| Another week has come, and another week has gone. However, the fun and games are somewhat over, as school begins on Wednesday. In case you were wondering, I am teaching five different classes and five different grades. I am the high school Bible teacher. Actually, I am the High School Bible Department. Therefore, if I wanted to complain to the department head about the curriculum, I need to go no further than the mirror. It is truly amazing to me to ponder that four years ago, I was in the midst of teaching English as a Foreign Language in Prague. While there, God exploded what I thought I wanted to do with my life and instead, gave me a passion for teaching, high school students, and the Bible. And so, four years later, I’m no longer looking out my window and enjoying the views over the city of Prague; nor am I staring out my little room in the boarding house in West Chicago; but instead, I’m staring out of my apartment in Songtan, Korea, watching the reddish hue of the sunset sky. Well, that wasn’t why I wanted to write, but it came to mind when I sat down. One of the things that has struck me since I’ve been here is the community. I’ve involved myself in two organizations since I’ve arrived—International Christian School, which is where I teach, and Mission Baptist Church, which is where I attend church. What I have found at both is fantastic community—unparalleled by any other place I’ve lived. For instance, when I arrived, my bags decided to hang out in Chicago. While it was funny for a few minutes, when the second day arrived, I was still wearing my cargo pants, my heaviest pair of shoes, a shirt, and I had my blazer. SIDEBAR 1: I have moved via plane twice. Once, I moved in the middle of January. Therefore, it was less a spectacle when I got to security and took off several layers of clothing. However, flying in July on a one-way ticket with several layers of clothing drew a suspicious eye…and several screenings. END SIDEBAR 1 SIDEBAR 2: If you ever visit me, attempt with all your life not to fly through Narita Airport in Tokyo. Let me walk you through what I had to do to get on my connecting flight. Remember, I went through security in O’Hare. I went to the gate. If I was plotting something nefarious, I would have been caught in security. If I forgot my nefarious gadget, I would have had to leave the gate, get the nefarious gadget, go through security, be patted down, strip-searched, have the nefarious gadget found, and get sent to Club Gitmo because of my nefarious activity. SIDEBAR 3: I really like the word nefarious. It’s right up there with rotund. END SIDEBAR 3 I then got on the plane, where it would be impossible to receive something from the outside. We landed in Japan, where they ushered us out of the plane and straight to a security gate. I had to shed all the layers of clothing, hear people sighing behind me as I took 4 bins and 15 minutes to get everything off my person, go through the metal detector, have it beep, spend another minute taking more things off, and finally get through. END SIDEBAR 2 Anyway, the whole goal of this journal was to share about the hospitality of my administrator and his family. The second day, we all had breakfast, and they gave me a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to hold me over for that day. The next day, the bags still hadn’t arrived, so they gave me more shorts, more t-shirts, and underwear. SIDEBAR 4 Those of you who really know me know that I would never ever in a million years wear someone else’s underwear. I get wigged out if someone touches my food. Well, never say never. There’s an old saying, “Never judge a person until you walk a mile in their shoes.” I would like to add the Zanger Corollary: “Never judge a person until you walk a mile in their shoes…or walk 50 feet in their tidy whities.” END SIDEBAR 4 This man and his family have bent over backward to make me feel welcomed. It truly is a blessing to be under his wing. The other thing that has blown me away is that I haven’t had a day yet (and we’re up to day 18 on the Korean peninsula) where all I’ve done is eaten alone. To put it positively, every day here, I’ve had a meal with a group of people, or one other person. That also is a blessing, especially since I’m living alone. I guess that’s about all. I want to thank you all for reading this, for your prayers, and for your encouragement. Even though I’ve been busy and haven’t been able to respond to all of you, your prayers and encouragement mean more to me than you will ever know. Thanks so much. Lastly, I have an address to give those of you who want to send me letters, gift boxes :), etc. Eric Zanger International Christian School P.O. Box 24 Pyongtaek 450-600 Republic of Korea To my dear friends teaching and learning at Wheaton Academy, have a wonderful week of school. To the rest of you, have great weeks. See you next time. |
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Well, I’m a day away from a week of in-services, curriculum planning, and other academic-related stuff. We begin August 22, and I cannot be more excited.
