Being an English Teacher in South Korea was one of the most challenging, educational, and incredible experiences that I have ever had.
I lived and worked in the country as an English teacher for just over a year, and since I've come home, I have gotten countless questions from family, friends, and friends of friends about the experience and how they can do it too.
Read Moreby Lindsay Shapka in Travel, Destinations
I lived in the small city of Ansan just outside of Seoul, South Korea (close enough that I was still on the Seoul subway line) for a year and a half while I was working there as an English teacher. Because I was so close, I spent almost every weekend exploring Seoul’s winding historic alleyways, huge high-rises, modern art galleries, curated natural areas, and layer upon layer of food, fashion, and culture.
Read MoreSouth Korea is a country with a calendar year jam packed with small festivals, celebrations and special days. Teacher’s Day, Children’s Day, Valentines Day, White Day, Love Day, Peppero Day — the list goes on and on (and on and on — seriously, there are an aggressive amount of festivals).
I lived in the country teaching English for 13 months, and after awhile it was easy to tell when a major holiday was coming by the ten-kilogram cartons of grapes, packages of pears and massive jars of kimchi that took over sections of grocery stores and entire corner markets. Gift packs of ramen, crackers, Soju, lotions and shampoos filled the aisles in preparation for the coming celebrations.
Constantly surrounded by these foreign holidays, my roommate Michelle and I, feeling nostalgic for our own traditions, decided to bring a bit of home to South Korea and take on the challenge of hosting Thanksgiving dinner for our foreign colleagues.
A feat even with a fully stocked North American kitchen and grocery store at your disposal, being in South Korea brought a unique set of challenges to this holiday.
Cooking a turkey was out of the question because none of us had an oven in our apartment (this is a thing in South Korea — most people don't use ovens), so we had to settle on some precooked chickens from the grocery store as our main dish.
It was easy enough to find the vegetables that we would need, and after spending a few painstaking hours combing the foreign markets in Seoul, we managed to track down an ancient looking package of gravy mix and some boxed stove-top stuffing.
It wasn’t until we stumbled upon a lone can of pumpkin pie filling — hidden in a dark, cramped corner of the underground Hanam foreign market in Itaewon (a neighbourhood in Seoul) — that the thought of cooking dessert had even crossed our minds. The sheer luck of finding that can led us to believe that it was our destiny to make pumpkin pie (even though, as you will recall, we didn’t have access to an oven), be heroes to our friends, and host the BEST Thanksgiving dinner made in a foreign country EVER.
You might ask why we didn’t just buy a pie.
The short answer: South Koreans do not eat pie.
The long answer: while there were bakeries in the country, when I lived there, they didn’t make conventional items that would be found in bakeries in the western world. They were full of sickly sweet breads, hard flat pastries, fluffy pink cakes and mystery buns with red or black bean paste concealed inside them (I bit into what I thought was a chocolate croissant one morning to find that I was terribly, terribly wrong). I had never seen anything even resembling a donut, a cupcake or a gooey chocolate chip cookie, let alone something as radical as a pumpkin pie in a bakery. This lack of interest in North American-style baked goods — and the lack of ovens in standard apartment kitchens — also meant there was no baking aisle well stocked with flour, spices, sugar and other ingredients that would be found in the standard grocery store at home.
This man is pounding rice (called dak) that is used in South Korean pastries, This is nothing like a pumpkin pie — trust me.
Acknowledging all that was against us, we did the only logical thing that we could think of — called my mom. Since it was the middle of the night for her, it took me a few minutes to get her to understand that I wasn’t waking her up because of an emergency — I just needed some help making piecrust.
After she stopped laughing, she managed to find and read me a recipe which I scribbled down on the back of a receipt I found in my wallet, and handed off to Michelle who plunged down the small aisles of the foreign market desperately hoping that we would be able to find everything on the list. Luck was on our side, because after a thorough search we managed to find everything but condensed milk, which we discovered was easy enough to supplement by throwing regular milk, sugar, butter and water into a pan (thank you Google).
