Under her girlish trappings, however, Gaia is a woman. She's nearly in her thirties. She's traveled to Canada; she lived there for a bit back in the day. Her English is excellent. She doesn't like Reading Town, however. She's worked here for quite some time; I think the kids have finally worn her down. She never hesitates to commiserate with us about a particular bad seed or chronic disruptor.
"Rrrrrr," she'll growl in her endearing, husky voice. "I hate him!"
Gaia seems to be a frustrated woman. She lives with her parents in Okpo, the next city over from Gohyeon, about twenty minutes' drive to the east. She is unmarried, and at her age she's within an inch of becoming an old maid. In Korea, if you're not married off by the time you're thirty, it's pretty much a foregone conclusion. After that, your parents step in and arrange a marriage for you. It would be sad by Western standards, but here she's not quite so badly off. First of all, unmarried women are expected to live with their parents, so at least she's got an accepting roof over her head. Second, Gaia doesn't want to be married. She's a free spirit. She's one of the heartiest party-goers among us, and can keep up with all of us when we drink or dance. Indeed, she usually outstrips us. But she's still forced to work at Reading Town, where she's set upon by both the management and the students.
Gaia is the most unpopular teacher at Reading Town. All the kids uniformly hate her. Every time I ask them why, they claim that she's mean and ugly, like some witch. I didn't come up with that simile, either: the kids automatically label any picture of aliens or monsters in our storybooks "Gaia." The going theory among the native teachers is that Gaia is strict, leading to a sharp downturn in her popularity. Nobody ever likes strict teachers, even if they get results. So Gaia whiles her time away, working at a job she dislikes by day, partying hard on weekends (and sometimes, judging by her zombified appearance on some afternoons, weekdays too). She's still friendly as all get-out, though. She's always up for conversation, never hesitates to recommend remedies for ailments or delicious foods to try, and even gave us her number the first time we took a trip to Busan in case ought went amiss. Apparently she's pulled Elaine aside several times and expressed concern that she (Elaine) is wasting away from starvation. "Elaine," she said, in a sentiment echoed by the other female Korean teachers, "you need to eat." She's a cheerful, outgoing sort of person, harangued mercilessly and unjustly by her students, inconvenienced by Korean social expectations (and the occasional weekday morning hangover). I like her.
Widely believed to be the most beautiful by the Reading Town student body, Esther is slightly older than Gaia, and unlike her is married with two children. She has straight black hair that reaches to her shoulders, big almond-shaped eyes, a delicately light skin tone, and a collection of very elegant outfits. I was particularly impressed the day she came in wearing a long grayish-blue pea coat with black leather gloves. Esther is in no way ostentatious, though. She lives in an apartment complex not far from Reading Town with her family. As such (and again, I mean to cast no disparagement whatsoever upon her by noting this) she is usually the first to leave at our get-togethers. She's a family woman, and though she'll still party and drink, her responsibilities are never far from her mind. She's an admirable lady; she seems to have the most aplomb with the students; I've heard Gaia and Erica yelling at their classes, but never Esther. (For the record, I yell too.)
Of all the Korean staff, Esther seems to garner the least criticism from the studentry. (Perhaps this has given rise to the belief that she is the most beautiful while Gaia is the most ugly.) Also unlike the rest of the Korean staff, Esther is a transplant: she's a native of Seoul. Everybody else is from around here, good old Gyeongsangnam-do, with its rough dialect that Esther gently teases Charles about sometimes. Esther is a gentle and benevolent woman. She wouldn't harm a fly. She tests my Korean every now and then, and doesn't slow down unless I ask her to. She's also very complimentary of my language skills. She loves a joke, too. Sometimes she will pretend to be conceited. She and Gaia are like sisters. They talk together and joke together and sometimes even make fun of each other together in English, much to our amusement. Being able to chaff in another language is a weighty achievement indeed. Whenever Charles and I are discussing Korean dialects, and there's mention of the harsher Gyeongsangnam-do dialect, Esther will stick in a pseudo-haughty "My Korean is perfect. I'm from Seoul."
Erica is the oldest female teacher at Reading Town, somewhere in her mid-thirties. She's also the roughest. She's the hardest drinker, the lustiest singer, the fiercest disciplinarian and the most casual dresser. I see her wear work boots and jeans more often than Gaia's trendy togs or Esther's elegant wardrobe. She has a darkish complexion, short black hair (which she curls), and a friendly, toothy smile. She speaks quickly, whether in English or Korean, and I must admit her accent is the most difficult to understand. She, too, does not appear to enjoy her job much. She seems frequently harried, though she's as friendly as the rest. She's always one to give you a big smile or a genuine thank-you. I've heard her out-and-out screaming at some of her more misbehaved students, though. I've found myself wishing I could match her sheer force of will (and lung power).
