Election fever and the National Assembly

Is election fever gripping Korea? As a foreigner, as with so many things here, it’s hard to say. One thing is certain: there is a general election coming this month, and the seats of the National Assembly are up for grabs. It looks likely that the ruling Grand National Party will lose their current majority to the new United Democratic party, which seems set to benefit from general disillusionment with President Lee Myeung Bak’s elitist policies, and a recent raft of stories about corruption and a lack of press freedom which have all damaged the GNP’s reputation.

On street corners and subway stations in Seoul and its satellite cities, one can see evidence of the political parties’ PR machines springing into action, some of which seem familiar to us foreigners, some certainly does not. The huge posters and billboards showing (photo-shopped?) pictures of smiling parliamentary candidates beaming down from shopping centre malls are certainly reminiscent of UK election campaigns; but the teams of brightly-clothed dancing women singing songs praising their party, to the sound of K-Pop music being pumped out of portable PA systems, seem very different indeed to anything I might see back home. It seems that Koreans sell their politicians like they sell most things: using in-your-face sights and sounds to grab people’s attention.

As all this is going on, I thought it was time to go to the National Assembly building in Yeuiodo, Seoul. Being a bit of politics geek, I’ve been to a few Parliament buildings in my time - the European Parliament in Strasbourg, the Australian Parliament in Canberra, the British Parliament in London – and thought I should see what it looks like in the Korean equivalent, to witness the the place which embodies the 'prize' for this month's election candidates.

 

The building is impressive and anyone who’s crossed the Han River in Seoul will certainly recognize the Roman-style pillars and green dome which house the country’s political nerve centre. As you’d expect, it’s on a prime piece of real estate: located riverside, right next to the towering skyscrapers of Seoul’s main business and finance district on the semi-island of Yeouido.

The whole Yeouido district has a strange sense of space, of planning, of calm purposefulness, which one doesn’t see often in the crammed streets of Seoul. Walking up to the National Assembly building itself, from its new, super-clean subway station along its tree-lined  front-lawn, one does feel impressed by the imposing architecture and unabashed sense of power and privilege. And inside too, it’s not a disappointment: marble floors and red carpets, shining statues and canvas paintings - they’ve done a good job to realize the grand ambitions of Park Chung-hee (the President who ordered the building of this place) to replace its Japanese-built predecessor with a parliament building Koreans can be proud of.

the dome is meant to signify...er.. something or other

There are two main chambers, but only one of them is used. The other is reserved for North Korea’s politicians: should reunification ever happen, they’re ready! The main chamber looks similar to the US Congress or the European Parliament: a semi-circular design with seats facing the Speak in the centre of the room. Each politician has their own touch-screen computer at their desk so they can vote on bills electronically. (Technologically miles ahead of the Westminster system where MPs still have to file into division lobbies and use actual pieces of paper to vote.)

The main chamber

The semi-circle design is supposed to engender a non-aggressive style of discussion, as opposed to the face-to-face design of the House of Commons in London. However, Korean politics is renowned for getting rather hot-headed at times, and there have been numerous occasions when the National Assembly has been the site of violence and chaos. With punches thrown, doors barricaded, and fire extinguishers and sledgehammers used as weapons, it makes the ya-boo of Westminster seem positively tame.

With our guide Mr. Shin in the Visitor Centre.

Our tour of the main building was brief but interesting. We also saw the Visitor Centre, where a very friendly and helpful Mr. Shin (who spoke great English) told us some more trivia about the Assembly’s history and how it all worked. There are also some exhibits about the country’s political past and there’s a mock-up of the President’s own desk, where for a few minutes you can fulfil all your fantasies of POWER!!!! ( and I have plenty of them).

El Pres.

The National Assembly is the perfect place to visit to get a feel for how Korean politics works, and (for non-politics geeks) to experience a beautiful piece of living, working architecture at first-hand. 

It certainly would be a nice building to call your ‘workplace’ - you can see why, in the run-up to this month’s elections, so many would-be Korean Politicians will be fighting (and singing, and dancing) so hard to get a job in there.

The National Assembly is free to visit, but you will need to book at least 3 days ahead. A tour of the main building and visitor centre shouldn't take you more than 2 hours. Go to http://korea.assembly.go.kr/com/guide_01.jsp for more information. Tours can be in Korean or English upon request.