As we rode the subway home, trying to balance our ingredients haphazardly on our laps, we realized we had to face the elephant in the room and try to figure out how we were going to bake the pie.
After throwing out ridiculous ideas like making an oven out of a box (clearly a fire hazard) or cooking it on a small BBQ (just a bad idea thrown out in desperation), we decided to try and put ourselves in the hands of one of our local bakeries and their industrial sized ovens.
Once we got back to our apartment, we set our plan in action by calling Wendy — one of the Korean teachers we worked with who had offered us her services as a translator. We were hoping to have her explain our situation — over the phone in Korean — to the people working at our local bakery and then have her ask them if they would be willing to bake the pie for us in one of their ovens.
Like my mom, Wendy laughed for a few minutes and thought we were nuts, but agreed to help us.
Early the next morning, after prepping the pie, we carried it carefully to the closest bakery. Luckily the store’s owner happened to be working and once we had Wendy on the phone, we handed it over to him. After a few tense moments, he laughed and nodded at us, handing back the phone and Wendy confirmed what we had already guessed — he had agreed to help us out! Elated, Michelle and I left our pie in his hands and ran home to start preparing the rest of the meal.
After a long day of non-stop chopping, mixing and cooking, I left to pick up the pie about an hour before our friends arrived.
The minute I walked in the door of the bakery and saw the owner’s nervous face, I knew that something was wrong.
He slowly opened the lid of the white square box that had been sitting on the counter in front of him, and pointed inside at a lumpy mess, shaped sort of like a pie. Not even thinking that it needed to be explained, we hadn’t told him not to take the pie out of the pan when it was done baking. He — of course — had, and as a result the pie had completely fallen apart. Seeing how badly he felt and not wanting to make him feel worse, I gave him my biggest smile, bowed and thanked him warmly a few times before I left with my sad lump of pie.
We recounted our saga, amidst tears and laughter, while serving our sorry looking pie crumble to our surprised friends. When I finally sat down and took a bite of it myself, I was shocked to find that — despite its appearance — it was (and still is to this day) by far the best pumpkin pie that I had ever tasted.
When I was first asked by some fellow foreigners in South Korea if I wanted to get naked in a public bathhouse and sauna on my first weekend in the country, I looked at them like they were nuts.
Somehow though, they managed to talk me into it (I blame severe jet lag), and it was one of the best decisions that I have ever made.
Found all over the country, in both large free-standing complexes or on the top few floors of high-rise buildings, the jjimjilbang or public bathhouse became one of my favourite spots, and one of the things that I miss most about living in South Korea.
Now, before we go any further, shake all the dirty, dark, or (ahem) inappropriate images of "bathhouses" out of your head. The South Korean jjimjilbang is the complete opposite, and is part of a tradition of ritualized bathing that can be traced back to ancient Egypt, to prehistoric cities that existed in the Indus River Valley, and to the Aegean civilizations — not to forget the Greeks, Romans, Eastern and Central Europeans, and Japanese.
The bathhouses in South Korea are a cross between an aqua centre, a spa, and a theme park. They are gender-segregated because bathing suits of any kind are not permitted, though most have a unisex area where, after donning pajama-like T-shirts and shorts that are provided, you can meet up with members of the opposite sex. This area usually has a snack bar, a gym, TVs, Internet access, sleeping quarters (with bunk beds or floor mats — yes, you can actually spend the night there) and communal saunas.
The interior of a communal salt sauna. You are supposed to sit in the salt and cover yourself in it to absorb it's purifying characteristics. (image source)
They are usually open 24 hours and have no time limit for how long you can spend in them (seriously, you could spend an entire weekend there for your single entry fee of around 10,000 won or $10 per person).
My visits to a jjimjilbang usually went like this:
I would walk up to a bright front desk area fully staffed with friendly people who spoke zero English and looked at me like I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Holding up one finger I would say “Hana juseyo” (one please) and they would hand me my towels and key and charge me the entry fee. Shoes off, I would walk barefoot across the warm, heated floors and into the large locker room where my numbered key would open a corresponding locker. This is where I stored my bag and ALL of my clothes.
