I knew it would be strange coming home, but I just bowed to the cashier at Dunkin' Donuts.

While transitioning back to America has it's challenges, it's been nice spending more time with the people I care about. Like my father. 

Shortly after landing in Philadelphia, I met my Dad at the airport. I hadn't seen him in over a year, and the first thing he said to me was "Get in the car Erik we're going to State Farm."

So after 40 hours of traveling and a visit to State Farm, I returned to my house to find a 19 year-old kid named Nolan living there. I wanted to ask Nolan why he is living with my parents, but I was afraid he'd ask the same question to my 27 year-old self.

But you know guys life is all about how you choose to spin it, and while I might live in my parents' basement I like to think of it as my parents living with me. And I don't mean to brag, but at 27 I think it's pretty remarkable to be supporting my two parents and one Nolan under the same roof.

You'd think living with my roommates would be wild. It's not. I mean sometimes my mom switches up the salad dressing we use with dinner, but otherwise I've had a lack of excitement and an abundance of free time. My mother thinks I should use this time to start dating on "christianmingle.com," but I've found other ways to fill the void.

For example, I've been applying for jobs. Which jobs? I'm applying for all of the jobs.

Sometimes I'll take a break to work on projects that have absolutely no use for society, like a new game called "Ajumma Stacker." Keep an eye out for this one. I won't give it away, but your hint is 90 degree back angles + Tetris.

Another product of my spare time was turning this blog into a book. I'm not a big fan of self promotion, but if you don't buy it I'll kill you. In all seriousness though the proceeds will go towards Nolan moving out.

When I consider my living situation, I'm comforted by the fact that my younger brother Kevin has an even less exciting life in West Linn, Oregon. If you don't believe me, read the West Linn police reports:

12/10/2012 10:25 a.m. - "A man seems to be camping near the river at the Cedaroak boat ramp."

1/5/2013 3:17 p.m. - "A child was reported being rude to another child.."

1/9/2013 10:16 a.m. - "Door to door solicitors made one resident feel "weird."

1/15/2013 4:10 p.m. - "A bundled up blanket along northbound I-205 south of 10th Street was just a blanket."

1/16/2013 4:45 p.m. - "A man at Oil Can Henry's was very upset because he did not receive a coupon."

1/22/2013, 4:13 p.m. - "A caller was concerned about an elderly woman leaving West Linn Public Library with her grown children.."

1/24/2013, 10:39 a.m. - "A sick or injured raccoon scurried across the 800 block of Marylhurst Drive."

1/26/2013 1:54 a.m. - "A group of boys raised suspicion when they purchased eggs."

1/30/2013 1:09 a.m. - "A man entered Shari's to make a phone call and hadn't been heard from since. He was found at home."

2/6/2013 5:12 p.m. - "A man on a bicycle near Sunset Avenue was seen throwing his hands in the air."

2/16/2013 3:55 p.m. - "A man is threatening to break his ex-wife's "stuff" in the 1700 block of 16th Street."

2/20/2013 6:44 p.m. - "A man peeking into windows in the 2000 block of Tompkins Street is also selling steaks."

2/21/2013 9:49 a.m. - "A dog was digging holes along the beach at Mary S. Young State Park."

It's hard to think that two weeks ago I was in Korea on my computer, and now I'm still on my computer in Korea because I haven't left yet. But two weeks from now, if all goes as planned, I'll be back in the States.

I'm anxious to go home. First of all, I get to move into my parents basement so I've got that going for me. I'm also excited about returning to a place with so much freedom. So much American freedom. Our country is so free.

The problem is, traveling home means parting with a country I've grown to love. It won't be easy. Sometimes it seems like you can do anything you want in Korea, and in ways I'm scared to leave that lifestyle. I'm scared to pay for side dishes, drink refills, and dinners. I'm afraid to see white people.

But hardest of all will be leaving those who have made my experience in Korea so meaningful.

Like my Kum Kang boys and girl.

...And the crew of foreigners in Uljin. I can't mention everyone because the list would be small and I want it to seem like I have lots of friends here.