F1 Korea 2011 – Everybody wins!

(a) Isn’t Formula 1 just a bunch of over-paid, over-sexed boy-racers pelting round and round a track 50 times? (b) Isn’t it just a really noisy and carbon-heavy touring circus? (c) When we need viable, eco-friendly ‘green’ cars more than ever, isn’t it a huge waste of money and engineering talent? (d) Isn’t the best thing about it just the glamour, girls and associated glitz, rather than the actual ‘skill’ of the ‘sportsmen’ involved?

(a)Yes, (b) Er…Yep, (c) Probably, and, (d) Definitely. BUT, when I went to Mokpo for the second ever Korean F1 Grand Prix, I must admit that, despite my reservations, I had a great time. As you might have guessed, I have never been a huge fan of Motorsport, but the fact my friend Andy wanted to go, and (especially) the fact I managed to blag a free ticket, convinced me that I should give it a try.

Andy on arrival at Mokpo station

We travelled to Mokpo in style, enjoying the smooth comforts of the 300km/h KTX Train down to a rather rainy Mokpo. The F1 race last year was, famously, a complete wash-out, and we were concerned that it would be the same again, but we were lucky and most of the weekend turned out to be dry and pretty warm.

Mokpo itself is a city which has its own unique charms - it’s located right in the south-west corner of Korea, at the very end of the train-line, and it certainly has an end-of-the-line feel to it. It’s a little too small to be a major port-city like Busan, yet it’s a little too built-up to be a pretty seaside tourist destination either (there are hardly any beaches anyway). But, coming here for my second time, Mokpo has a grimy yet friendly atmosphere which I really like. 

Pit girls!

The city, like much of surrounding Jeolla Province, was overlooked and under-developed by the central government for decades, but now, with the F1 Race being situated just a few miles away, it appears it is getting some long-deserved payback. In Hadang-dong where we stayed, the motels, bars and taxi-drivers appeared to be doing a roaring trade, there was only one news story: The Formula 1 world tour had rolled into Mokpo!

The organisers had certainly made the most of the F1, and there was plenty to do (besides watching cars going really really fast). As well as the race, there was also a K-Pop festival at the F1 track on Saturday afternoon, and in Mokpo city itself, there was a Rock festival on both the Friday and Saturday nights. Friday night we hit the festival, watched a load of the bands (on an impressive big stage down by the seafront at Mokpo’s Peace Park) and got drunk with some of the young locals who were enjoying the free entertainment. We saw some decent artists, including heavy-rockers Schizo, and Chang Kiha and the Faces (check the video), who seemed to have everyone dancing, from teenage kids to old grandmas to foreign drunkards like me and Andy. Loved it.

Girls' Generation @ F1 K-Pop Festival

Saturday, we went to the F1 site for the qualifying session, which is not the most exciting part of F1, but it was good to wander around the grandstand afterwards, to see the models and pit girls wandering around, and also drop in on the K-Pop festival and see the likes of girl bands Girls’ Generation and Das Sherbert, who both seem to be genetically designed to make teenagers scream, grown men drool, and who produce songs which won’t leave your head for days, no matter how little Korean you know.

  

NNNNNNNNNNNNNRRRRRRRR....!!!!!!!

The main race on Sunday was far more buzzing than the qualifying session, and there were lots more people knocking about, as you’d expect. But the organisers had laid on plenty of free shuttle buses from Mokpo city centre to the F1 site so there wasn’t too much queuing or traffic, considering there were maybe 100,000 punters all going the same way. For someone who’d only ever watched F1 on the TV, there is something about the power of those cars and the SHEER BLOODY VOLUME OF THE ENGINES!!!!! (earplugs are a must, natch) which you really can only comprehend when you’re there in the flesh. 

Winners at the Podium.

The race itself went as predicted, and the German tour-leader Sebastien Vettel, who, having won the title at the Japanese Grand Prix only a week before, lead the race from the first lap and maintained first place until the end. Us Brits had something to cheer about too, as Lewis Hamilton came in second, and Jenson Button fourth. 

