issue shorts and t-shirt we ventured forth into the jjimjilbang. Around the edge of the main room there were a series of dome-shaped saunas, each with different temperatures, scents and purported health benefits. We tried Himalayan rock salt, bamboo, rose quartz, pine and, my favourite, a big cave-like room where the floor was covered in a layer of marble-sized hot pebbles. A nightmare to walk on but utter bliss once you managed to lie down.

Once we dragged ourselves away from the saunas we tried a massage chair. Well, I don’t know what I ever did to that chair but it seemed to hate me and was taking it out on my back. We somehow sat through 10 minutes of back-wrenching, shoulder-punching ‘relaxation’ while the Koreans all walked past us chuckling to themselves. Maybe they knew something we didn’t.

After another trip to the pebble sauna it was now time to brave the baths. Having said goodbye to the boys, I left my clothes, and my modesty, in my locker, made a mad dash across the changing room into the bathing area and just prayed that I didn’t bump into any of my students.

After a quick shower I headed for one of the steam rooms, thinking that they looked nice and dark and would give me a few moments to adjust to my new-found nakedness. But oh no. I stepped into the steam room and before I could even see through the steam I heard an alarmingly friendly ‘Hi! What’s your name?‘. After a few minutes of polite conversation the sweltering heat got too much for me so I made my excuses and escaped to the relative cool of the nearest hot tub. My new friend came over to join me and before I knew it started scrubbing my arms and back. ‘Don’t complain‘ she told/ordered me as she proceeded to scrape the top three layers of skin off my back. ‘You’re getting a bargain!‘ she assured me as she gestured towards a corner of the room where some jjimjilbang masseuses were charging ₩50,000 (£28) for all over, and I mean all over, body scrubs. I just hoped she wasn’t going to be quite so thorough. Fortunately she stopped after my arms, back and shoulders and after a little more stilted conversation we went our separate ways.

After a little more soaking in various pools, and accidentally hopping into the cold pool without looking at the temperature first, it was time to find my clothes and head home for the best nights sleep I’ve had in a long time.

We went to Sky Land Spa in Bucheon (Sang-dong Station, Line 7). The entry fee was ₩9,000.

Life as normal in South Korea

Another day, another threat. Long, vague, wordy statements reeled out one after another with all too familiar stock phrases such as ‘sea of fire‘ and ‘disastrous consequences‘. With joint US and South Korean military training exercises currently taking place and a newly elected President in the Blue House, Kim Jong-Un and his regime seem to have taken the bluster and hyperbole to a whole new level over the last couple of weeks. But despite the potential outbreak of ‘thermo-nuclear war‘, (Kim’s words, not mine) there is no sign of panic in South Korea and life goes on as normal.

Many Koreans have lived their entire lives listening to such threats, and the truth is that despite all the talk, North Korea’s threat-to-attack conversion rate is (fortunately!) very low. The general consensus seems to be that starting a war would be tantamount to suicide for the Kim regime. In fact, most people don’t even think that they want a war, but that they actually just want to be able to start negotiations for aid for their starving population and failing economy, and what better bargaining chip than a nuclear bomb. All these ominous threats and imminent rocket launches are seen as desperate attempts to be taken seriously and to get some attention, much in the same way that a petulant child might whine and stamp its feet until the older kids take notice.

For outsiders I think the situation looks a lot worse than it is, and most of the panic and fear-mongering is coming from several thousand miles away. Most Koreans seem remarkably unfazed by the presence of a tinpot dictator sitting on a reported stockpile of weapons just 30 miles away. However, every time I look at the Western news and read things written well out of reach of any nuclear weapon North Korea might possess, people seem to be genuinely afraid. I saw a headline on BBC News last weekend that proclaimed in big, bold letters ‘N Korea at war with S Korea‘. Well that’s been the case since 1950 so it hardly seems like news to me.

So to those of you (Mum and Dad!) waking up to headlines like ‘N Korea threatens nuclear war‘, don’t start sending gas masks and water filters just yet!

Norebang; Karaoke Korean style

We’ve all been there. It’s 2am and after a few too many shots you and your friends are slurring and swaying your way through your best rendition of Hey Jude. While in England the word ‘karaoke’ conjures up images of dingy pubs and office parties, Korea has taken karaoke and turned it into something of a sacred institution. Norebangs (literally translates to ‘singing rooms’) are popular, commonplace, and, dare I say it, enjoyable?