I'll also miss the locals in Uljin, which I can't mention either because I don't know how to spell their names. You know who you are, and if you ever come to the States I'll save you a spot in my parents' basement.

I won't miss my bully Mr. Bear, but I will miss this real bear. Big shout out Bearsly eat some fish for me. 

I'll miss the people of the TaLK program, though I haven't seen most of them in months.

I'll miss walking past this guy everyday.

I'll miss the teachers and staff of Maehwa Elementary school, especially my mentor teacher, Kyu.

Kyu has done so many selfless things to make my life easier, and a few others to make it more difficult. Like the fact that he makes me walk 15 minutes to meet him for a ride to school, then drives directly past my building on the way there. Or when he frequently stops his car on the highway, because driving and speaking English simultaneously requires too much thinking. Kyu is one of the nicest people and worst drivers I've ever met.

I've described Kyu before, but I think this anecdote sums him up well. One day after school, some teachers went hiking. We stopped, and Kyu wanted to take a picture because we were at "the summit." I looked around and noticed at least three or four peaks significantly higher, and a sign for a path towards the real summit. So, our conversation went like this:

Erik: "Kyu, so this is the summit?"
Kyu: "Yes, we are at summit."
Erik: "Are you sure the summit isn't that peak over there? The one that's, you know, higher, than where we are?"
Kyu: "No, I think maybe we are at summit now."

The summit was controversial but you know what's not? My love for Kyu. I love Kyu regardless of our altitude.

I'll miss Kyu's stories about the "stand up" people who showed him hospitality when he traveled to America, and the pictures of these stand up people smoking joints while Kyu naively smiled for the camera. I know much of what Kyu does for me is in repayment for the deeds of Americans who helped him, but I'll do my best to pay the hospitality forward to foreigners I meet down the road. But only Koreans.

I'll miss K-club, and my Korean teachers Vivien and Angelina.

Vivien and Angelina are my girls. Thank you for exposing me to your language, country, culture, cooking, and husbands. Particularly those last two.

I'll especially miss my Korean kids. And students.

I mean I love kids, not like Sandusky, but I like them a lot. What's not to like about kids? They are great why would you be scared of kids, or kids with frisbees? Kids are great.

Don't go anywhere yet I'm not finished. Your attention span is embarrassing.

While there's a great deal I'll miss about Korea, I also miss my family, friends, the Plaxas, and wearing sneakers inside. I think It's time to go home. Time to be free. It's Merrica time.

In preparation for my return to the homeland, I need to practice speaking American, so I'll start:
Korea, thanks brah. Seriously man c'mon, c'mon dude for real I'll see you soon.

But for now, later dog (meat soup).

Thank you for reading.

Living in a society where age matters, you're sometimes pressured into situations by your elders. It's particularly bad if you also have trouble saying "no" to people. I blame this combination for every bizarre event of my life in Korea.

Take last Monday for example.

I met an older Korean man, or "Hyung-Nim" as they're called, on a Sunday night fishing excursion. He invited me to a game of soccer the next morning. Though we're likely close in age, I felt the social leverage kick in and hesitantly agreed.

I didn't strictly agree to play out of social pressure, I genuinely wanted to play, but my eagerness turned to disappointment when this guy came to pick me up in his van. I wasn't disappointed by the van though, it was all black and could carry about 15 people, fully equipped with police sirens, too. I was disappointed because only 3 people were in the van, far too few for a game of soccer.

Back to the van. It had tinted windows, and on the each side "Korea Body Guard" and "Hapkeido" were printed in English. Hapkeido is an ancient Korean martial art, and I made the deduction this guy was a master. So not only was he older than me, but my Hyung-Nim could also kill me at any point in time. This meant I had absolutely no say in what we did for the rest of the day.

We drove around Uljin in this van, looking for more people to play soccer. I texted my unemployed friend "Bum" to play, but he must have found a job because he replied "no soccer, atomic energy work."