By the way, as school nears, my goal is to write at least once a week, usually on the weekend.
With all respect due him, I am going to steal an idea that Thomas Sowell has. Thomas Sowell is an economist, a historian, a columnist, and possibly one of the brightest minds operating today. When he cannot fill a column with the necessary words, he writes a column called “Random Thoughts on the Passing Scene.”
· Let me preface the first point with, “Until you visit Korea, you will not understand.” Korea has a distinct smell. Now, I can’t describe it, but I just thought I’d tell you.
Dear Mr. Zanger,
I know what you mean.
Sincerely,
Bob Zigler
President
I Can’t Describe the Taste of this Meat so I’ll Say it Tastes Like Chicken Club of America
· This week, I went to the bank to open a Korean checking account. Now, before you call me a linguistic genius, I went with a Korean-speaking person who actually set it up for me. I went solely because I needed to sign papers and look confused. However, I may want to go to the bank more often after going the first time, because at the bank is a scale that reads your height, weight, and gives you your BMI; a blood-pressure measurer; and a small convenience store. So, in fifteen minutes, you can get money, make sure you are physically fit (though the doctor is not included in the fun and games at the bank), and buy dinner. I love Korea.
· Driving in Korea is fun. Red lights are optional, but Koreans are very picky about turning left. They only turn left with the arrow. They will never turn left on an ordinary green light. There are few police officers trying to catch you speeding; instead, there are cameras that photograph you if you are speeding. Now, before you cry, “Big Brother is Watching You,” these cameras are few and far between. The primary way they make you go the speed limit is to place speed bumps everywhere. These aren’t the cute mini-bumps in parking lots; these are the send-you-into-orbit-so-fast-you-can’t-even-say-goodbye speed bumps.
· I went to the immigration office this week to become a legal alien. No story here, just passing on the info.
· The churches in Korea have neon crosses that glow at night. They are there to make them more identifiable. When I drove down the first night from the airport, we passed through Seoul. Seoul was a sea of neon crosses. However, none of that compares to La Sagrada Familia, the enormous church that is still being built in Barcelona. It is said to have a light on it that is visible in the Mediterranean.
· My high school principal said, as we were sitting on the beach staring out into the West Sea, “Korea is one of the few places where I could climb a mountain in the morning and be on the beach by the evening.”
· Yes, I was at the beach in Korea.
· And yes, it was awesome.
· See you next week.
· Be safe.
By the way, as school nears, my goal is to write at least once a week, usually on the weekend.
With all respect due him, I am going to steal an idea that Thomas Sowell has. Thomas Sowell is an economist, a historian, a columnist, and possibly one of the brightest minds operating today. When he cannot fill a column with the necessary words, he writes a column called “Random Thoughts on the Passing Scene.”
· Let me preface the first point with, “Until you visit Korea, you will not understand.” Korea has a distinct smell. Now, I can’t describe it, but I just thought I’d tell you.
Dear Mr. Zanger,
I know what you mean.
Sincerely,
Bob Zigler
President
I Can’t Describe the Taste of this Meat so I’ll Say it Tastes Like Chicken Club of America
· This week, I went to the bank to open a Korean checking account. Now, before you call me a linguistic genius, I went with a Korean-speaking person who actually set it up for me. I went solely because I needed to sign papers and look confused. However, I may want to go to the bank more often after going the first time, because at the bank is a scale that reads your height, weight, and gives you your BMI; a blood-pressure measurer; and a small convenience store. So, in fifteen minutes, you can get money, make sure you are physically fit (though the doctor is not included in the fun and games at the bank), and buy dinner. I love Korea.
· Driving in Korea is fun. Red lights are optional, but Koreans are very picky about turning left. They only turn left with the arrow. They will never turn left on an ordinary green light. There are few police officers trying to catch you speeding; instead, there are cameras that photograph you if you are speeding. Now, before you cry, “Big Brother is Watching You,” these cameras are few and far between. The primary way they make you go the speed limit is to place speed bumps everywhere. These aren’t the cute mini-bumps in parking lots; these are the send-you-into-orbit-so-fast-you-can’t-even-say-goodbye speed bumps.