If there’s one thing Koreans love besides soju, which let’s face it is often an essential part of karaoke here, it’s a good sing song. According to statistics from 2009, there were almost over 36,000 norebangs in Korea, with 1.9 million people visiting them every day. Norebangs are dotted along every street and are usually identifiable by the glowing neon signs outside them and the wailing coming from within.

They range from tiny booths in games arcades to full-blown themed suites, and no Korean night out is complete without a visit to one. Usually kitted out with a disco ball, tambourines, a song book the size of the Yellow Pages and sometimes even a dance podium, the private rooms mean you don’t have to subject strangers to your best cat-strangling impressions. Just your friends.

The room hire itself is pretty cheap and while you are expected to order some food and drink you will often receive a lot of ‘service’, the wonderful Korean custom of giving away free stuff, often crispy pork cutlet, fried mushrooms or noodles.

One word of warning; never underestimate how seriously Koreans take norebang. Just as you’ve finished laughing your way through  ’Sweet Caroline’, your Korean friend will swoop in with an emotional version of ‘My Heart Will Go On’, and maybe even shush you if you dare to talk over them…

The hat is optional…

…as are the dodgy dance moves

How to get a Chinese visa from South Korea

Trying to obtain a visa for a country you plan to visit while you live in a country that isn’t the same country that issued your passport (are you still with me?) can prove rather complicated, as we recently found out when we tried to get Chinese visas for our English passports from South Korea.

Recent, rather frustrating, legislation means that Westerners living in Korea who plan to visit China have to get their visas through registered travel agencies, as opposed to applying directly to the Chinese embassy in South Korea. After reading various horror stories of hiked-up prices and scams I stumbled upon Soho Travel Agency which is based in Seoul and they were brilliant. Not only were they extremely helpful in answering the bazillion questions we had about the seven pages of  visa forms wanting to know our life histories, but they also replied to our emails very quickly and in perfect English.

We posted our forms, passports, alien registration cards and passport photos off, and within 5 days we had our visas. Highly recommended!

You know you teach English in Korea when…

…despite having no kids of your own you still get called ‘mum‘ five times a day.

…hearing ‘nice to meet you‘ from kids you’ve been teaching for over a year makes you want to cry.

…’magic‘ becomes a valid answer to any question.

…most lessons resemble a game of charades, and you’re actually getting pretty good at it.

…you’ve given up trying to explain that dragons and unicorns aren’t real.

…you feel so proud when you hear a kid talking to their friends outside the classroom and they use an expression that you taught them.

…there’s always one child who was obviously allowed to choose his own name. In a classroom of Toms and Sophies, there’s Chocolate.

…you’ve perfected the ‘shut up and sit down‘ glare.

…you’ve given up caring when your students tell you that you’re having a bad hair day, that you’ve got dark circles or that you have ‘soju face‘.

…there is nothing more heartbreaking than planning what you think is an amazing lesson, only for it to fail. Spectacularly.

…when trying to explain some of the finer nuances of the English grammar to a bunch of 6 year olds you’re met with the same expressions as if you were teaching them the laws of astrophysics.

…every time you hear ‘so-so‘ in response to ‘how are you today?‘ a little part of you dies inside.

…your English actually starts to get worse.

Seollal 2013: Year of the Snake

This weekend, February 9th, brings with it the Lunar New Year and the start of the Year of the Snake. Although often referred to as Chinese New Year, it is celebrated in many south-east Asian countries, including Korea where it is known as Seollal. While Koreans do celebrate the start of each year according to the Gregorian calendar on January 1st, Seollal is a much bigger celebration, lasting three days.

2013 is the year of the snake, which is the sixth zodiac sign in a twelve year cycle. People born in the Year of the Snake (like me!), are said to be wise and thoughtful, people who approach problems logically and rationally. They are clever, but often conceited and egoistic. They are very insightful and naturally intuitive, sometimes said to have a sixth sense. People born in this star sign appreciate fashion and beautiful things. Determined and ambitious, they often take failures to heart. Not sure I agree with all of that…

Last year we braved the cold and spent Seollal at Namsangol Hanok Village in Seoul, experiencing lots of traditional Korean activities and games. This year however, we’re going to see how they do it on the other side of the Yellow Sea; we’re going to Shanghai!

Happy New Year!

How to survive a Korean night out

To survive a Korean night out you will need to come equipped with three things; a liver of steel, an expandable stomach and a good set of lungs. Drinking with Koreans requires endurance.

