Feb. 25 A City Employee Again

My second week in Deajeon began very auspiciously with my taking my first big bag of garbage out on my way to work on Monday. I thought it was supposed to go in the parking garage under the building, since there are recycling bins there (Korea is very big on recycling) as well as bags of general garbage. But when I tried to put my bag with the others, the parking attendant yelled at me and told me to put my bag outside. At least, I assumed that was what he was saying by his gestures. So I followed the exit lane out of the garage, being careful not to get run over or to drop the garbage and sure enough, there are dumpsters there where my garbage can go (and also more bins for recyclables: glass, plastic, paper.) So garbage duty should be a pretty simple process from here on, especially since I can get to the outdoor dumpster without having to go through the parking garage.

Then I went across the street to the convenience store to buy a bus pass. The woman who was working there understood what I wanted, but we had quite a long and animated conversation (in Korean) (which only one of us understood) about which kind of bus pass I wanted--the card type or the electronic type. I decided on the electronic type because it is definitely cooler, even if a bit more expensive (W6000 instead of W2500 for the card.) The electronic pass is a little plastic bob with an RFID chip that you can charge up by paying money (at the convenience store) and then you just slap it against the card reader when you get on the bus or subway. I'm not sure how the card type works, but mine is definitely the way to go. Since I now have zillions of Won in my bank account (Friday was payday), I splurged and had a whole W20,000 put on my pass. That means I can take the bus or subway 20 times without having to pay! I’m a travelin’ man.

When I got to work on Monday I found out that my transfer to the Economic Policy Division of the Economy and Science Bureau had come through. All my friends in the Office of International Affairs and Education were quite sad to see me leave and wished me safe passage, although I assured them that I was only moving four floors down and would be back to pester them regularly (which I have been.) As though to console me, they presented me with my official Deajeon Metropolitan City employee identification card. Now that I have it, they said, I no longer need to carry my passport (which I never carry anyway.)

The manager of my new division, Mr. Kim, not to be confused with the manager of my old division, Mr. Kim, lives in the same apartment building (transient housing structure) as me. His wife and children are in Seoul, so he goes back to spend the weekends with them. His English is actually quite good and we have talked about getting together in the evening for dinner after work, but for him, after work is like 9 or 10 o’clock. I’m usually asleep by then. (I told him I could not invite him over for dinner, as I had only one box to sit on; he said he had a box in his place as well. But he was surprised that my apartment came equipped with a hot pot for boiling water: “You are a rich man,” he said.)

So instead of dinner with Mr. Kim, I decided to strike out on my own and find a little neighborhood place where I can become a regular. After poking around a few likely spots, I wandered into a hole-in-the-wall café a block from my building. I asked the waitress if she spoke any English. “Little,” she said. So I proclaimed in my much-practiced Korean that I am a vegetarian. This time something must have come through, because she looked at me and said, “Vegetables?” Yes, we were on the right track. So she sat me down at a table, handed me a menu, opened it, and pointed to a picture of a dish of rice and vegetables with the English language description, “Rice and vegetables.” In fact, the whole menu had pictures and English captions. Who knew dining could be this easy? And right around the corner! Unfortunately, the food wasn’t particularly good, but being both shy and somewhat lazy, I am sure I’ll be back.

Other highlights of my week have included lunch in a traditional Korean restaurant (meaning sitting cross-legged on the floor) with my old team-mates from the Office of International Affairs and Education (a delicious tofu and snail soup with kimchi and the usual assortment of side dishes), lunch with my new cohorts from the Economy and Science Bureau in a traditional Korean restaurant (rice with vegetables with kimchi and an even larger assortment of side dishes) and lunch in the City Hall cafeteria again (squid and mystery vegetables with rice, etc.) And now that I have my official Daejeon Metropolitan City employee identification card, I even get a discount when I buy lunch.

