The school at which I work decided to move its base of operations to new grounds. It's no bother that my morning commute has been upgraded from a 200 meter to a 20 minute walk. The new building is a fantastic thing on the third floor of a seven story building. We occupy one floor and it's all clean and new and it has central air-conditioning. Winning,
Funnily enough the old building is en-route to the new place during my morning and evening commutes. The forlorn four-story building, I imagine, looks down at me and wonders what it did to be left feeling so empty. Shame, the poor bugger.Now an attentive person might be asking, "Why have you moved buildings, boet?" It's a long and boring answer so let's leave that sleeping dog lie. The idea behind the move, apparently, was to generate a little public interest. So far it has worked. Just in my classes I have about three new students. The idea of 'upgrading' in Korea isn't so much about what has actually changed/improved than it is about what looks to have changed. That reminds me of a quick story...
*
Two farmers are tlking to each other while leaning on opposite sides of a pick-up truck. The first farmer has come to visit the second at his place. Their conversation has led them to a momentary spat of competition. Farmers are normally very good at fencing in their pride, but sometimes the kraal (corral) let's out one or two tollies (cattle calves) by mistake.
The new building has a rudimentary world map drawn upon one of its walls. At the end of the first Friday in the new building one of my classes finished a couple minutes early. I took the opportunity to give a brief geography lesson using said rudimentary map. At the end of said geography lesson Hanna, a tiny ball of limitless enthusiasm, asks, "Chris Teacher, where is your country?" I pointed to the country that houses the Great(est) Fish River and towns that have names like Bathurst and Butterworth. Hanna then asks me to show her pictures of this great land, to which I complied. After flicking through an album she looks up and says, "Chris Teacher, where are all the apartments?" Like the next image suggests, the question wasn't an unfounded one. These apartment buildings in Korea are more common than duiweltjies (a thorn in South Africa) on a lawn at your friend's house.
Funnily enough the old building is en-route to the new place during my morning and evening commutes. The forlorn four-story building, I imagine, looks down at me and wonders what it did to be left feeling so empty. Shame, the poor bugger.Now an attentive person might be asking, "Why have you moved buildings, boet?" It's a long and boring answer so let's leave that sleeping dog lie. The idea behind the move, apparently, was to generate a little public interest. So far it has worked. Just in my classes I have about three new students. The idea of 'upgrading' in Korea isn't so much about what has actually changed/improved than it is about what looks to have changed. That reminds me of a quick story...
*
Two farmers are tlking to each other while leaning on opposite sides of a pick-up truck. The first farmer has come to visit the second at his place. Their conversation has led them to a momentary spat of competition. Farmers are normally very good at fencing in their pride, but sometimes the kraal (corral) let's out one or two tollies (cattle calves) by mistake.
"Boet," the first said, "I don't want to boast but my son has just upgraded to Grade Two."
"Swaerie," replied the second, not to be outdone, "my son just upgraded to the u9A rugby side."
"Boet, let's not compare kids" said the first again, doing a little damage control, "let's compare plowing methods."
"Swaerie," replied the second, back-pedaling a bit, "so long as mine can get in on a frosty morning, I'm happy."
Silence ensues and the farmers are reminded they are but equals and friends.
*
*
The new building has a rudimentary world map drawn upon one of its walls. At the end of the first Friday in the new building one of my classes finished a couple minutes early. I took the opportunity to give a brief geography lesson using said rudimentary map. At the end of said geography lesson Hanna, a tiny ball of limitless enthusiasm, asks, "Chris Teacher, where is your country?" I pointed to the country that houses the Great(est) Fish River and towns that have names like Bathurst and Butterworth. Hanna then asks me to show her pictures of this great land, to which I complied. After flicking through an album she looks up and says, "Chris Teacher, where are all the apartments?" Like the next image suggests, the question wasn't an unfounded one. These apartment buildings in Korea are more common than duiweltjies (a thorn in South Africa) on a lawn at your friend's house.
The standard style for these apartment buildings.
And then I had myself a very chilled Seoul excursion over the weekend.
Clockwise from Top Left: Tteokbokki, Blood Sausage, Fried Sweet Potato, Kimbap and Bread Soup
Changdeokgung Gate
Jeon Eundok hanok
Ewha Women's University
Socially Acceptable Public Exhibitionism
Comments
Post a Comment