Erica and I have a special kind of relationship going, I guess. I showed her around my apartment a while back when she was apartment-hunting here in Gohyeon (she, like Gaia, is a native of Okpo, and was commuting here every day until she moved into a new place a few months ago). I also obtained her a bottle of Italian salad dressing from the foreigner's market in Okpo after she expressed an interest in trying some. All of us foreign teachers owe her a lot. She has relatives in Busan (even lived there a while, I believe), and it was she who's given us the most travel advice about moving about in Korea so far. (Charles is fast closing the gap, however...he found me some dirt-cheap flights to Jeju-do and even discovered one deal where you can rent a scooter for a day and sleep in a hotel that night for a combined fee of 40,000 won. Awesome!)
Erica royally saved our butts last September, when we were headed out to Busan for Chuseok. We were originally planning to take the passenger ferry out of Gohyeon; she piped up and told us that that would be impossible. That ferry would be packed to the gills. No seats would be had unless we'd booked months in advance. As we were collapsing in our chairs, resigning ourselves to a sweaty seven-hour bus ride through holiday traffic, she told us of a glorious alternative: take the bus up to the tip of the northernmost peninsula of the island, to the principalities of Guyeong or Nongso, and catch the larger and considerably cheaper car ferry to Busan. This we did, for eighty percent less than we would've paid on the Gohyeon ferry, and for a substantially better view and reduced sailing time, not to mention a more direct route. That was our saving grace; we never would've made it on time and that glorious trip might not have materialized at all (meaning we never would've spent all night drinking beer on the boardwalk overlooking Haeundae Beach and then doused our hangovers in the East Sea the next day).
Erica has many friends, though. She's quite passionate about having fun. As I mentioned, she really knows her way around a noraebang, and seems to know all the good ones in town. She can drink us all under the table and likely would've been the last to leave Charles's housewarming party, along with Gaia and us foreign teachers. She got very sick that weekend, unfortunately, and had to go to the hospital it was so bad. Sometimes none of the teachers at Reading Town seem to have any luck. They've all had some kind of unhappiness or personal tragedy or frustration (or all three) in their lives at some point.
Take Julia, for example. She's one of the newest additions to the staff, along with Charles. She was present at the conference in Changwon (Charles's hometown, remember) where we all met. I'm afraid I really don't know much about her. I believe she is also a native of Gyeongsangnam-do, but where she lived before coming to Reading Town in 2008 is up in the air. I do know that she's married and lives in one of Samsung's huge apartment blocks just down the road to the south, visible from the rooftop of the academy building. She is usually the second one to leave our parties after Esther, but not because she's got a family. Indeed, she would much rather stay out later, but she has a rather clingy husband. The man, I've gathered, is a traditionalist who does not like his wife staying out late after work. Heck, he doesn't even like the fact that she's working at all. He'd rather she stayed home and was his housewife. As a result, they get into the most tremendous fights when she gets home after a bash (by her own admission). I actually heard Julia say last time (at Charles's housewarming party; more about that later), "I'm going to have a big fight with my husband when I get home!"
The following Monday, as she walked into the teacher's room, she raised her fists in triumph and said, "I had a big fight with my husband when I got home!"
She's very amiable, and also quite good-looking. She has short black hair, a very slender build, an attractive yet modest wardrobe and a very soft voice. Her English, along with Charles's, is incredible. But the poor woman seems very tired all the time. I'm not mentioning any particulars, but she had a pregnancy-related tragedy not too long ago, too. I'm not sure how it's affected her. When she reappeared at work after recovering, nobody seemed to notice why she'd been gone. There was no exchange of gifts, nor expression of sympathy as I recall. Everybody just kind of glossed the whole thing over, and we foreign teachers (not wanting to drag the business back up if it had been buried) went along.
Julia never seems to get enough sleep. She also gets off early on Mondays and Wednesdays so she can catch the bus home; she does live a ways out of town. Sometimes, though, the management reneges on this accord and keeps her until the end. Then I don't know what she does. Perhaps Jacob stumps up for cab fare; perhaps not. It just seems like Julia might have the worst lot of all the teachers: a tough job, lack of sleep, a bus ride home, and a nagging husband.