Some people who have visited other Asian cities have asked me about traffic in Daejeon. I have to say it is surprisingly light and very orderly, especially compared to places like Hanoi or Bangkok. Drivers stay in their own lanes, obey traffic signals (except for egregiously running red lights, which everyone seems to expect and accept), honk only when provoked, and even watch out, more or less, for pedestrians. It’s not uncommon to see cars stop for people crossing in a crosswalk mid-block. The traffic signals are interesting too. At each intersection with a traffic light, traffic proceeds from only one direction at a time. That is, cars headed east have a green light. Then cars headed south. Then north. Then west. That means that a red light can last for a pretty long time, but once it’s your turn, you can pretty much do what you want—left, right, or straight ahead. Just don’t hit somebody in a cross walk!

Feb. 22 Please Refrain

I feel like I’m starting to get the hang of this Daejeon living. In fact, I went to a large department store, looked around, took the elevator to the 9th floor where the restaurants are, and went inside one for lunch. I pointed at a picture of what I wanted—a picture of a rice dish in a stone pot with vegetables, meat, and a raw egg that cooks when you stir everything together because the pot is so hot—and said in my very best Korean, “I am a vegetarian,” which I hoped my waitress would understand to mean, leave out the meat. However, I think I must actually have been saying “Good oxen knit sox in the kitchen” or something, because every time I repeated it, she looked more confused. Finally she found a young woman at another table to interpret for me. After that everything was fine, the food was delicious, and I think everyone was quite relieved when I paid my bill and left.

I also discovered a very disturbing sign in the elevator in my apartment building—really just a small sticker above the elevator door. It says “Please refrain from copulating in the elevator.” I find this very disturbing on a number of levels: first, that they would need to post a reminder like this at all, second that in typical Korean fashion they would be so polite about it, and third, that the sticker is only in English. Given the starkness, emptiness, and general silence of my building, it’s about the last thing I would have guessed anyone would have to worry about. Fortunately, the sticker is only in one elevator out of four, so I’m hoping that means it was put there by some English-speaking resident (perhaps an Australian) as a joke.

On Saturday I went for a run along the river. The running path is well maintained and quite long—just how long, I don’t know, and will probably never find out. Lots of people were out walking and bicycling, but I only saw one other runner. It felt good to work my muscles again after sitting and lying around for so many days. Also, now I don’t feel so bad about how much I am eating.

In the afternoon I went to the Expo Park, about an hour’s walk to the north. This is the site of an international exposition held in Daejeon in 1993. The focal point is the Tower of Light, a spire dedicated to light with lots of signage inside, some in English, about how the 21st Century (only seven years away!) will no doubt shine light on the solutions to all humanity’s problems, or

something. I want up in the observation deck (W2,500) for a look around. I was the only one there. Afterwards I walked around the site, which consists of lots of giant spheres and glass pyramids and statues of famous scientists surrounded by large shrubberies with scary faces, some of which appear ready to attack and eat the scientists. There is also a large exhibition hall which, from the frightening pictures on the outside and the loud roars rolling out from within, appears to be dedicated to the memory of huge carnivorous dinosaurs. Lots of small children were eager to go in, but I passed it by.

On Sunday I decided I had to try to take the bus somewhere, so I chose the Yuseong Spa district as it is very famous, plus that’s where one of the buses that runs right in front of my apartment building goes. (I am not up for lesson 2: “transferring” yet.) (As a matter of fact, there is no transfer if you pay cash. You just get off, get on another bus, and pay again. If you use an electronic transit card, you get a free transfer. I should think about getting one of those cards.) Anyway, it was pretty easy to get on the bus. They even have little readerboards at each bus stop to tell you how long till the next bus arrives (for each bus number that stops there. My bus stop has four different routes.) I got off at the right place, walked around Yuseong, which wasn’t that interesting on a Sunday morning in the rain, except that I did manage to find the Express Bus station where I can catch a bus to Seoul or Incheon, and had a coffee and pastry to warm up. Then I took the bus home. There’s also a subway stop near my apartment and one right in Yuseong, which would have been a lot faster, but I was afraid I would not know where to get off. On a bus you can look for familiar sites, but underground, I’m guessing you have to rely on some automated voice saying the name of a stop in a way that you can understand it, or I suppose counting the stops until you reach the one you think you want. Anyway, maybe I’ll try that next.