Koreans bar-hop in a way that would put most university pub-crawls to shame. A typical night out will involve stopping off at several different bars, and each bar is called a ‘cha’. The stops are counted off as il-cha (round 1), i-cha (round 2), sam-cha (round 3), sa-cha (round four) and so on until, no matter how much you protest, you end up swaying and slurring along to Hey Jude in a norebang (karaoke).

The night will usually start with dinner, and the first few bottles of soju. Round two will most likely involve more soju or beer at a hof or a Western-style bar. Round three will be more of the same but maybe with some drinking games thrown in. Most hofs require you to order anju, food like fried chicken, fruit or dried squid. Many Koreans believe that eating salty or spicy food helps the body digest alcohol quicker. I’m yet to see proof of this.

Round four or five is invariably a trip to a norebang for a sing-along and yes, you guessed it, more booze and food. Then for those still drinking, or standing, a nightclub is usually the last destination for some dancing until the wee hours.

Make sure that you observe the rules of Korean drinking etiquette and remember, what happens on a Korean night out stays on a Korean night out!

Teaching English in South Korea: Hagwons vs. Public schools

South Korea’s education system has a global reputation for being rigorous and fiercely competitive, but also very successful, churning out thousands of highly motivated and hard-working students every year. In fact a recent league table of the best education systems in the developed world placed South Korea second, with 82% of high school graduates going on to study at university, the highest rate in the OECD. For a country that in 1945 had an adult literacy rate of just 22%, that is an incredible achievement.

So, having decided that you want to come and teach English in South Korea, one of your next decisions will be where you want to work. While there are a few highly sought after opportunities at international schools and universities, the vast majority of jobs are either at hagwons (private after-school academies) or at state-run public schools.

What is the difference?

Hagwons are privately owned schools, usually part of a franchise, and they are run for profit. They range from kindergarten through to adult learners, but most are elementary school students who go to a hagwon after finishing their day at public school. These academies are fuelled by South Korea’s drive for success and thirst for knowledge, and only the students whose parents can afford the fees enrol, which leads to some debate over academic elitism. The curriculum is set by the school or the franchise itself, and the teaching materials are provided for you.

Public schools however are run by the Korean government’s Ministry of Education. There are no fees and attendance is compulsory for children over the age of 6. The main public school recruitment programs are EPIK, GEPIK and SMOE, and they cover elementary, middle and high schools. While there is usually a set curriculum the foreign teacher should do all their own lesson planning. Just as a side note, Seoul’s Metropolitan Office of Education (SMOE) is gradually phasing out employing native-speaking English teachers by 2014, meaning that the only jobs available in the city will be at hagwons.

Both types of school have the same set of requirements, and both offer very similar contracts, including accommodation (or a housing allowance), a return flight ticket and an end of year bonus.

Hagwons

The pros

I’ve been working at a small hagwon in Incheon for 16 months now and I absolutely love my job, I have very little reason to grumble. Unfortunately the internet is full of horror stories about teachers being conned out of money, fired without warning, or turning up to work one afternoon to find the place boarded up. Please don’t think all hagwon employers are like this! Obviously the stories must come from somewhere, but my friends and I have only had positive experiences here, so don’t write hagwons off just yet.

Hagwons in general have much smaller classes than public schools, my largest class has just eight students. This not only makes controlling the classroom a lot easier, but it also gives you a real chance to bond with each child, which to me is invaluable. An added bonus is that all the students in the same class tend to be at roughly the same level of English, which isn’t always the case at public schools.

Working as an English teacher at a public school you should expect to earn around 1.8 million won (£1065) per month, whereas hagwon employees take home between 2.1 – 2.3 million (£1250 – £1360). However, wages at both types of school can vary slightly depending on what you studied at university and how much teaching experience you have.

Hagwons tend to employ more than one foreign teacher at a time, while public schools usually have just the one. While you’re not guaranteed to be best buds, it is somewhat reassuring to have someone else there, to bounce ideas around with and just generally whinge at on those rough days.

The cons

The one thing that I wish I could change about working at a hagwon is the pitiful amount of holiday we get. The average seems to be around 10 days a year, but some only give national holidays. Other possible downsides include the possibility of doing overtime or working on Saturdays. My one piece of advice would be to read your contract thoroughly (several times if necessary!) before you sign it to fully understand what will be expected of you.

Another fairly common gripe about hagwons is that they are businesses. The students’, and therefore the parents’ happiness is crucial. This is something that you will need to get your head around because if, heaven forbid, one of those little cherubs isn’t entirely happy, you will hear about it!