 

Mokpo from Yudal mountain

After the race, we wandered around the grandstand for a while, polishing off yet more Magkeoli and beer whilst waving our flag, making it clear to all that we weren’t just tipsy foreign idiots, we were tipsy British idiots! Having exhausted the entertainment of the track site, we headed back to Mokpo, to clamber up Yudalsan. Seeing as we hadn’t done much in the way of sightseeing, we thought we’d go up this little hill on our last night. Yudalsan only takes maybe twenty minutes to ascend, but rewards you with superlative views over the city and some of the surrounding islands. Having ticked off this must-see-attraction-of-Mokpo, we returned to ground-level and to drinking, this time accompanied by some rather tasty Dak Dori tang, a spicy chicken soup with carrots and potatoe, and a particular favourite of mine.  The evening descended into Soju drinking, more flag waving and general silliness before we finally called it a night.

I doubt I’ll ever really be a huge fan of F1, but I had a really good time at the Grand Prix and in Mokpo in general. Koreans sure know how to make good events into great events, with surprising ease: add a load of drinking opportunities, put on some live music, and put a few pretty girls around the place! Everybody wins.

Big beaches and Bigger mountains... Gangneung and Seoraksan

Not satisfied with our trip to Ulleungdo and Dokdo, me and my accomplice Andy decided to spend a little more time in Gangwan-do before heading back to Seoul. I’d promised to take Andy on some real hiking trips during his stay in Korea, and I’d been told that it doesn’t get much more beautiful than Seoraksan National Park. And any excuse to stay in Gangwon a little longer and soak up some more of the fresh air is fine by me.

I’m a big fan of Gangwon province. It’s like the mirror image of its west-coast counterpart, Gyeonggi province. Gyeonggi is one of the most (over-)populated places on Earth: a man-made spaghetti  of urban sprawls, punctuated by crowded roads and highways, endless apartment blocks and the steady hum of 23 million people (almost half of South Korea’s population) trying their hardest not to fall over each other. 

Gangwon province, in contrast, despite being much bigger than Gyeonggi, has less than 2 million people. There is not much of a train network, no subway, and very few big highways. Instead, you can see a lot of mountains, farms, tourist hotspots, national parks and beautiful beaches facing out to the East Sea.

In many ways, Gangwon-do reminds me of rural Scotland. Like Scotland, it’s a hilly, mostly sparsely-populated place; like Scotland, it’s famed for tourism and outdoor activities such as hiking, rock-climbing and watersports; like Scotland, it gets more than its share of cold and snowy weather; and like Scotland, it always seems to takes bloody ages to get there. 

Anyway. After our ferry pulled into Donghae City from Ulleungdo, we headed to Sokcho, the most north-easterly city in South Korea and the closest to Seoraksan National Park. But, fortuitously, we had to change buses in coastal Gangneung City, and so we decided to spend a night there - good choice!

Meeting the locals, Gyeongpo Beach

Gyeongpo beach

My Rough Guide promised that Gangneung boasted ‘excellent’ beaches, and I had heard from some of my students that Gyeongpo beach, in particular, is one of the best and most famous beaches in Korea, so we took a bus there, and were not disappointed. Despite having just experienced Ulleungdo’s craggy island beauty, there was a distinct lack of sandy beaches there to lounge around on. So, it was an impressive and welcome sight to see Gyeongpo’s six kilometres of fine, clean sand stretching before us., with a few sunbathers and people messing around on banana boats around us. Time for a quick swim in the clean blue East Sea and a couple of cans of Hite. Yum.

Gangwon-do Acappella Jamboree

And what I call ‘explorer’s serendipity’ came into play for us, yet again, when we stumbled into a rehearsal for the annual Gangwon Province Acapella Festival, which was to be held that night, just a short walk from the beach. This featured a bunch of, I presume, art college students performing entirely without-instruments – singing, harmonising, and sometimes using human beatbox – to create a very cute and relaxed festival atmosphere in front of a surprisingly small crowd, sat politely cross-legged on the grass. It really was a unique event, and most of the groups were very talented. We spent around an hour there until we realised there were no bar facilities (WHAT?!), so we headed off into a taxi, into the night…

Trying to find the best place to hang out on a Saturday night in a new town, far away from the nightlife of Seoul, can sometimes be quite difficult. So, we drank outside a city-centre Family Mart and waited until we attracted people to talk to us. This method generally works. After a few bottles of Soju with bemused young locals, eager to ask us where we were from, and why we had come to little old Gangneung, we met some foreigners (who had exactly the same questions) and were duly whisked off to a variety of bars, clubs and into the boozey blur of late-night hedonism, Gangneung-style………