Feb. 20 The End of Week 1

One week down already. It seems so much longer than that! People keep asking me, “Don’t you miss your wife?” It’s hard to answer that question without sighing. Being here has really reinforced for me how much I rely on Patti to always be there, to comfort me, to give me a push when I need it, to laugh at my stupid jokes. We email one another, usually several times a day, and have installed Skype on our computers so that we can actually talk—although with the time difference, a chat has to be carefully scheduled. We even bought web cams so we can look at each other when we converse. (Gosh, that’s one application of technology that actually makes our lives better!) But it’s still not the same as being together. I knew it would be hard, but I don’t think I really anticipated what it would mean hour by hour, day by day. I’m counting the days till she comes for a visit. I know that’s being in the future, not in the present, and therefore not Zen-like, but tough.

On Wednesday I had lunch with Mr. Kang Yeon-Yong and Mrs. Kim Ae-Lan of the International Affairs and Education Office. We went to a traditional Korean restaurant very near my apartment. Traditional means sitting on the floor, using chopsticks to try to pick up long, slippery noodles out of a huge bowl of bright red broth and transport them to my mouth without dropping them or dripping into my lap. I have noticed that while many restaurants have boxes of small paper napkins (usually about six inches square) on the table, these do not go in the lap. Thus, pants, especially suit pants, as well as shirts, ties, and coats, go unprotected. In order to minimize the potential for serious damage to my wardrobe (which is pretty limited to begin with), I scrunched as close to the table as I could, twisting my old, stiff legs into pretzels. I also finally cheated, transferring gobs of noodles first into a small side bowl, then holding this bowl close under my chin and then using the chopsticks to simply lift the noodles up into my mouth. I have read that this is very un-Korean, but I noticed that my host, Mr. Kang, began to do the same. I’m not sure whether that was because he normally eats that way, or if it was just to commit the same transgression as me in order to alleviate some of my shame. So much culture, so little time! After lunch it took me about ten minutes to stand up again and a half an hour to shuffle along on throbbing legs the two blocks to City Hall. Later we all ate a huge box of assorted rice-cakes that had been sent as a gift by a school.

Thursday morning I somehow convinced my landlady to come to my apartment to get my stove and microwave work. She found a circuit that needed resetting and also kindly reset the thermostat so that it will be a comfortable 80 degrees at all times. I’ll have to figure out how to turn that back down. Anyway, it will be nice to be able to cook some noodles and vegetables on the stove, rather than relying on my hot pot.

I also went into the office for a few hours, even though it was one of my days off, because I had to meet with Mr. Cho and Mrs. Kim and Miss Park to discuss a brochure that we are working on. While I was there, I decided to have lunch in the City Hall Cafeteria. It’s quite the set-up. The cafeteria is a huge room with rows and rows of tables and chairs. There are basically two menu choices (written in Korean, obviously) so you get in line for whichever choice you prefer: line A is along the north side of the room, line B along the south side. When you get to the food, you pick up a tray with various concavities and that’s where you put your food—a ladle of rice, a couple of different kinds of kimchi, some teokbokki noodles, a strange meat patty if you are not a vegetarian. You grab the traditional long-handled metal spoon and metal chopsticks, they hand you a bowl of soup, and you go find a place to sit. The best part is that payment (3,000 Won, about $2.30) is made by tapping a smart card (a credit card with an RFID chip) against a card reader and then taking the printed receipt that pops out so it can be dropped in the box by the soup. As the foreigner, I have to pay cash to get my receipt.