· I went to the immigration office this week to become a legal alien. No story here, just passing on the info.
· The churches in Korea have neon crosses that glow at night. They are there to make them more identifiable. When I drove down the first night from the airport, we passed through Seoul. Seoul was a sea of neon crosses. However, none of that compares to La Sagrada Familia, the enormous church that is still being built in Barcelona. It is said to have a light on it that is visible in the Mediterranean.
· My high school principal said, as we were sitting on the beach staring out into the West Sea, “Korea is one of the few places where I could climb a mountain in the morning and be on the beach by the evening.”
· Yes, I was at the beach in Korea.
· And yes, it was awesome.
· See you next week.
· Be safe.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Day three is upon me. It is 2:45 PM here, which means that it is 12:45 AM in Chicago. Thankfully, I’m not jetlagged (which, after reading last night’s journal, I know that I was then…good luck reading that one). I’m still sans baggage and sans working phone.
Anyway, back to day one. I took a tour of my school, saw my room, saw the mess of my room, and I saw something that needed a quick remedy. So, in two days, my room is about 75% done, and for my former students, yes, I do have a podium, which means that I will have something to hit and make tons of noise with.
I’m pumped—I have a white board and a projector (thanks, Mr. Boyer!). I’ve already become 5% better as a teacher.
My room looks out on the parking lot, and beyond that are rice paddies. Beyond that is a highway, and beyond that is a city with 10+ story apartment buildings. So, in one glance out a window, I see hundreds of years of economic development.
The one thing that is driving me crazy & sweaty, which is not cool considering ALL my deodorant is in transit, is the lack of air conditioning. I am sitting at my computer with a fan about 2 inches behind my head at about full blast. For those of you who remember the old Maxell commercials with the studly guy in the leather coat and how his hair (and, if I recall correctly, every other appliance in the room) is blowing away from the power of the speakers…well imagine that in the opposite direction, because that’s me right now.
Another interesting thing is my bathroom. In my bathroom is the following: a toilet, a sink, and a shower.
Dear Eric,
No duh. Welcome to civilization.
Love,
Every Homeowner in America
Thanks. The bathroom, for lack of a better description, is in the shape of a trapezoid. Along the base, which is about 7 feet long, is the sink. Up one side, which is about 5 feet, is the toilet. Down the angle, which is about 7 feet, is the shower.
SIDEBAR:
I haven’t done the calculation, but that’s a lot of stuff in a small area.
END SIDEBAR
Small problem with the shower is that the head is located in a position that makes the installation of a rod and curtain impossible. Therefore, whenever I take a shower, I have to batten down the hatches and make sure that 1) My towel isn’t in the bathroom with me and 2) the toilet paper is stowed in an upright and locked position.
SIDEBAR:
Things like this make me glad I live alone. A shower involves traveling between two rooms with severe nakedness. Not exactly the best way to get to know your roommate.
END SIDEBAR
Anyway, after the shower, the bathroom is flooded for about 15 minutes. I’m glad I learned that now instead of the first day of school.
Yet another interesting thing: My neighbor came over to say hello in Korean and promptly invited himself in and, according to my administrator, who was there with me while this was going on, “saw what I did with the place.” The guy looked at my bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room. Upon exiting, my administrator told me that this was completely normal. He then reassured me and told me that I was in the safest part of an already safe city and that the man wasn’t surveying my apartment for things to borrow for a really long time.
By the way, my apartment is on the third floor of a building. The first floor is home to a beauty salon. The second floor is home to an open-very-late Internet Café, which I will frequent every once in awhile.
The final interesting thing is how they deliver food. I ordered, through our school secretary, pork fried rice.
SIDEBAR:
Dear Eric,
You’ve had more sidebars than your allotment.
Sincerely,
The American BAR Association & The United Press International & The Associated Press
Too bad! I’m in Korea now!