Andy managing a smile in 'underwhelming' Sokcho

Thus, Sunday was, predictably, a bad day. Even a dose of Haejangguk (Hangover soup) couldn’t really rouse our spirits. We sat, in mental and physical pain, on another bus, this time to Sokcho, gateway city to Seoraksan National Park. And our arrival into Sokcho was rather uninspiring: downtown Sokcho looked like it hasn’t changed since the 1970s. Compared to Gangneung’s spacious, relaxed feel, this place seemed harsh, outdated and quite uninviting. We found our way to a beach near the Bus Terminal, but even the temporary refreshment gained from a dip in the sea couldn’t take the edge off a nasty hangover and that feeling one sometimes gets when travelling: that, actually, it would be nice to be at home curled up on a sofa, rather than negotiating maps, buses and travel options in an unfamiliar place.

Seorak-dong at night

But nevertheless, negotiate maps, buses and travel options we did, and by the time it had got dark we’d arrived by bus in Seorak-dong, a village located near the entrance to Seoraksan National Park. We found a dirt-cheap minbak, grabbed some food and hiking provisions, and I was asleep by 10pm, which was a good job really, as we were up at 4am the next day to trek Seoraksan’s highest peak, Daechonbong, (a mere) 1700 meters high.

Seoraksan Entrance at Silly'o'clock

So, on Monday morning, as the rest of the world slept, we woke, put on our heavy bags (we had to carry a week’s worth of luggage up the mountain – bad planning, which was to come back and bite us in the ass later), switched on our head-torches and headed for Seoraksan. 

Despite the ungodly hour, and the fact it was a weekday, we weren’t alone on the mountain trail, and we met the usual gangs of brightly-coloured ajummas and ajussis, who as always, despite their fierce, intrepid exteriors, were very friendly to us (me and Andy having the novelty of being the only foreigners there, and almost the only under-40-year olds too). We stopped for breakfast at the rock of Biseondae (and managed to buy some enjoyably hot, if over-priced Ramyeon noodles from the hiking café there), and then, slowly, the ascent became steeper and steeper, the scenery more and more dramatic, and our bags felt heavier and heavier, as we trudged to the peak.

Colourful trees, colourful hikers

Seoraksan really is a beautiful place, and to go in Autumn is a visual treat, as the trees change colour into a cacophony of brown, orange, red and green. As we climbed the inside of the valley and up out onto the ridge, the epic scale of the place was also revealed to us: Seoraksan park is a vast network of mountains and valleys, with rocky peaks and tree-covered sides, broken up by the odd stream and waterfall. But the feeling of awe as we finally reached the peak of Daecheongbong was outweighed by a sense of relief, that after 8 hours of hiking, we were finally going to be going down at last.

at Daecheongbong - the peak

 

So after a stop at the top for photos and a bottle of Makgeoli (the hikers’ favourite poison, don’t-you-know), we headed off for a 3-hour descent to the little village of Osaek. Our reward for our 11-hour hike was Oseak’s USP: a natural hot spring. I can’t think of anything better than, after a hard day’s trekking, immersing yourself in a hot spa for an hour.  B.L.I.S.S.

on the way down to Osaek from the Peak

After some underwhelming Galbi-tang (Beef Rib soup) and some rather more delicious local-speciality Hwangtae-haejangguk (dried pollack hangover soup), we raised a toast to ourselves and our knackered feet, with a couple of cans of Max, and I was asleep in our minbak by 10pm. Spent!

 

I would love to say that I really enjoyed hiking up to Daecheongbong, but we carried so much stuff with us that it was a bit too much of a struggle to really describe it as ‘fun’. But, looking back at my pretty photos in the comfort of my fully-reclined bus seat on the return trip to Seoul, it was a satisfying achievement. If I go back to Seoraksan I would love to tackle some of the other, less demanding peaks (with a smaller bag) next time.  

Seoraksan

And so it ends, my week to Gangwon-do and the East Sea took, with a tally of 4 cities, 2 islands, 4 ferry trips, 5 intercity buses, 2 sizeable hikes, 1 heavenly hot spring, 2 sandy beaches, 1 singing festival, X cans of Max, Y cans of Hite and Z bottles of Makgeoli.  Yum.

