Day three: Porky, shoes, and washing machines

Leaving school today, I was thinking today was the best day so far. Spoiler alert: Of course it proceeded to go downhill from there. But let's start with school.

I had two great classes -- one of my students who yelled, "Reading is bad!" yesterday earned the best student star for the day. I couldn't help but smile as he kept running out of breath trying to retell a story.

I also found out I might be doing one-on-one tutoring after my classes a few days a week with the girl I mentioned previously as "Pokey." Apparently, however, the school spells her name "Pocky" and her parents spell it "Porky." Today, I met her over a high-stakes game of Candyland. She refuses to speak a word of English and evidently runs away whenever she thinks she's done. I've been told to let her run away; she knows her way home. Another item to add to the list of things that wouldn't fly in the U.S.

Another difference: In Korean homes, traditional restaurants, and other traditional attractions, everyone takes off their shoes in the entryway and either proceeds barefoot (in your home) or puts on slippers/house shoes that are only worn inside the building. I was surprised to find out this also happens in the schools. So, when we enter the school, we take off our shoes and put on slippers (guest slippers for me until I bought my own yesterday).

My shoes in the entryway and shower shoes in the bathroom at my apartment.

Even more surprising for me was that the kids don't even wear slippers -- they are barefoot in school all day! It's very strange to see kids running around school with no shoes on... I wonder if this practice holds up in high schools... Anyway, when we go into the bathrooms or kitchen, we switch from slippers to shower shoes that are either in a cabinet nearby or sitting on the floor. It can be a bit inconvenient, but I can see the benefits. I've been told this custom exists because Koreans often sit, eat, and sleep on the floor. I can tell you one thing: their floors are immaculate.

So after school, I took a bus home with another English teacher then walked to my building. I was supposed to meet a friend at my apartment so we could go to dinner. The elevator ride to the tenth floor was grueling due to a combination of a busy afternoon and a liter bottle of water. Fellow teachers will understand. I unlocked my door, but it wouldn't open. I tried locking and unlocking it again. Nothing. I figured one of the other locks must have snapped shut when I closed the door. Shit.

Downstairs, I mimed to the typical-old-Korean-man landlord that I couldn't open my door and we proceeded upstairs. This elevator ride was much better as it consisted of him rattling off every English word he knows: Obama, New York, Seattle. Over and over again. 

He eventually came to the same conclusion I did, told me what I did, probably called me a dumbass, and pointed a lot. Back downstairs in his office/home, we called my principal (who now thinks I'm a dumbass), then the "key engineer," who turned out to be a lady I presume is a relative of some kind. She used a special key to unlock the extra lock and voila, my apartment. 

She walked right in (taking off her shoes, of course) and over to my washer. This was especially weird since I had spent roughly an hour trying in vain to get it open this morning... My parents can attest to this as they were on Skype and Googling how to open my washer. This lady pulled and pushed every knob and button on the contraption, then called up the old man, who did the same. They made no less than four phone calls and spent about half an hour trying to figure it out.

The old-Korean-man squat in action

Three Americans, two Koreans, multiple Googles, and several phone calls later -- I will not be washing clothes any time soon. And my friend missed me in the commotion and/or stood me up.

Oh well, at least I finally got to pee. And thus it was declared: COMFORT FOOD MACARONI NIGHT.