The secretary told me that this restaurant doesn’t make the greatest Korean food and that I shouldn’t judge all Korean food by this food. Upon eating this food, I can’t wait until I get better Korean food, because this food was amazing. I can’t fathom how it gets better.
END SIDEBAR
The food gets delivered by a guy in a scooter. By the way, in Korea, there is no tipping. No tips to cabs, deliverymen, etc. They don’t believe in tips here.
My lunch, which was $4.50, included soup, fried rice, a bowl of sauce for the fried rice, kimchi, and some other vegetables. What’s fascinating is that all of these things came in individually-wrapped plastic bowls and plates. I also had a metal spoon as part of the grouping. After I finished my meal, I was told to leave all the plates outside because the same guy would come back and get the plates for reuse later.
Apparently, they do not believe in Styrofoam in Korea.
Yesterday, I spent some time and money at the E-Mart, which is on par with Wal-Mart or Target in America. While there, I saw an aisle of 20 kg bags of rice (44 lb). I was blown away, so I had to take a picture of it.
Bad choice.
In about 30 seconds, I was approached by someone, who admonished me in Korean, but made sure to say, in English, “no picture.” I believe the Korean went something like this: “You ninny! You should know better than to bring a camera into a store and take pictures. I bet you’re not even an American. You’re probably with one of the competitors, trying to take pictures of our pricing scheme, but dressed in an American costume. But, just to make sure…no picture…you ninny.”
I can’t think of much more to write. Email me and hopefully, I’ll be at school on Monday…which is your Sunday night, and I’ll respond.
Anyway, back to day one. I took a tour of my school, saw my room, saw the mess of my room, and I saw something that needed a quick remedy. So, in two days, my room is about 75% done, and for my former students, yes, I do have a podium, which means that I will have something to hit and make tons of noise with.
I’m pumped—I have a white board and a projector (thanks, Mr. Boyer!). I’ve already become 5% better as a teacher.
My room looks out on the parking lot, and beyond that are rice paddies. Beyond that is a highway, and beyond that is a city with 10+ story apartment buildings. So, in one glance out a window, I see hundreds of years of economic development.
The one thing that is driving me crazy & sweaty, which is not cool considering ALL my deodorant is in transit, is the lack of air conditioning. I am sitting at my computer with a fan about 2 inches behind my head at about full blast. For those of you who remember the old Maxell commercials with the studly guy in the leather coat and how his hair (and, if I recall correctly, every other appliance in the room) is blowing away from the power of the speakers…well imagine that in the opposite direction, because that’s me right now.
Another interesting thing is my bathroom. In my bathroom is the following: a toilet, a sink, and a shower.
Dear Eric,
No duh. Welcome to civilization.
Love,
Every Homeowner in America
Thanks. The bathroom, for lack of a better description, is in the shape of a trapezoid. Along the base, which is about 7 feet long, is the sink. Up one side, which is about 5 feet, is the toilet. Down the angle, which is about 7 feet, is the shower.
SIDEBAR:
I haven’t done the calculation, but that’s a lot of stuff in a small area.
END SIDEBAR
Small problem with the shower is that the head is located in a position that makes the installation of a rod and curtain impossible. Therefore, whenever I take a shower, I have to batten down the hatches and make sure that 1) My towel isn’t in the bathroom with me and 2) the toilet paper is stowed in an upright and locked position.
SIDEBAR:
Things like this make me glad I live alone. A shower involves traveling between two rooms with severe nakedness. Not exactly the best way to get to know your roommate.
END SIDEBAR
Anyway, after the shower, the bathroom is flooded for about 15 minutes. I’m glad I learned that now instead of the first day of school.
Yet another interesting thing: My neighbor came over to say hello in Korean and promptly invited himself in and, according to my administrator, who was there with me while this was going on, “saw what I did with the place.” The guy looked at my bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room. Upon exiting, my administrator told me that this was completely normal. He then reassured me and told me that I was in the safest part of an already safe city and that the man wasn’t surveying my apartment for things to borrow for a really long time.
By the way, my apartment is on the third floor of a building. The first floor is home to a beauty salon. The second floor is home to an open-very-late Internet Café, which I will frequent every once in awhile.