'Don't say the T-Word'...Ulleungdo and Dokdo

So, finally, I finished my year’s contract in a hagwan and decided to take some time out to explore Korea a little more. With an extra month left on my working visa I thought I could really go to some of those hard-to-reach spots without having to worry about getting back to work for Monday morning. What a treat, after slogging for a year, it’s time to be a tourist! 

My friend from England Andy is on an extended holiday in Korea right now, so we have the chance to do some exploring together. There has been one place which has intrigued me for ages, the lonely island of Ulleungdo, located 100 miles off Korea’s East coast.

'Lord Of The Rings'. Sans orcs

Ulleungdo is not a terribly easy place to get to, and very few foreigners make the effort, preferring to go to the more famous and accessible Jeju island down south. But being a contrary git, I like to do the things most people don’t do. So, with the indispensable help of my Rough Guide, and my Korean friend Nina, we advance-booked the ferry tickets (ferry crossings are not regular, so you need to book ahead, and you really need to speak Korean!), and away we went.

To get to Ulleungdo, we had to take a ferry from the rather boring port city of Donghae, a 3-hour bus ride from Seoul’s Express Bus Terminal. The arrival of a ferry at Ulleungdo’s Dodong harbour is rather a big event for this mostly pretty sleepy island, so we were immediately accosted by a bunch of ajummas trying to drag us to their respective hostels. The winning ajumma charged us 40,000 won (about £12 each) a night, for a basic but totally acceptable sleep-on-the-floor ‘minbak’ room.

We found out that there was a ferry leaving to go to Dok-do that same afternoon, so we decided to hop on it, and take a trip to Korea’s most easterly point, the disputed island which the Japanese call ‘Takeshima’ (but don’t mention the T-word to the Koreans, especially round these parts!)

 

Andy wondering what all the fuss is about this Dokdo place

My Rough Guide told me that going to Dok-do, despite its notoriety, is not a terribly appealing option except for the most nationalistic of Koreans, and I can kind of see why some might think that:  a 3-hour round trip, punctuated by only 30 minutes of actual time on the island, and costing £20, might seem a waste of time and money. But actually, it turned out to be a rather surreal and entertaining experience, and one which most people don’t get to enjoy.

For the uninitiated: Dok-do has been a source of friction between Korea and Japan for decades. Despite the fact that the international community appears to recognise it as being part of Korea, and the fact that Korea actually has troops stationed there, and has built a landing platform and various buildings on the two rocky outcrops which make up this tiny place, Japanese politicians periodically stir up tensions by reiterating their claim to the island.

Only this year, the Japanese government published new history textbooks for its school children, claiming that Takeshima was in fact part of Japan. More recently, a group of Japanese politicians from a far-right party were denied entry on a planned trip to Dokdo, with the Korean authorities fearing (correctly) that the aim of the trip was a media-stunt, intending to stoke the Japanese public into nationalistic fervour. The Japanese government also banned its staff from using Korean airlines for a while too, as a protest at Korea’s ‘occupation’ of Dokdo. All of these events (and particularly the textbook affair) were a big deal in Korea, who felt rather miffed that Japan seemed to be provocatively flexing its imperialistic muscles (again), at a time when Korea was trying to help the Japanese overcome the problems of the recent earthquake/tsunami disaster.

Throw in the (not unimportant) fact that Japan occupied Korea, rather brutally, for about 40 years, less than a century ago, and you can start to understand how Dokdo has become a focal point for anti-Japan antipathy in particular, and for Korean pride and patriotism in general.

So after crossing the East Sea for ninety minutes, we arrived at Dokdo’s tiny landing platform to a reception of about twenty soldiers saluting our arrival, to the obvious joy of the passengers who cheered and waved back, proudly and sincerely, without a hint of irony (NB – Myself and Andy were the only non-Koreans on a ship of maybe 150 people!).

The banner says something like: "even the children know Dokdo is Korea"

There is only a very small section of Dokdo which is accessible to civilians, so really it was just an opportunity for the Koreans to unfurl their banners (with pro-Korea slogans), wave their flags and take lots of photos. After thirty minutes of breast-beating patriotism, we were herded back into the ship, and as the Dokdo soldiers saluted us farewell, there was more cheering and waving, and possibly a few tears as well.