But how could I forget my Geordie coworkers and that Canuck reprobate! I shall now introduce the Newbies, the name for the hard-drinking, hearty-partying clique of wet-behind-the-ears English teachers on Geoje-do. Founding members and acting administration consist of Adam, Elaine, Jeff, and yours truly.
Adam and Elaine hail from the Newcastle region of Northumbria, in Northeastern England. Adam is a youthful, vigorous 25 years old (wink wink) and got his degree in business. Unfortunately, he went and got himself a job in advertising for Maxim magazine. It was brutal work and unfulfilling, and what's worse, he never even caught a glimpse of a single model. Elaine started off in social work but her working environment wasn't ideal (if I can remember what she told me that night we all went to the beach and drank whisky). So they both quit and came here. This is just the start, too. After their contract expires in August they plan to head south to Bali for a while, then make a slow, shrinking spiral through the rest of Southeast Asia: Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia. Should take about seven months, money and visa acquisition permitting. Then they'll head back and get married in the winter of 2010. (I've been invited! Yippee! I'm so honored. A relaxed Geordie wedding, football matches at St. James Park, English breakfasts, Northumbria, the North Sea, downtown Newcastle, and more pubs than you could ever hope to drink dry.)
Adam is as tall as I am, six feet. His face is incessantly covered in stubble; he claims that a completely clean shave wreaks hell on his skin. Seeing as how I cut myself every time I try to shave, no exceptions, I can see his point. Anyway, the stubble suits him. His hair is usually kept short; if it gets too long it starts to get spiky. Elaine is also tall (for a girl) and willowy, with large eyes and short blond hair. Both of them are jolly, profane, and fun-loving, like me. Adam loves meat and Elaine can't stand seafood (although tuna is acceptable).
It goes without saying (heh heh, there's a pun) that A & E both have broad Geordie accents. To clarify, "Geordie" is the slang term for English folk in Northumbria who live along the rivers Tyne and...darn, what's that other river Adam told me about? Rats, I forgot. Wear! That's it. Tyne & Wear. That includes the cities of Newcastle and the surrounding villages, like Tynemouth (Adam's hometown), and farther down along the river and its vicinity. The theories surrounding the origin of the word "Geordie" are multifarious, but the one that sounds most plausible to me goes something like this: when the Scottish were rebelling, they hailed the English folks living around those two Northumbrian rivers (Newcastle and its environs are very, very close to Scotland) and asked them to join the cause. The English folk refused: they said nope, we're going to stick with King George. Hence, they were dubbed Geordies. See?
This is going to sound extremely subjective of me, but I warned you about that in the disclaimer, didn't I? It almost goes without saying that since Adam and Elaine (and Jeff) got here, my life in Korea has become approximately 87 million percent better. We knock around a lot: we frequent our favorite pub (the Local), we go out for sogogi, we head down to Arabian Nights and dance our shoes off, we went hiking up Gyeryongsan, we sampled sannakji (more about that later), and we all went up to Seoul together. They're the most fun people to be around, highly sociable, unendingly hospitable, as friendly as you could hope for and just jolly folk in general.
That goes for Jeff, too. He was raised in Ottawa, Canada. He's been around. He did the Inca Trail in the Andes a while before coming here, and during school vacation at his hagwon (Uniworld) he spent a few days in Borneo, the lucky bugger. Jeff is a tall, skeletally thin fellow with short brown hair and an unexpectedly deep voice. Being from the province that he is (Quebec) he speaks French, though he won't hesitate to tell you that it's Quebec French, somewhat differentiated from French French. Jeff is a good guy. He loves food; he's usually the last one eating when we all sit at a table together and can polish off unholy amounts of food. We left the equivalent of at least three huge Tupperware containers of food on the table at the conclusion of our epic Christmas feast; he polished it all off with his slow, methodical munch. The man's a bottomless pit, of friendliness and adventurousness as well as hunger. He invited us over to his place for fajitas once; he'd managed to smuggle some El Paso mix into the country, as well as procure some miraculous sour cream from the foreigner's market in Okpo. That was an epic feed, rivalling Christmas.
I'm ever so glad we all met, 'cause the four of us really work well together. Whenever we get together we have a tendency to bounce off one another and goad each other on into doing things we wouldn't sanely do; usually this means drinking a lot more than we planned and winding up blind drunk. Good times: those nights in Seoul, or at the top of Gyeryongsan, or in the bars and clubs of Gohyeon. Think of all the symbolic convergence we've created. As Jeff said, "We're going to have a lot of inside jokes that nobody else will understand." That's quite true.
Now I'm going to go play Crackoley. Figure that out if you can.
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