The final interesting thing is how they deliver food. I ordered, through our school secretary, pork fried rice.
SIDEBAR:
Dear Eric,
You’ve had more sidebars than your allotment.
Sincerely,
The American BAR Association & The United Press International & The Associated Press
Too bad! I’m in Korea now!
The secretary told me that this restaurant doesn’t make the greatest Korean food and that I shouldn’t judge all Korean food by this food. Upon eating this food, I can’t wait until I get better Korean food, because this food was amazing. I can’t fathom how it gets better.
END SIDEBAR
The food gets delivered by a guy in a scooter. By the way, in Korea, there is no tipping. No tips to cabs, deliverymen, etc. They don’t believe in tips here.
My lunch, which was $4.50, included soup, fried rice, a bowl of sauce for the fried rice, kimchi, and some other vegetables. What’s fascinating is that all of these things came in individually-wrapped plastic bowls and plates. I also had a metal spoon as part of the grouping. After I finished my meal, I was told to leave all the plates outside because the same guy would come back and get the plates for reuse later.
Apparently, they do not believe in Styrofoam in Korea.
Yesterday, I spent some time and money at the E-Mart, which is on par with Wal-Mart or Target in America. While there, I saw an aisle of 20 kg bags of rice (44 lb). I was blown away, so I had to take a picture of it.
Bad choice.
In about 30 seconds, I was approached by someone, who admonished me in Korean, but made sure to say, in English, “no picture.” I believe the Korean went something like this: “You ninny! You should know better than to bring a camera into a store and take pictures. I bet you’re not even an American. You’re probably with one of the competitors, trying to take pictures of our pricing scheme, but dressed in an American costume. But, just to make sure…no picture…you ninny.”
I can’t think of much more to write. Email me and hopefully, I’ll be at school on Monday…which is your Sunday night, and I’ll respond.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
I really don’t know where to begin. I’ve seen so much in a share under 24 hours that I know I cannot do justice to all the things I’ve had the privilege of seeing.
I guess the best is to back up a month and take you with me to Mississippi. While I was there, a presenter gave us a model for how to leave well (not live well, but leave well). The same presenter gave us a snapshot of what it is like to go from one culture to another culture, and how there are several stages that one goes through—the honeymoon stage where everything is good and all is well; the fight stage where I really wish Korea was more like America; the flight stage where I basically want to fly home to have Chick-fil-A or Chipotle because this kimchi is making me crazy or I spend 14 hours of my day on Facebook talking to my American friends; and the fit stage, where as best as a foreigner can, I am able to join in the new culture and enjoy it.
SIDEBAR:
By the way, I live by an Air Force Base. The plane overhead just reminded me.
One thing that is cool about having an Air Force base nearby is that there are more English words on packaging than I was hoping for—which makes it feel more like Prague than getting dropped in a “we don’t speak English and we frown on those that do” culture. By the way, if I had the entrepreneurial drive, a good director, and insanity, I might take a page out of Bear Grylls’ hat (he of Man vs. Wild fame on Discovery) and do a show for the Travel Channel where I skydive/get dropped from a helicopter/hang glide/etc. into a foreign culture and I have to find an English-speaking person. I’d call it Man vs. Culture and it would last about four minutes because one of two things would happen. First, I’d probably get sued for stealing everything from Man vs. Wild. If I didn’t, I’d go on the first excursion and I’d find an English-speaking person in about four minutes. My show would almost be as lame as a season of 24 where all they do is let Jack Bauer do what he wants to do…and they’d have to call the show 10. Better yet, it’d be called 1.
The bad thing about living by an Air Force base is the occasional flyby of an F-16 at about 5000 ft. Still, even that is pretty cool.
END SIDEBAR
Anyway, I’m in the Honeymoon stage.
Let me back up 24 hours, which is about the time yesterday that I realized that zero bags that I checked to go to Seoul got to Seoul. Apparently, they hadn’t gone to orientation to learn how to leave well, so my bags will be getting to me tomorrow. Thankfully, I have good people here who have donated stuff to the single guy cause and I no longer smell, and, better for me, I’m no longer wearing what I was wearing on the plane.