Squid Genocide.

Ulleungdo is famous for squid-fishing, and you can see squid being brought off boats, squid being killed, squid being skinned and chopped, and squid hanging out to dry, all over the place. There was a veritable fishy genocide going on pretty much continuously to be honest.  So after a fitting dinner of Ojingo Bulgogi (basically squid fried with loads of vegetables – a local speciality, and a damn good one too), and a stroll around the several bars built around the coast, we retired, full of fish and beer, mulling over the randomness of our Dok-do excursion.

View through the mist from Seonginbong

The next day was hiking time, and we dutifully hit the trail for Seonginbong, the island’s biggest and most central peak, standing at just over 900 metres. The hike up wasn’t too difficult (especially as a taxi ride to the mountain entrance shaved off the first few hundred metres), but coming down on the island’s north side was spectacular, and the island’s reputation for its’ ‘Lord of The Rings’ style scenery was justified to us, as we took in epic vistas of rocky mountains, covered in lush greenery, dissolving into cloud at the top, and into the sea at the bottom. 

We walked down over the only flat part of the island, the Nari basin, towards the North coast, where we were met by more huge rock outcrops, gaggles of seagulls, and the beautiful blue of the East Sea crashing onto the craggy shore. Time for a can of Hite before taking the bus along the coastal road (indeed, the only road) back to Dodong.

'Entertainment'

At Dodong, by the docks, an outdoor stage had been built, and me and Andy sat, bemused, as a variety of singers were brought to perform to us and the crowd of a few hundred Korean tourists. Some of the singers were young kids, some were seasoned old pros, but the music was invariably a distillation of what older Koreans seem to like in general: big, wistful, passionate power-ballads, mostly set to the bouncey beat of traditional Korean ‘Trot’ music. Hmmmm. After a few bottles of Makgeoli, it seemed, strangely enough, to sound better, and I was shaking my ass along with all the 50-year old mums and dads, dressed head to toe in unnecessarily brightly-coloured hiking gear.

Coastal Path. Lovely Day.

The next day, after a brunch of absolutely divine (and cheap-as-chips) Mackerel stew, we did the coastal path from Dodong-ri to Jeo-dong-ri. The path has been cut right into the side of the cliff, close to the shoreline, so you can walk in a place you wouldn’t naturally be able to access: it’s a triumph of ambitious yet tasteful Korean engineering, and an example of how Ulleungdo has been made tourist-friendly without spoiling itself. On our route we also stopped at the lighthouse and took in yet more amazing views (to which we were becoming rather blasé by now) before descending down to Jeo-dong-ri for a ‘well-earned’ can of Hite or two. I’m always relieved that daytime drinking is never frowned upon in Korea, and the sight of middle-aged men quaffing down Soju at lunchtime is always reassuring to the British binge-drinker.

The Squidy mascot was a recurring theme

The rest of our day was rather similar to the first: more hiking, amazing views, a ferry ride or two, some nice local cuisine (this time, Mountain-vegetable bibimbap AKA ‘mixed rice’), more ‘entertainment’ at the docks, and plenty more Makgeoli.

If I had to give a complaint about Ulleungdo, it would be that the nightlife is almost non-existent. There is one nightclub at Dodong-ri but it appeared rather empty when we passed it, and after the stage entertainments stopped at just after 9pm, there was very little to do other than drink on the street and attract the attention of the odd local, who might, if you were lucky, speak a little English. This did happen to us one night, when a local guy brought us a load of fried Squid (which makes for a great drinking snack) in exchange for some of our Makgeoli and a little English conversation practice.

But mostly, Ulleungdo is a place for couples or families, or those who want to escape the craziness of urban Korean life and don’t mind a little quiet time. I was never bored, and our daytimes were so tiring enough physically that all-night partying wasn’t really called for anyway.

.

As our ferry left Dodong-ri, and my view of Ulleungdo became ever-smaller from my ferry window, I felt minded to conclude that it is one of the prettiest places I have seen in Korea, and is uniquely tranquil in a country which seems desperate to do everything as fast as possible. Add in the great food, the randomness of Dokdo, the eccentricities and friendliness of the other tourists and the locals, and you are guaranteed a great time in a special place, far away from anything resembling a beaten-track. Just don’t say the T-word.

