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Published: November 22nd 2011
When I arrived in Korea I was put through an intense week of training (to be magically transformed into a teacher, while having no prior experience). Then I was put in a van, then a bus and sent to Cheongju, The City of Lights, my home for the following year and a half. I was put up in a love motel for a night and then Bethany and I were thrown into a closet that was supposed to be our apartment for a year. It was Renee’s apartment before us. Did you just read that? Renee’s… then ours. Emphasizing the fact that one person lived in the closet for a year and then my employer expected that two people would be happy there when one person barely was. They left us there. Before being dropped off at the closet we visited the school and met Renee. She was drunk at about 11 in the morning. She told Bethany and I that we were going to become alcoholics, that the little boys would try to “look at your dick,” that our owner is referred to as a “black devil,” that the girls would find me to be attractive which would make me
a good teacher, that Korean men beat their wives nearly every night and that we would be awoken every other night from sounds of screams and abuse, that the Korean culture was “backwards,” and that the rest of the employees are hard to get a long with (I wondered why). It wasn’t an exaggeration that 10 minutes after sitting in our new closet, we started to wonder if we made a mistake. We wondered what the hell we got ourselves into.
That was the last time I ever thought Korea was a mistake. In a few minutes we were to meet our new friends. Jen, Ra, Nick, Ben and Jason. They would be the closest thing we would have to a family for the next year. They were exactly what we needed. The OG.
When I think about all of the things I have done in the last 4 years I quickly find a million memories that I will never forget.
Bungee jumping from the tallest bungee in the world. Skydiving over two oceans. Being locked in a den with lions. Driving a scooter on a freeway to Camps Bay for ice cream. Shark cage
diving. Tattoos. Ziplining. Driving from coast to coast, three times. Eating octopus that is still alive. Moving to Korea. Being a teacher. Driving scooters. Going to Japan. Seeing Hiroshima. Going to the Great Wall. Going to Thailand. Going to Taiwan. Going to Jeju. Weekend trips to Seoul. Late night drives to Incheon. Seeing Usain Bolt run. Body surfing at Kogel bay, building levees.
All of those things were cool, but had I not been with my friends while I was doing those things it would have been nearly a waste of time. I can tell you every single person that I was with during those moments. The people I was with, not the activity, defined those moments. Traveling is about seeing but if traveling means seeing things with only one set of eyes then I don’t want to travel. So, coming to Italy was a leap of faith (a lot like South Africa since it was the first time I left my friends and family), not knowing any one over here. But I was sure I would meet some friends at some point. But I was also enjoying being alone and experiencing that for the first time in my
life. But I wasn’t alone for long.
During the second week I was here in Italy, I was picking David up from school when I was playing my first game of “Spot an America” (I assume everyone in a foreign land plays this game, in which they try to find their cultural group amongst a cultural group that is not their own). In Korea, this game is fairly easy. In Italy, it takes a trained eye, or a loud American. Luckily I was trained and found a loud American (I just didn’t know the loud part yet). This game can be played unconsciously or in state of complete concentration. That particular day I was looking, searching for someone who speaks my language, eats my food (figuratively), and wears my clothes (again figuratively). And there in the midst of parents and lost old people I spotted an easy target. It was almost not fun because she was SO American. Rain boots, true religions and a north face jacket. Needle in a hay-stack? Not quite. It did also help that she had the lightest head of hair for a square mile (at least – she was blonde). The unwritten code of
behavior when spotting an expat varies from country to country. In Korea, there was a strict pay no attention, look down and walk the other way approach. It sucked. But I feel that the foreigners were just adapting to the eastern culture and customs (unlikely but that was the nicest thing I could come up with). So, with this experience I wasn’t about to run up to her and start yelling at her with loud English so everyone around us would know that I was an America (or a Brit) and I was overly excited to meet someone that reminded me of home. So I played it cool. Real cool.
