The Happy Monday Notes

The clock in the Englishzone shows the time at 09.46. First class was due to start at 09.30 and I’m still the only person in the room, I guess it’s cancelled. So, this Miscrosoft Word window will remain open and I’ll sit here and share my day with you. Put the kettle on, get your favourite biscuits out the cupboard, scratch that private itch and get comfortable.

10.12 – Second class also cancelled it seems. “Manchester City goalkeeper Joe Hart struggled to cope with the balloons.” That’s a mental headline. Did he have a long weekend with Dolly Parton? Was he in a competition where to have to touch as many balloons as you can while wearing only pins? No. He was playing football. I’ve just read that on the BBC website but it’s nice to imagine serious discussion by straight-faced men in suits about balloons on various football highlights shows. I’m not sure where I’m going with this; it’s a topsy-turvy world we live in, I guess that’s my point.

10.24 – I just woke the photocopier up from it’s sleep mode and had a pang of guilt. It seemed about as happy as I was when I was woken by my alarm this morning. The noises and beeps could almost have been grunts and requests for five more minutes. Mr Glenn thought he should copy some worksheets just in case the next class is on. It’s 01.34am in the UK now and while I complete one of the colouring in exercises myself, I’m on MSN with my amigo Mel arranging a weekend visit to York next year. Home is missed sometimes, not too often though.

11.12 – Mum’s can be so pushy sometimes. A sweet and curious little person in grade four has just came to visit me, dropping off a standard satsuma and displaying a new perm. His mum forced him to have a perm over the weekend. The poor kid looks like a mini 1970’s version of Kevin Keegan. From now on, I shall call him ‘special k’.

12.45 – Nope, all classes cancelled for today. Apparently the kids went home an hour ago, I didn’t realise. There could be a bomb scare and I’d still be sat here, blissfully un-aware with the heater on full and my Putumayo world music collection providing some ambience. “Mr Glenn, it’s lunch-ie time, come to the un able classroom” said the voice on the internal phone about an hour ago, un-able must be a loose translation of ‘disabled classroom’ which is a makeshift dining room while the canteen is closed. Today was another take-out lunch from a local restaurant. Altang (fish egg) soup was the menu. Made with pollock spawn, radish, crown daisy, bean sprouts, and parsley, seasoned with hot spicy red pepper, it’s a lot nicer than in sounds and is well-suited to the cold winter which shows no signs of letting up anytime soon.

15.29 – Absolutely delighted. It’s been a tough couple of hours but with the help of a co-teacher, Mr Glenn is now a fully fledged member of the online Korean gigs, tickets, travel and shopping mecca that is interpark. Whats more, the purchase of a golden ticket has been made. March 28th. Jason Mraz. Nuff said.

15.56 – I am really, really hungry.

15.58 – Just farted/pumped/guffed/broke wind. They’re all fantastic visual words, my favourite is guffed. I actually believe flatulence shouldn’t be a taboo subject. Of all the bodily functions we’re blessed with, in my humble opinion, there’s none funnier than a well-pitched pump.

16.07 – Mr Jay is still looking out his classroom window. Throughout the course of the afternoon I’ve walked past his room numerous times and I think he’s been in the same position for an hour or so. He looks troubled. I shall post this and go and ask if he’s ok. Maybe one last coffee before catching the bus home.

Thank-you for sharing a Monday with Mr Glenn, it’s not been too eventful but it has been warm and cosy. Maybe tomorrow…

It's not camp

Svetlana is the air hostess on Mr Burns private jet, she does an amicable job of looking after Mr Burns, Homer and Lionel Richie. “My name is Svetlana but you can call me ‘Hey baby’”. Homer makes Lionel Richie sing a version of his song 'say you, say me' about Duff beer.
The quotes that seem to have been thrown in willy-nilly make me laugh the most. I always love watching The Simpsons and English winter camp at Icheon Songkok elementary school, with it’s 12.30 working-day finish, is currently providing ample opportunity for that. The camp is two weeks in duration and should be a chance for me to plan my own lessons and mould the young minds of a smaller group of fresh-faced little people with a more thoughtful approach. The groups are definitely smaller, the record attendance currently standing at six.