Language as Therapy

I like my job. I teach English conversation with adults. Usually a small group of students, between 1 and 6 people, aged anywhere between 18 and 50, file into my little classroom for 75 minutes. And we talk about a load of different stuff, covering the kind of conversation topics you might expect, like Music, Love, Families, Sport, TV, School, etc. 

But the part I enjoy most is getting to know the students’ individual stories, their pasts, their ambitions, their dreams, and the small talk about their everyday activities – working, studying, bringing up children, meeting friends, getting a girl/boyfriend etc. – this is the stuff which is universal enough for me to relate to (except the bringing up kids bit), yet, being in Korea, there are also many subtle differences which make it all seem new and interesting to me, and I always have lots of questions to ask. 

Sometimes my students seem to find it strange that I find so much mileage in what they assume to be the mundane stuff (“What time do you go to sleep?”, “What did you eat for breakfast today?”, “What do you wear to work?”), but for me, that’s the valuable part of my job – I get to uncover some of the minutiae of Korean life for Korean people, the stuff you can’t discern from a Wikipedia entry or a Lonely Planet guide, and which you certainly can’t get from teaching 6-year-olds how to count to 10 in English. It's like I have my own little Focus Group.

In my first couple of months, I was slightly hesitant to ask personal questions which, in England might be considered rather nosy or invasive. But as time went on, I realised that I needed worry. Koreans are far more open and honest than us Brits.  Koreans have no problem with trying to satisfy their curiosity, and my students often ask nosy questions of each other, especially about money, like asking each other how much their clothes cost them, or how much they earn, stuff which us Brits tend to be pretty coy about.

"Where the magic happens."

Within the walls of my classroom, all sorts of stuff comes out. And I guess the crucial factor is the language difference. For many of my students (who are of a pretty advanced level), English no longer presents a language barrier, but an opportunity. It sounds silly to say, but my class is, for some of them at least, akin to therapy for them. It’s a chance to talk about their feelings in a safe environment: to vent their anger at their manager who doesn't turn on the Air Con when the temperature at work is 32degrees; to voice the unspoken frustrations they have with their spouse who doesn't pull his weight at home; to complain about studying for the endless tests and english certificates they all endure. Basically, to mouth off about the imperceptible structures which shape their lives, and the very tangible people who just irritate them.

I have heard some pretty startling stuff come from my students, especially the female ones. Some wives complain about having married too young, or about regretting having the kids which their husbands talked them into having. Younger students tell about hating their parents, lying about the long-term boyfriends and girlfriends and wanting to move out; and a friend of mine was told by a student (whom she had known only a few days) that she was cheating on her husband with a variety of boyfriends, and had been doing so for years.

It is a well-known fact that people often feel more able to discuss sensitive issues with strangers, where the fear of repercussions is massively reduced (Even if I could speak Korean, I’m hardly going to find their husband/boss/father to dish the dirt, am I). Furthermore, the fact that I am foreign and therefore unencumbered by the cultural norms of Korea, surely helps my students to offload. 

And I guess using English, rather than their native tongue, is a huge factor too. As for me, whenever I speak in a foreign language, there is something un-real about it all. I am almost surprised when the sounds I form with my mouth actually illicit the desired response (I read out some gobbledigook from my phrase book, and 'Hey Presto', two beers duly arrive at my table! How did that happen?).

When I speak English, it comes so naturally to me, that I am entirely aware of what I am saying and the likely consequences of my words. So it’s far more likely that I might be more honest and lucid when speaking in a foreign language (assuming, of course, that I possessed the vocabulary to express what I felt).  In fact, I remember that when learning French in my teens, and having to practice forming sentences, I occasionally said things which, unwittingly, unveiled some inner subconscious truths, which I wouldn’t feel as comfortable saying in English. Most strange.

I know I’m in danger of having made some huge generalisations here, and I know that not all of my students are so open with their feelings in my class. In fact, for some of them, having to speak to me in English for an hour seems like a huge, almost painful effort, and they seem visibly relieved when our time together is up, and they get to re-enter the Korean world outside. But for some of them, it’s maybe the only time they have in their day when the only thing required of them is to talk. 

So, the moral of the story is as follows: if you’re a socially curious person (AKA 'nosy git'), become an adult English teacher, and if you’re an emotionally-repressed wreck, learn a foreign language. 

You heard it here first.