Don't get me wrong, this was TERRIFYING the first few times.
Being stared at on the street, fully clothed was one thing (a tall white girl in a very homogenous South Korea stands out like a sore thumb), but the idea of being naked in a room full of other naked women who would be staring right at me — and at all of my bits — was horrifying. But, I was surprised to discover that for the most part they completely ignored me. I know this is hard to believe, but I usually felt more self-conscious on the street fully clothed then I ever felt naked in a jjimjilbang.
Once I had stripped off all my clothes, it was time to head into the pool area.
But, before even thinking about getting into the steaming pools (which were emptied and cleaned once a day), protocol required that I hit the showers and completely scrub any trace of the outside world off of my body. I’m talking shampoo, condition, foam, wash, scrub, mask and anything else that I could think of to eradicate any dirt or dry skin.
Alone at the jjimjilbang one night, I had just started my process of cleaning when I was startled to suddenly feel someone scrubbing my back. I quickly rinsed the soap out of my eyes and turned to find a small, grey haired ajumma (grandmother) smiling at me and holding a coarse yellow cloth. She had seen that I was alone and had come over to help me wash the parts of my body that I couldn’t reach myself. Over her shoulder I could see her family watching and also smiling as she motioned at me to turn back around. Korean families would often visit the bathhouse together, taking turns scrubbing each other's backs or washing each other's hair. After my initial shock had worn off, I shrugged, thanked her in Korean, turned back to the shower and continued to wash my hair while she scrubbed me raw from my shoulder blades to my tailbone.
A photo of the female pool area at the Hurshimchung Jjimjilbang in Busan, South Korea
No other feeling in the world compared with sinking into a pool after the scrubbing was complete. My skin would be tingly, and every muscle in my body would un-clench as mini waterfalls carrying scalding hot water would fill the air with steam. The pools came in all shapes, temperatures, and water types that when used in a certain order were supposed to help one attain a high level of ‘purification’. There was usually a pool lined with fragrant cedar, one filled with green tea, one scented with eucalyptus and a lavender scented one with violet colored water that made me feel like a member of the ancient royal family. Jumping into the glacial plunge pool was always a rush, but it usually made me feel like I was going to pass out and it always took me a few seconds, clinging onto the edge, to see straight. In one corner of the room strong jets shooting down from the ceiling gave a life changing back massage and through heavy glass doors a latticed outdoor area, open year round, had a cold bath, a hot bath and at night, a full view of the stars.
Once my fingers and toes had started to prune, I knew that it was time to take a break from the pools and I would make my way across the warm, womb-like room to the saunas. There were only a few of them in the segregated area, but all were scented with a different essential oil or herbs that were meant to aid in even further inner and outer cleansing. I would usually just lay on the floor, letting the heat weigh me down, and let my mind go blank. Time seemed to disappear on my visits to the jjimjilbang.
Leaving the saunas, I would spend my last few minutes recovering from the extreme heat by laying on one of the warm marble slabs that were scattered throughout the main room. My body would slowly cool down while I listened to the steady trickle of running water and the quiet chatter coming from the corner where women were getting massages. A board on the wall advertised the different services available, but because I couldn’t read hangeul, I never knew what they were. They ranged in price from 10,000 won to 30,000 won (between $10-$30) and from what I observed the most popular were either a bone crunching full body massage or allowing a serious looking women in mismatched lingerie to scrub you raw. Ok, so maybe it wasn't just the fact that I couldn't read the board — those women scared me a little.
My skin has never been so soft, and I have never been so relaxed as I was after visits to these incredible cultural spaces. Don't let your fear of being naked in a room of other naked people prevent you from missing out on this amazing experience — trust, me it's worth it.
by Lindsay Shapka in Destinations, Travel, Adventure
THE STATS:
Location — Jeju-do (‘do’ means island) is a large, subtropical volcanic island located 85km off the southern tip of the Korean peninsula.
Population — This small island has a population of 540,000 permanent residents, though this can as much as double during the summer.