The others were texting too, and they recruited a few players. We pulled into apartment complexes to pick up the new recruits, also known as random children. If you've ever picked up children in a black van maybe you can relate to this, or maybe you should turn yourself in, but it's not a comfortable thing to be a part of. Especially if you're an elementary school teacher.

We found about 4 or 5 middle school aged kids, but still needed more for a full game. Out of desperation we started aimlessly cruising the streets, pulling over at the site of any able bodied person. Able to play sports that is, for those of you who pick up kids in black vans. 

Eventually we garnered enough people for a game, but no one brought a ball. Hapkeido Hyung-Nim then forced all of the younger kids he'd been collecting to sprint in every direction to find one. The kids returned with a ball and our long-delayed pick up game started alas. It was a normal game until people started doing back flips because they knew Hapkeido. All this did was make me more scared of Hapkeido Hyung-Nim.

After we finished, my Hyung-Nim invited me out for drinks. It was about 11 a.m. and I can't say no to people, so I agreed to join him for pumpkin makgeoli. Over a bowl of makgeoli he made the first in a series of outrageous statements, claiming "alcohol decreases aging."

Following lunch and drinks, the obvious next stop for us would be to get naked together at a spa up the road. Being a foreigner, sometimes locals assume you know nothing about Korean culture, so although I'd been to plenty of spas I was given a step by step tutorial by Hapkeido Hyung-Nim.

This guy made me test all the different pools with him, then gargle salt for 90 seconds. In between those events he added to the growing list of ridiculous claims:

Outrageous claim 2: "That guy has number one Korea forehead."
Outrageous claim 3: "Sunlight plus lemon is good for stamina."
Outrageous claim 4: "I have nuclear penis."

Lastly, he told me his tattoo meant "one punch one kill" and we left the spa. I've lived here long enough to know if you make one specific plan, many will follow; but after soccer, lunch, and the spa I thought our day was coming to an end.

That was when Hapkeido Hyung-Nim offered to take me to a Hapkeido class. It was an offer I couldn't refuse, literally, I can't say no. But first we had to pick up the other students, ages 4-10. For the second time that day I drove around in a black van picking up kids I didn't know, while a Korean song titled "Birthday Sex" played through the car's stereo.

After numerous stops our diverse clan arrived at the Hapkeido studio, and I relaxed in my Hyung-Nim's office before class. This gave me plenty of time to admire the many plaques and awards lining the office walls. When I saw the "Hapkeido Spare Time Good Use Certificate of Dan" I knew he was the real deal.

About 5 minutes into class, Hapkeido Hyung-Nim left the students and told me to follow him into the bathroom. Here I stood next to him in a stall while he secretly smoked a cigarette, using air freshener and a fan to cover the evidence before returning to give me a crash course in nun-chucks. I practiced, surrounded by people 15% of my age. My little bother Kevin can relate to feeling out of place in a class, he took children's ballet at age 20 so my niece wouldn't be nervous going alone. 

The Hapkeido class was adorable and I saw a much softer side of the man I once feared. Throughout the course of the day, Hapkeido Hyung-Nim bought me lunch, a banana-cream filled pastry, gave me a race car jacket, and forced me to do many things along the way. He also shared his passion for Hapkeido with me. And his body. 


I had such a great time that the next time someone older invites me to spend a day with them, I'll know exactly what to say.

No.

Koreans tend to be very forward when they first meet someone. 

"How old are you?"....
"What's your job?"...
"How tall are you?"...
"Do you consider Fred Durst a national hero?"...

Being bombarded with personal questions is a cultural difference that takes some getting used to for most foreigners. I kind of like the questions though, it makes me feel like I'm on an Asian game show.

There is one question I don't like, however: "How much money do you make?" 

This question makes me uncomfortable because the salaries of most native English teachers are inflated. As an after-school teacher I'm on the low end of the scale, but still feel over-compensated. Yes teaching can be very difficult, but It doesn't seem fair that Koreans are thrown into a competitive job market after years of intense education, while foreigners have abundant opportunities based on a language that comes naturally.

Here lies the conundrum. If it feels bad to get paid for teaching English, why does it feel so good to get paid for market day?

