When Doing Good Goes Bad

At six o’clock tonight I was on my way home from a nice, relaxing sojourn at a local cafe, complete with unadulterated wifi access.  I had planned to finally check out the park behind my apartment building because it has been uncharacteristically cool, yet sunny, today.  For once my feet are not swollen beyond recognition from the humidity.  On my way home I bump into this new girl who showed up at work yesterday–her English is awful and as it turns out, she was never interviewed by the school.  She’ll probably get fired fairly damn quickly, but in the meantime she’s here.  Unfortunately she got dropped off last night with zero instruction on how to get anything done.  She’s actually lived in Korea for a month or so but she was teaching at some summer camp in a really enclosed environment where she lived in a dorm and ate in a cafeteria, so she does not know a single word of Korean.  Not.  One.  Word.

Amusingly, she is trying to go to Seoul tomorrow to meet family, though she does not know a single word of Korean.  She asked for some direction on how to do this last night when she stopped in to meet all of us at work, and one of the guys there gave her some rough instructions.  But this is akin to trying to tell someone how to get from Toronto to Mississauga, or New York to the Hamptons, but without being able to speak a word of English and with zero knowledge of bus schedules, subway lines or how to even say where you presently live in the language of the land.

When I bumped into her she was lamenting this fact and asking about getting to Seoul, so I offered to at least write down for her the names of the streets in the intersection closest to our apartment complex, in Hangul (Korean script), in case she got a cab driver who spoke no English at all.  I also found the phrase “at the intersection of” in my handy Korean phrase doo-dad on my iPod and wrote it down phonetically for her.

During this incredibly drawn out exchange, the new guy who showed up about a week ago–let’s call him Rick–came walking down the street.  We hailed him and she explained her plight again and I noticed a strange thing happening:  she would address questions to both of us and he would address answers to me.  Soon I figured out what he was doing:  making sure he absolutely did not get involved.  Now I get it, but on the other hand I was clearly pleading for help non-verbally and for all the shit he’s asked me to explain, both at school and at home in the past week, he could afford to fucking it pay it forward a bit.  This is a dude who knocked on my door at 11:30am on a Saturday morning (woke me up, right after he woke up one of the neighbours with the same stunt and was basically told to go away) and then proceeded to ask me an hour’s worth of questions, which I answered with no problem.  Then I let him sit in my place and use wifi so he could e-mail his parents. He’s also a bit of a stress puppy so it’s not like you can just tell him “don’t worry about this” and he leaves it alone.  He brings it up four more times until he’s finally at ease about it.  Which makes you want to throttle him (if you’re me).  Anyway, I’ll be giving him the old “fuck you” next time he needs something.  Needless to say, long before we finished figuring out how to write out our street name in Hangul, he beat a hasty retreat.  Ironically he was actually heading to where she was going and could have gone with her, but he wasn’t waiting around for that.

So even though I wanted to chill out, go to the park, do some writing and then do groceries late at night (as I always do) to avoid the insane, crazy-making crowds at the grocery store, when I bumped into her I felt a certain amount of compassion.  I couldn’t help but remember how overwhelmed I was upon arrival and how lost I would have been without my neighbours.  So I tell her to come back up the road and show me where she lives so I can pick her up for work on Tuesday. Then I show her where I live and then agree to go grocery shopping with her right then.

On the way there though, she announces that she’s hungry so we stop off for dinner first even though I have perfectly good leftovers in my fridge and I am burning though funds fast.  We then go to the grocery store where it becomes apparent she must have almost no money (despite having spent almost no money at her last gig because even her food was covered), because every last purchase is a national event.  Toilet paper is a ten-minute talking point (she ultimately decides to buy it at the 7/11 so she can buy it in smaller quantity).  We spend half an hour with me convincing her to spend $5.00 on a knife, fork and spoon set rather than assuming she will never use utensils (especially since she can’t use chopsticks yet) or that somehow spending over $3.00 on plastic forks and spoons is a better deal.  Then, she keeps repeatedly asking me if she should buy the set that is clearly made for children or the set clearly made for adults.  I finally tell her she’s a grown woman and that’s really her choice since the only difference is size and design–not function.  It’s also a major decision for her whether or not to buy a paring knife.  To me this is one of the first purchases you make when you move. Always.  I had to convince her that it would come in handy.  It becomes clear very quickly that this is someone who should never live away from her parents, let alone in a foreign country where she doesn’t speak the language.

In any event, I am fucking drained after spending FIVE HOURS with her. Sweet kid but she will probably not keep this job since I have students whose English is as good as hers.  She’s a Canadian citizen, but English is far from her first language.  She’s just applying for an E2 (teaching) visa now and I have the impression she won’t be able to get it based on how few years she’s lived in Canada (12).  But who knows.  She asked me what my plans are for tomorrow.  I was necessarily vague.

The recruiting firm that I used (and I hate these people with an enormous passion) have taken to making me the contact person for every new or potential teacher who comes to Incheon through them.  I have fielded e-mails from one applicant and another new teacher within the past seven days.  I have also given time and brain space to the new guy Rick and then this new girl today.  It’s like despite the fact that I’ve only been here about three weeks, I can’t speak the language, and I don’t understand most of what’s going on around me, I am now the welcoming committee.  My neighbours, who were so helpful to me, have been conspicuously absent from the welcoming activities since they dealt with me.  I feel simultaneously very isolated and very put upon.  It’s a strange feeling.

Before this week, I had begun to worry about being the recipient of so much kindness, because I couldn’t reciprocate when the neighbours would pay for dinner or a put a $100 bottle of Johnny Walker on their bar tab when we went out.  I hated feeling indebted.  But as of today, I feel I have paid it forward about ten times over with all of these people and will only be helping out when it’s convenient or if the spirit moves me.

On the bright side, being at a cafe this afternoon made it possible to download all of season one of “The Borgias.”  I might indulge in that tonight.  I’ve got a bottle and a half of wine and six Snickers bars.  I could so some damage here!