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.
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.
This is DJ. He probably didn't tell anyone about this picture.
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.
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.