My co-teacher "Kyu" came up to me one afternoon and said:


"Erik, tomorrow school market day. Grade 5. Bring stuff to sell. We will teach market phrases."

I imagined fake money, price tags, a classroom decorated like a department store. Instead I get to market day and it's chaos, every 5th grader has hard cash and a pile of goods. Alright Kyu I like your style.

I'll admit I got a little too into market day. I don't know what happened but I escaped formal teacher mode, It was like I blacked out for an entire class and woke up 20,000 won richer. The 2-dollar bills I brought from the U.S. were flying off the shelves, and I was selling twinkies for at least double market value. American stamps were a hit too. Not to boast, but my market stand was clearly the best one there. I circled around the room visiting my students' stores, looking to spend money, but honestly nothing caught my eye. I purchased a few notebooks out of sympathy and a Christmas ornament before returning to my profit-driven stand.

As market day concluded I tried to return the money but Kyu refused, stating it was fair business practice. Selling 2- dollar bills and stamps to 5th graders didn't feel like fair business practice, but I listened.

Does market day make me a bad person? Perhaps, I mean I'm no Panda Ross.

Panda is the best. How can anyone be in a bad mood when people like Panda Ross exist?

Oh yeah because Chad Future exists.

The other night a friend and I stumbled upon a private New Year's Eve party in Uljin. The locals were having such a great time I didn't want to tell them it was only December 29th.

I too have trouble remembering what day it is across confusing time zones, but I'm fairly sure that as I write this, it's not yet 2013 in America. So Happy New Year, from the future. You will soon learn everyone is Asian in 2013.

For me, the end of a year is generally accompanied with a bit of reflection. As I started thinking about my experiences over the past 11 months I recalled the many "oddities" I've grown accustomed to. I don't want to forget the differences between Korea and life back home, so I did what I often do, I made a list. It's either my last list of 2012 or my first list of 2013, depending on what day it actually is. 

1. People between the ages of 18-40 don't live in Uljin.

I'm reminded of this every time I get a text from one of my good friends here, Sang Hyeon. Sang Hyeon is a 13 year old magician, and I spend more time learning card tricks from him than I do with people born before 1998.

2. Soap sticks.

I somehow feel bad about washing my hands every time I use these.

3. Age Tracking.

In Korea, you are 1 year old at birth and the entire country turns another year older on New Years day. That adds to my time zone confusion, and I don't actually know how old I am at the moment. This also means a baby born at 11:50 p.m. on New Year's eve is simultaneously 10 minutes and 2 years old when the clock strikes midnight.

6. Uljin has a uniform.

Not a specific sports team, like the "Uljin Volleyball Team." Uljin in general. There is an Uljin uniform. My town has a uniform.

7. Buildings appear and disappear rapidly.

In construction, there seems to be a function over form philosophy at the expense of quality or aesthetic. Some days I'll wake up and an entire building somewhere in town will simply be gone. Other times, I'll walk past a block I routinely visit and notice a brand new building.

8. The Service Button.

There is a button at most restaurant tables. If you press it, a waiter or waitress will come. If you don't press it, they won't bother you. It makes perfect sense, and It's the opposite of how restaurants work back home.

10. All Out Hobbies.

I've noticed many Americans pride themselves on being a "Jack of all trades." Instead, the tendency here seems to be focusing on one or two primary interests. If you pick up a hobby you're expected to do it the textbook way, buy all the proper equipment, and take it seriously.

11. Driving ranges.

The driving ranges in Korea are heated, you pay by the hour, and the ball is automatically dispensed for you. Due to the lack of land these ranges tend to be nothing more than small netted boxes. Not ideal, but cheaper than the $200-300 you'd spend on one round of golf elsewhere.

12. Soju is the most popular selling drink in the world.

I'll have to check it for accuracy but a teacher told me the average Korean adult consumes 300 bottles of this diluted vodka each year.

13. Ondol.

Ondol = heated floors, and it's fantastic.