The Englishzone will now become my confessions box. Forgive me Father, for my lesson planning is somewhat half-arsed and, in retrospect, I’m not sure how much mind-moulding can be achieved via Tom & Jerry cartoons and powerpoint games of Jepardy (there is a but). But (see), my defense is this. I have a lot of sympathy for the majority of children here in Korea. From a very young age their education and personal development is intense. Even at an elementary school level the little people study for 5/6 hours at school, take regular & important exams, learn two or three musical instruments, take daily sessions of taekwondo or other sports and a very high number get sent on to private schools throughout the afternoon and evenings for further English lessons. From my observations, this intensity and pressure only increases through middle school, high school, college and university.

Like most things in this life, there are two sides to this. On the plus side this creates some highly educated, self-disciplined, intelligent, active and motivated individuals. The flip side may be the reason for a lot of bald Korean men, a population who drink to get drunk & smoke heavily and it’s probably related to how seriously most Korean’s seem to take themselves.

That’s why Mr Glenn is trying to inject some laid back ‘european cool’ into winter camp. These days, the Englishzone can be found blanketed with the background sounds of a Bluenote Jazz album, the desks aren’t in rows and free-talking (in English of course) is encouraged. You know, I might start cycling to school, maybe turn up sporting a moustache and a polo neck…

Bahala na

My winter vacation, by Glenn Billingham aged twenty-four-a-half.

Stepping off a plane in a completely foreign country, alone and having no more than a backpack and the phone number of a stranger was a new feeling on Christmas morning. After two days exploring Hong Kong with new friends, I recieved an un-expected gift. Maybe there is a god, or maybe Father Christmas is real, but someone at Cathay Pacific Airlines decided to give me a free upgrade to business class to Manila. It was beautiful. Within the space of two hours i'd gone from feeling my arse grow in a plush leather seat... to napping on the floor of a bus terminal in downtown Manila.

The phone number belonged to Chaia, a couchsurfer who i'd been e-mailing for a month or so, and after a breathtaking nine hour bus journey north through the Cordellia mountains, i arrived in Baguio and experienced an al-fresco Christmas buffet lunch with Chaia's family. Boxing Day saw another nine hour bus ride through more mountains to a small town called Sagada. It's good to feel scared sometimes. Four hours caving without a harness and having to go barefoot was the scary part, luckily reassurance came from a local guide who slid over the course in pants and flip-flops.

Mr Glenn (me), Chaia and Dan (Chaia's Dutch boyfriend) took in the calming mountain air of Sagada for four days, pretty much hiking, caving and eating. December 28th and 29th saw repeats of those epic bus journeys and i arrived in the city of Manila on December 30th. Two days among the noise, stress and pollution proved to be enough and it was on to Boracay Island early on January 1st. Luggage, check. Dialted pupils, check.The beach is simply a nice place to be. To be able to wake-up and need only a few dollars, a towel, a book and some sunscreen for the next ten hours is a nice feeling. For five days i spent about 90% of my time parralell with the floor, either swimming or soaking up some rays. My efforts must have been worthwhile as the principal at my school has just exclaimed i have a "black mans face". Evenings were spent ambling between restaurants and bars on the sand, all blessed with beanbag seats on the beach, acoustic music, very cheap beer and fairy lights.
After a day stopover in The Philippines 'second city', Cebu, it was on to another island, Bohol. Question: What would you get if you bred a monkey with a goblin? The answer is a tarsier, the smallest primate in the world. Weird. Limited acomodation options on the island saw me staying at a German dive resort where i was one of only three guests, and one of those was Charlie the cat. Four days in Bohol before a two day stay back in Cebu and it was time to fly back to Korea, from 32degrees to -9degrees in one single flight. Horrible.
In 2005, the Filippino people topped a poll stating they're the happiest people in the world. By western standards the majority of people in the Philippines are poor, material possesions are almost non-existent but Filippino's prove this doesn't matter. Instead, they simply cherish and enjoy life's simple pleasures and the people closest to them. The world could learn alot from this mindset. Videoke is a good example, these kareoke machines are everywhere; streetsides, on ferry's, in bars, for 5cents you sing your song and everyone listens and dances, wherever you are. Randomly, and rather brilliantly, i got to perform on stage with one of The Philippines best guitarists, Edgar "koyang" Avenir. One minute i was minding my own business singing along in the shadows of the audiance, the next minute i was being dragged to the stage were i sang in a jazz medele of Beatles songs before playing the djembe.

So... 2008 is already fourteen days old, a belated Happy New Year to one and all. New Year. New. Like a fresh snow waiting for your footsteps. Go on and start writing a journal, learn an instrument, go salsa dancing, volunteer, help a stranger, travel, take lots of photos, scare someone. Rock the casbah. Be the change. This time next year, you'll thank yourself.

And remember, bahala na.