By the way, the plane rides over were flat-out naughty. I flew Business class to Tokyo and then got a bump up to First Class to Seoul. Flying has now been ruined, because I have experienced the best.
I’m exhausted, so I’ll pick up tomorrow. Peace out.
I guess the best is to back up a month and take you with me to Mississippi. While I was there, a presenter gave us a model for how to leave well (not live well, but leave well). The same presenter gave us a snapshot of what it is like to go from one culture to another culture, and how there are several stages that one goes through—the honeymoon stage where everything is good and all is well; the fight stage where I really wish Korea was more like America; the flight stage where I basically want to fly home to have Chick-fil-A or Chipotle because this kimchi is making me crazy or I spend 14 hours of my day on Facebook talking to my American friends; and the fit stage, where as best as a foreigner can, I am able to join in the new culture and enjoy it.
SIDEBAR:
By the way, I live by an Air Force Base. The plane overhead just reminded me.
One thing that is cool about having an Air Force base nearby is that there are more English words on packaging than I was hoping for—which makes it feel more like Prague than getting dropped in a “we don’t speak English and we frown on those that do” culture. By the way, if I had the entrepreneurial drive, a good director, and insanity, I might take a page out of Bear Grylls’ hat (he of Man vs. Wild fame on Discovery) and do a show for the Travel Channel where I skydive/get dropped from a helicopter/hang glide/etc. into a foreign culture and I have to find an English-speaking person. I’d call it Man vs. Culture and it would last about four minutes because one of two things would happen. First, I’d probably get sued for stealing everything from Man vs. Wild. If I didn’t, I’d go on the first excursion and I’d find an English-speaking person in about four minutes. My show would almost be as lame as a season of 24 where all they do is let Jack Bauer do what he wants to do…and they’d have to call the show 10. Better yet, it’d be called 1.
The bad thing about living by an Air Force base is the occasional flyby of an F-16 at about 5000 ft. Still, even that is pretty cool.
END SIDEBAR
Anyway, I’m in the Honeymoon stage.
Let me back up 24 hours, which is about the time yesterday that I realized that zero bags that I checked to go to Seoul got to Seoul. Apparently, they hadn’t gone to orientation to learn how to leave well, so my bags will be getting to me tomorrow. Thankfully, I have good people here who have donated stuff to the single guy cause and I no longer smell, and, better for me, I’m no longer wearing what I was wearing on the plane.
By the way, the plane rides over were flat-out naughty. I flew Business class to Tokyo and then got a bump up to First Class to Seoul. Flying has now been ruined, because I have experienced the best.
I’m exhausted, so I’ll pick up tomorrow. Peace out.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
(From now on, all times will be those of the country I’m staying in. Right now, it’s Japan. 4:24 PM in Japan=2:24 AM in Chicago)
Greetings from Japan. I don’t have tremendous cultural musings about the new country I’m in because it would be claptrap about their airport, which doesn’t do Japan justice. So, I’ll spare you that nonsense.
I do have some people to thank for the sweet trip I had on my way out here. The first is Rick Coopman, who gave me a companion pass that allowed me to fly from O’Hare to Tokyo for super cheap. The second are my parents, who kept their calm as I, like a maniac, made last-minute packing decisions. Sometimes, my procrastination mystifies myself, and I cannot fathom what it does to them.
Anyway, I have a little over an hour to try to stay awake so that I can board my flight to get me to Seoul.
Peace out.
Greetings from Japan. I don’t have tremendous cultural musings about the new country I’m in because it would be claptrap about their airport, which doesn’t do Japan justice. So, I’ll spare you that nonsense.
I do have some people to thank for the sweet trip I had on my way out here. The first is Rick Coopman, who gave me a companion pass that allowed me to fly from O’Hare to Tokyo for super cheap. The second are my parents, who kept their calm as I, like a maniac, made last-minute packing decisions. Sometimes, my procrastination mystifies myself, and I cannot fathom what it does to them.
Anyway, I have a little over an hour to try to stay awake so that I can board my flight to get me to Seoul.
Peace out.
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