14. Metal bowls, cups and utensils.

Most chopsticks, bowls, and cups used in Korea are a metallic fake silver. This is because hundreds of years ago, royalty would eat with silver to detect any impurities or poisons in their food. The commoners wanted to mimic their leaders, creating the knock-off metal bowls that remain popular today.

15. Traditional markets.

I'll miss mingling and haggling with the vendors at our local market, or any market across Korea. Most people won't understand this, but there is one thing I could see on Earth it would be my father interacting at one of these markets.

Another interesting thing I've discovered is that "Moises Alou," the baseball player, seems to be a universal phrase at the market. When I can't understand the Korean I just use his name.

 "How many do you want?" Well, clearly i'd like "Moises Alou" apples.

 "Where are you from?" I'm from "Moises Alou." Never fails.

16. Last bite superstition.

Some Koreans are afraid to eat the last bite of a communal dish because they think it will make them fat. My father is afraid of anyone else taking the last bite.

17. Exact Prices.

Tax is built into prices, so when something costs 5,000 won you pay 5,000 won. Simple, but effective.

18. Korea is safe, and I am irresponsible.

I've had two conversations in the last two weeks about guns, and both Koreans I spoke to were under the impression every American owns a gun, and citizen shootouts happen daily. I was surprised by their perception, but many Americans hold a similarly inaccurate perception of safety in Korea.

Korea is incredibly safe, in fact it's one of the few places I've been where I haven't felt threatened in any way. People generally tend to leave each other alone, unless of course they are helping each other.

I left my keys on a bus and the driver ran after me to return them. A similar thing occurred after I left a bag at a bar in town. I also left my wallet on a table in Busan, only to find it safe with a group of teenagers an hour later. Once I forgot my phone and clothes at the local gym, and two days later they remained untouched.

I've had a bus driver take me home on credit, and strangers give me free phones. They gave me three phones for no reason, and two of them were smart phones. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe they had the nerve to give me a phone without internet capability.

19. "Choong".

There is a certain sense of connectedness in Korean society, a collectivism and social harmony that I can't fully explain or wrap my head around. When we go to lunch, we go as a group. When we leave, we leave as a group. If I walk into a building of strangers, most will bow and greet me, making me feel warm and welcome. "Choong" is a sort of cultural friendship among people that aren't necessarily friends, and although I don't completely grasp it I'll miss the small part of it I do.

The end of the year and the end of the list.

I feel like now is when I should say how this year flew by, but in reality it felt like 3-4 years. I also feel like I should make a resolution. Alright, I have two resolutions. The first is to learn how to do this: 

And the second, is to be more like this guy:

Happy New Year.

It's Christmas Eve and there are plenty of things I'd rather be doing than writing, but I need to document what just happened before forgetting.

So a few foreigners in town decided to meet for a local Christmas Eve service. My "friends" never showed up, which meant I was left alone in a Korean Catholic church.

The service began traditionally, with the usual Christmas carols.  I should note these carols were sung noraebang style, complete with music videos having nothing to do with Christmas and ajummas dancing in the pews. 

After a full hour of caroling, it was time for the Christmas play. As the women next to me made their way to the stage, I realized that of the 30 people in the congregation, 24 of them were part of the play. I was sitting in the pews as an audience member, but developed stage fright because I felt like everyone was watching me.

The opening scene included some impressive acting, and I started getting sucked into the plot because every year I forget what happens. After the first act, a woman from the congregation took the microphone and told everyone to look for a number on our programs. I followed instructions and sure enough there was a number on my program. After noticing that every program number was different, it then occurred to me we were in the middle of a church raffle.

This lady started calling out numbers, and everyone around me including actors in the play started going to the stage to pick out presents. Everyone got prizes, everyone. Everyone but the foreigner. The play continued, but after each scene we raffled. The raffle became so serious I felt like the only purpose of the play was to give raffle lady a break.