Friday it snowed so I went to the little espresso shop on the 20th floor of City Hall, bought a latte (1,000 Won—no wonder Starbucks is having problems) and read my favorite book, The Confidence Man: His Masquerade, by Herman Melville. It seems so appropriate for these chaotic times. I also went to the discount store and bought a real pillow to substitute for the traditional Korean pillow that my landlady had provided which I am sure is very comfortable once you get used to it but which feels to me like a large brick wrapped in a very thin towel.

Feb 17 Why are you here?

My second day of work began with my arriving at the office a good ten minutes early. I don’t want anyone to think that we Americans are slackers. Of course, everyone else was already there, hard at work. I was warmly greeted with “Why are you here?” This confused me. “Because I work here?”

There followed a lengthy discussion about which days I was supposed to work in order to complete my part-time obligation of 20 hours per week. I thought we had agreed on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. (Yes, I know, three eight or nine hour days is more than 20 hours, but we’re talking Korea here.) Others had other opinions. Finally, we agreed that I would in fact work Monday through Wednesday and would come in on Thursday and Friday as needed, or if I felt like it.

I started work on revising the information brochure for foreigners but was interrupted by my friend Cho Han-sic who showed me the online publication in the Daejeon Post of yesterday’s interview. http://www.djpost.kr/detail.php?number=2193&thread=22r11 Because the interview is in Korean, I’m not sure what I’m quoted as saying, but I assume there is no relation to my being denied a residency application later this morning.

Whether I need to apply to the Immigration Office for a Certificate of Foreign Registration has been a hot topic of discussion the last day or so. Based on information that is in the booklet I am editing and a fairly clear explanation on the Daejeon City website, I was pretty sure I didn’t need one; only foreigners who are staying longer than 90 days must apply. Since I have a 90 day visa, I don’t have to register. Finally, my hosts agreed.

However, the City of Daejeon wants to provide medical insurance coverage for me while I am working here, which is nice. And in order to cover a foreign national, that person must be registered with the Immigration Office. So, after many phone calls to the Immigration Office, it is determined that registration for me is optional and I should choose to register so I can be covered by insurance.

The Immigration Office is across town and, since everyone else is busy, Miss Park is chosen to take me there. Miss Park looks about fourteen, she very softly speaks very little English, and she admits to being terrified of having the foreigner entrusted to her. We move the large stuffed animals from the passenger’s seat of her car and head out.

At the Immigration Office, Miss Park has various conversations with people at various desks and on her cell phone. Then we fill out the Certificate of Foreign Registration form; I complete some parts in English and she writes other sections in Korean. I notice that she has filled out the section called “Reason for Application.” I fear she has put down something like “This man may be an axe murderer; please do not let him stay in our country.”

Anyway, we take a number and sit down in a large room that looks sort of like a driver’s license renewal office, except that if you fail your driver’s license test, they don’t generally deport you. Our number is called, we go to the appropriate booth, and, after lengthy discussions in Korean and English, it is determined that I am not eligible to register because my visa is for only 90 days. Very sorry.

Poor Miss Park is mortified that she has wasted my morning and so, rather than returning to the office to work, she takes me across the street to buy me some lunch. I try to point out that it is only 11:00. We have poguki, which is a sort of mixture of vegetables and thick round noodles in a spicy tomato sauce. My nose immediately starts to run.

Back at the office there is general commiseration around my failure to get registered but a pledge to find some sort of work-around. Then several people want to take me out to lunch, because Miss Park has assured them that I did not eat all that much. I convince them that tomorrow is another day and I am happy to actually get some work done while they take their lunch hour. But first, I brush my teeth.

My big event in the afternoon was opening a bank account at Hana Bank, which has a branch in City Hall. Even though I have no Certificate of Foreign Registration, the process was actually pretty fast and efficient. Mr. Cho Jungjae, my guardian, assisted me and afterwards bought me a traditional Korean tea with chopped filberts to celebrate. Now I can receive my pay through direct deposit, just like a real city employee, instead of being handed bricks of cash every month.