Due to the fact that hagwons are generally attended by students after they have finished at public school for the day, the working hours can seem a little bizarre at first. Most hagwons don’t start until 2 or 3 in the afternoon and can finish classes as late as 11, although most stop around 9 or 10. If you’re not a morning person (like me!) this might suit you quite well, and seeing as most English teachers are employed by hagwons the chances are your friends won’t be finished until then anyway.

A typical kindergarten hagwon class

Public school

The pros

At a public school you will get almost twice the amount of holiday time that you would from a hagwon, which corresponds with the slightly lower salary. Public school teachers usually receive around 21 days a year, split between Christmas and the summer, giving you plenty of chance to go off and explore Asia.

Another plus of public school employment are the regular hours, and only having to work on weekdays. Most schools run from around 8.30 til 3 or 4.

The fact that public schools are state-run provides a certain degree of security. There is no chance of being paid late, not being paid at all or being fired with no reason, which unfortunately are risks you take if you work for a hagwon. 

Upon arrival in South Korea all public school teachers have several days of orientation. This gives you chance to meet other foreign teachers, and be introduced to the public school system. If you work at a hagwon there’s no guarantee of having much time to find your feet before starting lessons. I arrived in Korea late on a Thursday evening and I started teaching classes at 9.30 the next morning!

This could be a pro or a con depending on who you end up with, but all foreign public school teachers have a Korean co-teacher in the classroom with them, to help keep control and to translate. This also means that the workload is split between two people. Some foreign teachers find having a Korean teacher with them to be invaluable in large, lower level classes. However, the students may come to rely on the Korean teacher too much and you might find yourself being ignored.

The cons

Another one that could be a pro or a con, depending on your point of view, is ‘desk-warming’. At a public school you are paid for a set amount of hours per month, and you are expected to be at the school for that time whether you are teaching or not. So there may well be mornings, afternoons or even entire days spent sitting at your desk, playing on your phone or watching films. While getting paid to do nothing might sound great, a lot of people actually find it mind-numbingly boring, and a waste of time.

Larger class sizes, often between 30 and 40 children per class, can make it harder to build up relationships with the students. Also, in public school classes, although the students will all be the same age their levels of English may vary widely.

There are certain limitations when it comes to applying to public schools. You can state a preference of ‘city’ or ‘provincial’, but you have no more say in the location than that.  Also, they tend to recruit only twice a year, in February and in August to tie in with the Korean semesters. Can you wait that long?!

A typical public school classroom

There’s no obvious choice as to which type of school you should go for, it really just comes down to personal preference and what you want out of your time in Korea.

Reverse culture shock

Well, I’m now back in snowy Korea after a wonderful, albeit brief, two weeks at home celebrating Christmas with my family. While it was the best Christmas a girl could wish for, I was surprised to realise that, although in many ways it felt like I’d never left, my home for the first 22 years of my life suddenly felt quite alien.

From this…

The shock of going from a 24/7 neon metropolis like Incheon to the heart of rural Leicestershire hit me as soon as we left the airport when, much to the amusement of my family, I couldn’t get over how dark it was. And there were so many stars! When I looked out of my bedroom window in the morning I saw green grass, not grey concrete, and the first cow (not on a plate) in over a year.

…to this!

Most of the pop culture references from the last 15 months that didn’t involve Gangnam Style (or Gangbang Style as one of my parents’ friends so brilliantly mistook it for) went straight over my head, and I hardly recognised any of the music on the radio. I also discovered that my friends and family don’t quite seem to share my love of K-pop.

My purse took a bit of a beating, as I’d completely forgotten what English prices were like. I was horrified to discover that a large glass of wine now costs £6 at my local pub, that’s the same as a proper meal, complete with beer, in Korea. I felt like I’d been mugged after making the mistake of getting a round in.

I could step out to cross the road when the green man was on without fear of being mowed down by a rogue taxi, and walk down the pavement without worrying about dodging delivery scooters. I waited at a zebra crossing so long that I got beeped at because, shock horror, pedestrians actually have right of way! I didn’t lose an hour of my day waiting at traffic lights and (most!) cars abide by the rules of the road. Wonderful.