The Christmas play ended and I still didn't have a gift. I wanted to say something but was distracted when the preacher's son walked in wearing his army uniform. The entire congregation applauded this man's entrance. Seconds after sitting down, the preacher's son's number was miraculously called. At this point I was growing suspicious of church raffle rigging, but before I could confirm my suspicion a large screen dropped down and we watched Youtube videos for the next 10 minutes.

Following the Youtube segment of our Christmas Eve service, the "random" raffle continued. We were now a solid 2 hours into the service, my friends still hadn't come, and I was now the only person in the entire church without a present. Finally my number was called and I marched to the stage to claim my gift: two rolls of paper towels. All the good gifts like the dish soap and laundry detergent were already taken.

As I admired my paper towels the play ended, and the very holy "Christmas Eve singing contest" began.

To choose contestants they used the same "random" number drawing system, while three judges sat in front of the stage to score each performer. It was like one of those X factor shows except there was no black judge.

I blatantly heard the raffle lady whisper my name to her friend before even drawing a number, and sure enough I'm called to the stage. The raffle lady cheated, in a church, on Christmas Eve, and I caught her doing it. 

I feel like this story is lacking pictures, so here is the golf ball room at my parents house.

After drawing my number "randomly" the lady forced me get on the stage and choose a song from a book of Korean hymns. I pointed to an unknown song title but recognized the melody, and sung Korea's version of "Noel" terribly.  The judges were impressed with my flair and awarded me 3rd place despite poor vocals. In a moment of false confidence I strutted to the stage while the congregation chanted "Ok-Su-Su," my Korean name. For my efforts I was rewarded a two pack of fabric softener, which I proudly placed beside my paper towels after returning to the pew.

It was now prayer time, and I closed my eyes and prayed for the humiliation to end as the service approached the 4 hour mark. The preacher's son, who was sitting behind me, whispered in my ear "raise your hand." He was wearing his army uniform so I listened, unintentionally volunteering myself for a rock paper scissors contest. My opponent was roughly 80 years-old and it was obvious she was going to choose paper. I victoriously threw some scissors at her, which meant I had rights to take her gift. Stealing from an 80 year old woman on Christmas Eve didn't feel right, but the congregation peer pressured me into literally ripping a 30-pack of toilet tissue from her arms.

I added the toilet tissue to my growing pile of household goods and sat down ashamed. I don't need a 30-pack of toilet paper, I'm leaving Korea in 6 weeks and my toilet hasn't worked since November.

The service ended moments later, I gave the woman her toilet tissue back, kept the detergent and paper towels, then left to scold the same "friends" who ditched the service to begin with. I forgave them to honor the Christmas spirit.

My Christmas Eve ended at a convenience store where I ran into my friend Bum. After we went inside for no more than 2 minutes, Bum and I returned to his car to find a man asleep in the passengers seat. I thought Bum knew this man, so I got in the car. Bum thought I knew this man, so he got in too. He almost started driving when we realized nobody knew this man. There was a stranger sleeping in the passenger seat of Bum's car. We kicked him out to the tune of drunken slurs and Bum drove me home. A unique end to a unique night.

Merry Christmas everyone. If you need detergent or paper towels send me your mailing address.

Last Friday I listened to "I believe I can Fly" three times in 40 minutes. I'm not sure how you feel about this, I'm not even sure how I feel about this, but I didn't have a choice.

This is what happens when my mentor teacher, Kyu, decides to DJ an entire English class. After his R. Kelly kick he played nothing but sad songs, most having nothing to do with English or learning it. I think Kyu was trying to create a somber mood to fit that day's activity, making goodbye cards.

The kids didn't choose to make goodbye cards, I forced them to, and I forced them to like it. Most of the cards turned out the same, it was weird, like someone wrote exactly what they should say on the board. But there were some rather original cards, too.

Evan's for example was either very nice or very mean, depending on how many teachers from the United States he's had before.

Yeah Evan, well you're my 18th favorite student.

Angelina's card reminded me that I must not be a very good English teacher.

And Alice's card reminded me that my eyes are at the located towards bottom of my face.