My street at night--on the way home from work!

Feb 16 First Day at Work

Today was my first day on the job. I actually met with the Mayor Park Seoung-hyo, then met with both deputy mayors, one for administration, Kim Hong-Gab, and one for political affairs, Kim Young-Kwan. I also met with the Ambassador and Special Advisor on International Affairs to the Mayor, Choo Yeon-Gon. (He actually was an ambassador—to El Salvador and some other Latin American countries—before joining Daejeon City.)

And of course, I met with Mr. Kim and all his managers in the International Affairs and Education Office, where I will be working. They showed me a newspaper article with my picture in it. All of these meetings, which involved drinking tea, took pretty much the whole morning. What I learned from my morning is that my being in Daejeon is actually kind of a bigger deal than I thought it was and unfortunately, I’m going to have to be on my best behavior, such as it is.

At lunch the Ambassador and several people from the office took me to a traditional Korean restaurant where we had a multi-course meal, most of which was actually vegetarian. Korean group eating is pretty fun because everyone just reaches across the table, snags whatever they want with their chopsticks from the dozen or so platters and bowls of stuff. It’s not like you have your own plate or anything—everyone is eating directly from the communal dishes, all of which are rather mysterious looking. It’s not for the squeamish or timid.

I quickly impressed everyone with my ability to drop things on the table while using chopsticks. The Ambassador also very diplomatically corrected me regarding using my handkerchief to wipe my nose at the table. It’s not done in Korea, considered quite disgusting, apparently. He compared it to talking with food in one’s mouth, which he pointed out is quite acceptable in Korea but not in the west. This will be a problem for the next twelve weeks or so, because a lot of Korean food is pretty spicy and spicy food makes my nose run. I’m basically screwed. He also suggested strongly that I learn the Korean alphabet, which I have now set out to do.

After lunch Mr. Cho Jungjae wandered over to my desk and asked me if I had a toothbrush! “Yes, in my apartment.” “Not here?” “No.” In about thirty seconds he reappeared with a new toothbrush and a large tube of toothpaste for me. It was quickly obvious that everyone in the office (and by inference, everyone in Daejeon) brushes their teeth immediately after lunch. So now I have a new and positive dental hygiene habit.

With sparkling teeth I began my mastering of the Korean alphabet and was immediately interrupted to be interviewed by two reporters from the Daejeon Post, the local newspaper. Fortunately, Cho Han-sic, (a different Mr. Cho and a really bright guy, served as my interpreter. I’m confident he was able to modify my answers during the translation so that I said whatever I should have said instead of what I actually said. Then the city photographer came to take some pictures to send to the paper. That was my suggestion; the picture they have been using is the one I included with my Daejeon employment application, a snapshot Patti took for me one morning before I had even shaved. (This was during one of my darker periods in preparing for Daejeon.)

Finally I got to spend some time doing my first actual assignment, editing a booklet for foreigners about living in Daejeon. I find that I’m actually taking a personal interest in some of the content. A little after 6 Mr. Lee Lim-Moo, the manager of the Creativity and Management Section of the Planning and Management Office, who had spent six months working at the Seattle Engineering Department, came by to ask me to have dinner with him. About 6:30 we left. We were the first to leave.

February 15: Arrival in Daejeon

I arrived at Incheon Airport just outside of Seoul at about 6 p.m. local time on Friday the 13th after an easy 12 hour flight.

I don’t know how you feel about going through customs and immigration after a long day in the air, but it’s pretty high up on my list of “ways I will punish mine enemies.” But the process in Incheon was the smoothest and easiest I’ve ever encountered. They actually let me into Korea!

When I came out of customs, Mr. Cho from Daejeon city government was waiting to meet me. We got into the van driven by Mr. Wu, also of Daejeon, and sped off into a monumental traffic jam.