The following week something a little more peculiar happened. This obviously American girl decided to make herself more American (without thought). And this nonverbal, subtle declaration of American citizenship made it completely impossible to ignore her for a second longer. She was wearing a Florida State University sweatshirt. I tried to remain somewhat calm and decided to approach her with something witty. All I came up with was, “I couldn’t help but notice your Florida State sweatshirt” (clever, I know). Of course, I probably scared her but I thoroughly
piazza san carlo
our circus friends doing circus tricks.enjoyed her somewhat frantic and panicked response, “You are an American!?!?” Come to find out that not only did she go to Florida State but she was also in the same sorority that Emily was in (briefly) while she was also at FSU. She had dinner with Cari Braun (Emily’s best friend) the week before she left and a few weeks before Cari would fly to Ft. Worth to see Em. She also was an au pair who took care of a kid at that school… that just happened to be in David’s class. Reminds me of running into Kurtis Hahn and Jonas Dunaway in Stellenbosch and meeting Ashleigh Houlten in Boryeong. The world is smaller than we think. And that is how I met my new friend Kacie Carr.
That week would be full of mishaps and unforeseen and unusual circumstances that would keep us from getting together until Thursday (we met on Monday). The next piece of the friendship puzzle is Lindsey. Kacie and Lindsey went to high school together but ended up going to different universities, although staying together through a mutual social group (they both pledged Alpha Delta Pi, Kacie at FSU and Lindsey at
UCF). They came over together but unfortunately Lindsey is leaving us too soon and will be gone from Italy, and our lives in mid December. Before I met Lindsey I had a friend request on facebook and a message on my wall, to say the least Lindsey and I were the best of friends before we were friends. We now have a running story at the bars that her and I are brother and sister.
We met at Buster’s Coffee, the hangout for the next year of my life. It is tucked in between the National Library and Piazza San Carlo (my favorite Piazza). It serves Simpson-esque donuts, Duffy Beer, bagel sandwiches, bad cappuccinos with raspberry upon nonverbal request. Kacie and Lindsey (and sometimes I) can be found in Buster’s every day working on very important work.
The Thursday that we finally met each other on turned into a daylong adventure. After Lindsey went to work Kacie and I went around the close vicinity and I finally took some pictures (she is working on her assistantship, needs further improvement). I included those pictures. Later that night I skipped dinner at the house in Pianezza and took the smartcar
for a little trip to the Metro to head back into Torino for a dinner with “the girls.” Which reminds me, Europe has sucked every ounce of masculinity out of me (althought I didn’t have much to begin with). I have been shaving my legs for years now but a few more things have made me question where my socially determined “manhood” went. I painfully tried to get through The Catcher In The Rye only so I could get to Eat. Pray. Love. I drive cars that closely resemble toys, I am an au pair (watch a kid and clean house all day), tend to over accessorize (including scarves), I admitted to watching Oprah when Liz Gilbert was on, I’ve seen iCarly (iKacie hasn’t), I talk more about my love life than any of the girls (besides Lindsey) and Lucia (David’s grandmother) brought me a 6 pack of Diet Coke’s last night. Does Europe have this effect on everyone? Soon I will purchase a purse (to replace my feminine messenger bag), I am sure of it.
Dinner that night was at Charlie Birds and I ate one of the best pizzas of my life, and half of Lindsey’s. Yes
I have been cycling a bit.
The last two friendship puzzle pieces are in the circus. Or at least will be soon. Literally. Enter F’n Stefan Stratton and Margaret Allen. They are both studying at a circus school here in Torino. The also are known to do circus tricks in bars and back flips in piazzas. F’n and I had a lengthy conversations about our various tattoos and the prospects of our eventual full sleeves (sorry mom). The are also easy to spot at Buster’s due to F’n’s love of neon blue and pink. He is currently in the process of building a bike (a fixie). I cannot express how excited I am to now have two circus friends.
After a 4-hour, 92km ride into the Alps (15km from France, I’m getting closer) I headed back into Torino and had a great night with Lindsey, Kacie and our circus friends. We met more Americans, the girls looked up a kilt to find nothing (but a bare ass), talked about past loves, tatts, family, and to two of Lindsey’s new best friends who will be heading to Orlando to work at Disney, before having to catch a ride home
with the rents at 12:30. The earliest I have been home in a while and riding in the back seat home early reminded me of junior high. But that is the life I signed up for and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Meeting new people is also a part of that life I signed up for.
In the last week I have found new friends, reached out to some old ones (hopefully poured some water on) and now will be able to see Italy and some of Europe through some eyes that aren’t my own.
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Paul
non-member comment
I think this is my favorite one yet. pg