And then there was Brian's card. Only Brian could tell me to die and that he loves me in the same paragraph. Nothing surprises me with this kid. The picture on the far right is 95% of my email address, which I never gave to Brian. I have no idea how he knows it, but it's scary considering last year he absconded from the cafeteria during lunch and changed the password on every computer in the school. He once ran from my class and was found 10 minutes later in a rice field after an extensive man hunt. Brian is also obsessed with TNT and claiming that the "weather is Erik Teacher." 

I'll miss his antics.

David used his card as an excuse to just draw pictures of food, which I would have been fine with if R. Kelly wasn't on repeat.

Quinn tried to charge me for his card, but I didn't have a $99.9 dollar bill on me or a 1,500 cent coin.

I don't know what army tanks have to do with me leaving but ok. 

This is exactly what everyone does in America.

Yeah I don't know. In fairness Simon, you always were a bit off.

So the goodbye card activity didn't quite go as planned, but I'll miss these kids even if they won't miss me.

People use "GoPro" cameras to film themselves skydiving, bungee jumping, skiing, snowboarding, surfing, basically anything extreme. I am not extreme. I've only used my GoPro to record a simple bike ride to school. Sorry for not being extreme.

This ride from Uljin(where I live) to Maehwa(where I teach) generally takes an hour, depending on how many ajummas I have to avoid en route to the highway. Here's a visual.

I passed 61 ajummas that day, ironically 20 less than I would have seen on the bus. Ajummas, ajummas, ajummas. Sometimes scary, often loved, always productive.

My Dad used to make me wear safety goggles when I played fusbal. He said it was too dangerous without them.

I started thinking about my Dad because there are so many dads coming to Uljin these days. Dads coming to Uljin is huge right now.

First it was Jack, a teacher from England, whose father recently stopped by for about a week. Then I found out another teacher, DJ, has a dad in town too. Actually, DJ's dad has been here for 2 months, he just didn't bother telling anyone. I asked DJ to hang out one day and he casually said "I can't I have to go get dinner with my Dad." That's how I found out.

DJ has other secrets, too. It turns out he is actually from Uljin, born here in the small town we now reside in. Of course he never brought this up either. Being born in Uljin, DJ speaks fluent Korean, but he once again never mentions this, often sitting in silence while other foreigners struggle to order food.

His school doesn't even know he speaks Korean and he's been teaching there for two years. Teachers at his school realize after two years DJ should know some Korean, so he now has to pretend to know a few broken phrases to keep the secret alive. DJ has to purposely be bad at a language he knows perfectly. 


He hears teachers gossip about him, but can't chime in without blowing his cover. This post was supposed to be about dads but now I'm just getting angry at DJ for having so many secrets.  

OK back to dads. Dad it's your birthday, so Happy Birthday. You've been like a father to me. Your present is that I've decided to come home. I hope you like it. 

My decision to come home wasn't an easy one to make. Last time I faced this contract-extension decision was in May, and I used the toss of a coin to help. This time was different. A year in Korea left me wise enough to realize I shouldn't be using a coin flip for life choices. This time I used dice.

The night before decision day, I asked a Korean friend named "Chuckie" to roll 6 die. If the number were odd I'd stay in Korea, even I'd go home. Chuckie is terrible at rolling dice, and after many failed attempts I still didn't have an answer. If you're wondering what a failed dice roll looks like I can't explain it.

The dice method was inconclusive, and the next morning I biked to school still unsure of my fate. Upon arrival, I sat down in the teacher's lounge and waited. My mentor teacher, Kyu, eventually approached and asked if I'd made up my mind. I hadn't, but without thinking replied: "Kyu, I think it's time to go home." I don't know where the words came from. Maybe I was thinking about my Dad.

So if you read this, Dad, I'm coming home. I'm coming home and were going to play fusbal. Get the safety goggles ready.

Really mature Nathan. After I send you a handmade birthday card, you send me this card back. Thankfully, you didn't send it to my apartment. You sent it to my Elementary school, then you immediately left the country.

The day the this card came, I arrived at school to a circle of teachers asking me about "kitten AIDS." Thanks Nathan, for making my week comfortable.