Then there was the biggest difference, the ‘language barrier’. Hearing so much English, and actually understanding everything, was almost overwhelming. My ears went into eavesdropping overdrive! I noticed that my English had changed too, as I often found myself speaking in simplified English illustrated with overly enthusiastic hand gestures. Then of course there were those pesky Americanisms creeping in from time to time, I thought my brother was going to slap me when I suggested watching a ‘movie’ one night. Not speaking Korean was also surprisingly difficult. Standing in WHSmiths trying to work out why the cashier was looking at me like that until I realised I’d just thanked her in Korean was a little embarrassing to say the least.

Now I’m back in Korea, saying ‘thank you’ to people in English, taking my life into my hands when I cross the street, and missing bacon sandwiches. Thanks England, it was fun, see you next Christmas!

Magpies, moths and memory loss: Korean superstitions

Every culture has their own superstitions; The British won’t put new shoes on a table, the French believe stepping in dog poo will bring them luck, and Indians refuse to get their hair cut on a Tuesday. Here are some of Korea’s most bizarre beliefs!

• On the day of a big exam you shouldn’t wash your hair, as it will wash away everything you have learned. It’s also best to avoid ‘slippery’ foods like noodles or seaweed soup as they will cause information to slip away, and instead eat sticky foods like rice or sticky Korean candy.

• It is said that if you give shoes as a present to your boyfriend or girlfriend they will break up with you and use the shoes to run away. If someone does give you shoes you should give them a tiny sum of money, like 100₩ (5p/10¢), so the shoes are considered a ‘purchase’ and not a gift.

• Similarly, a woman should never feed her husband or boyfriend chicken wings, in case with a stomach full of wings he takes flight and leaves her. Especially if he’s wearing those new shoes.

• It would seem that the Tooth Fairy doesn’t visit this part of the world. Instead lower teeth should be thrown onto the roof, to encourage the new tooth to grow upwards, while upper teeth should be thrown under the house to encourage the new tooth to grow downwards.

• Don’t cut your nails at night, as Korean folklore says that mice will eat the clippings, become human and steal your soul. This one comes from the days before electricity so if you cut your nails at night, you wouldn’t be able to see to clean up, and the room would become dirty.

• You should also avoid whistling or singing at night, as it can attract ghosts or snakes to your house. Apparently no one told our neighbour this one.

• When moving house it is important to ensure that evil spirits don’t follow you to your new house. You should choose a 손없는날 (a day without uninvited guests), and moving companies often give a calendar for each month showing which days are ‘safe’ to move on. You shouldn’t sweep up before leaving the old house, because it tricks the spirits into thinking you’re still there, and by the time the new people arrive and clean the place, it’s too late for the spirits to find you.

• In Korean culture the number 4 is considered to be unlucky, because the words for ‘death’ and ‘four’ have the same pronunciation. In Korean elevators the button for the fourth floor is often labelled ‘F’ or sometimes missing altogether, and you should never give gifts in sets of 4.

• White is the colour of mourning and funerals, so wearing white ribbons in your hair is an invitation for death. At funerals the name of the deceased was traditionally written in red, to ward off those pesky evil spirits, so writing the names of living people in red is seriously unlucky, and can even be taken as a sign that you want that person dead!

• Many Korean girls believe that cutting their hair short will make them grow taller, and if you jump over a baby (not quite sure why you would!) the baby will always be short.

• On a baby’s first birthday people often present them with a pencil, some string and money. Whichever one the baby goes for first is a sign of their fortune. If they reach for the pencil they will be a good student, the string symbolises a long and healthy life and the money, of course, means they will be rich.

• If you see a crow or a raven when you leave the house in the morning it means you will have bad luck that day. However, if you see a magpie in the morning it’s a sign of good luck.

• If you catch the bouquet at a Korean wedding you have six months to get married, or you never will. For this reason Korean brides usually choose one of their friends who is engaged beforehand to catch the bouquet.

• Apparently if you touch a butterfly or a moth and then rub your eyes before washing your hands you will go blind. A similar thing is said for orange flowers.

• And lastly there’s every foreigner’s favourite…fan death. The genuine belief that sleeping in a room with the fan running overnight will kill you. According to the South Korean government this silent killer claims around ten lives every summer. There are several theories behind this one, including hypothermia, the fan creating a kind of air vortex around you causing you to slowly suffocate, the fan motor converting oxygen into carbon dioxide, and my personal favourite, the blades chopping up the air molecules making them un-breatheable. I’m no Einstein but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. The origins of this myth aren’t very clear as electric fans had been used in Korea for 80 years before the first reported case of fan death, but some people think the government started this rumour as an attempt to reduce energy usage at a time of limited supplies.