Mr. Cho informed me that the drive to Daejeon, to the south of Seoul, would take about three hours by toll road. Given that it was already after midnight in Seattle, that was not welcome news, but Mr. Cho and I chatted as Mr. Wu finally broke free of the congestion. I have no recollection of what we talked about.

Halfway to Daejeon, of course, it was time to stop at a rest area (meaning food court) for some dinner. That was a good idea, since I had only eaten three times on the plane. Instead of McDonalds and Taco Bell, the food court consisted of people making actual food, usually involving rice or noodles. I had a plate of noodles with black bean sauce and a side dish of pickled radishes. That was 3500 Won (W3500), or a little less than three dollars.

After our meal Mr. Cho and Mr. Wu hung around outside having a smoke and then we were on our way again.

We pulled into Daejeon about 10 p.m. (that’s 5 a.m. in Seattle) and I got to meet my new landlady and sign the lease for my apartment. This mainly involved sitting around having tea and then my forking over W5,750,000. Yes, that‘s right, almost six million Won. Most of that—five million—is a “security deposit” which I was repeatedly assured I would get back when I leave. Of course, the lease was in Korean, so I might actually have promised to give them another five million next week, who knows? The remainder of the payment covered my first month’s rent and the obligatory “realtor’s fee,” the realtor being the landlady. Cash only, please, which meant that before leaving Seattle, I had to convert almost five thousand dollars into Won and then carry around six bricks of bills (the largest Korean note is 10,000) stashed in my pockets and laptop bag. It’s a system that seems to work quite well for everyone but the renter.

My apartment, on the 9th floor of the Hyundai Officetel, consists of a large room with a large bed, a desk, and a sort of box on wheels to sit on; a bathroom; and a kitchen area with a refrigerator, microwave, sink, and small cooking surface. The bed is hard and comfortable. The landlady generously contributed a pillow and blanket for the bed, and the Mayor of Daejeon provided a bouquet of flowers. Very nice.

On Saturday Mr. Cho volunteered to take me shopping so I could pick up a few things for my apartment. I met him in front of the building about 10 a.m. and we drove the two blocks to City Hall, parked, and went up to the 11th floor, where I will be working. There we had tea and waited for one of the women who works there. She would also be accompanying us—because, as Mr. Cho noted, it is good to have a woman along when buying things for the kitchen.

She arrived, we had more tea, and then drove to the shopping mall which is about a ten minute walk from my apartment. I bought a frying pan, some utensils, some soups and noodles and cooking oil, oranges, yogurt, broccoli, carrots, tofu, a couple of bowls—the usual stuff for setting up housekeeping. I was quite glad to have the help, because, while I recognize broccoli and oranges, a lot of packaged food is pretty mysterious if you can’t read the writing. The Korean alphabet is still impenetrable for me, and even if I could sound out the characters, I wouldn’t know what the words meant. I’m sure all that will change quickly.

We brought the goods back to my apartment and I was ready to crash, but was instructed that we all now had to go out for lunch. This consisted of driving to City Hall, walking to the restaurant, sitting cross-legged on the floor (which I am not very good at) and eating a large bowl of rice with various seaweed and jellyfish parts (which I am very good at.)

In the afternoon, alone and dazed, I wandered around my neighborhood a bit (not too far! I’m very afraid of getting lost, since I can’t read any of the street signs and all the buildings look the same to me.) Most of the stores and shops are very Korean, meaning I have no idea what they do or sell, but there does seem to be a sort of “western” strip across the street: the Paris Baguette, Hans & Bean (Coffee and Cake), Tous Les Jours, and on the corner, a tall building with a North Face store and a Starbucks. I took some pictures.

Today, Sunday, I wandered farther and still somehow made it home. In keeping with my commitment to be as Korean as possible while in Daejeon, I even bought a baguette at Paris Baguette. Pretty good, actually!