Claim To Fame — Considered by Koreans to be Paradise, Hawaii, and Disneyland combined, this is THE honeymoon location for newlyweds. The island contains South Korea’s highest mountain — a 2,000m high extinct volcano — long sandy beaches, impressive waterfalls, extremely rare lave-tube caves, and delicious oranges.
Female divers, or haenyeo, are found on many of Korea’s islands, but are the most famous on Jeju. These divers use NO scuba gear and are able to hold their breath for a full 2 minutes to allow them to reach a depth of 20 meters! At their peak in the 1950s, there were over 30,000 haenyeo, but now there are only around 3000 of these impressive women left.
Orientation — The island is about 200km around and is divided into four quadrants with the lush Hallasan National Park in the centre. The southern side is where most of the attractions, and resort-like hotels are located and so is the most tourist-friendly.
Getting Around — There are buses that can take you to all of the major tourist sites, and renting a taxi for the day is relatively affordable.
Your best bet (especially in the off-season when taxis and buses aren’t as numerous) would be to rent a car from one of the rental agencies at the airport. Just MAKE SURE YOU DON”T SPEED!! There are speed traps EVERYWHERE — trust me, I got a ticket.
Getting There and Away — There is a small airport on the island, but you can only fly in from one of South Korea’s major cities. Busan or Seoul would be your best points of departure. You can also reach the island by ferry, but the sea between the mainland and the island tends to be really rough, so unless you have an iron stomach, I suggest flying.
Where To Stay — Because Jeju is a major tourist destination, there is no lack of hotels, guesthouses, hostels, and resorts. Whatever your price point, ensure that you book ahead of time, and count on prices raising on weekends and in the summer months.
What To Do — By far, the most unique thing to do on the island is exploring the world’s longest system of lava-tube caves. The system in 13.4km long with a height and width anywhere from 3m to 20m. It is damp, incredibly humid, rocky, cold, and dark in the tubes, but what makes them so unique is the fact that they are relatively unregulated. Unlike attractions similar to these found in the Western world, the tubes don’t have roped-off areas, walkways, no-go zones, or park rangers that keep tourists from going somewhere they shouldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am NOT advocating doing something to risk your safety, all I am saying is take advantage of an experience that will let you feel like an adventurer, discovering something for the first time.
There are shrines and museums throughout the island, and no visit to Jeju could be complete without hiking up to one of the 360 volcanic craters that can be found throughout. These craters are incredibly lush and give hikers an amazing view of the surrounding ocean.
How I Found It — When I was living in South Korea, my brother and sister came to visit me for a week. While they were there, we decided to check out this amazing island that everyone kept telling me about.
We took a flight from Seoul (it was only about $60 each) and spent 3 days exploring the island. I was there in the off-season (it was not yet bathing suit weather) and, though I wouldn’t call it Hawaii, it was beautiful, interesting, and well-worth the visit!
Whether you are a penny-pinching backpacker or a traveller with deeper pockets, everyone loves a great, cash saving travel tip.
These tips will not only help you save and protect your money while you are travelling, but can also lead you to more genuine cultural experiences and — what every traveller loves to collect — some great stories.
First, lets start with a few tips to help prevent any cash-flow disasters:
I can not stress this point enough. If you don’t call, there is a good chance that your card will be canceled or have a hold placed on it right when you have to pay for your hotel room or your expensive dinner.
A simple call alerting them where you are going, and for how long, will prevent any disasters. Many card companies also have toll-free numbers that you can call from international locations if you have any issues.
Your credit and debit cards should work at most ATMs around the world, as long as you have a 4-digit pin number. Anything longer will not be compatible with international banks and cause issues when you try to take out money.
It was almost impossible for me to exchange the Budapest forint once I had left the country. Unless you are planning on going back to the country you are leaving, exchange your extra pesos, florins, drams, and riels before you cross the border.
Even if you are wearing a money belt the entire time you're traveling, it's important to have something extra tucked away just in case. I recommend sewing a small pocket in the bottom of your bag that you can tuck a card and some cash into, or placing a little cash under the insole of your shoe.
And now for some tips that will help you save cash while still having some incredible experiences:
Whenever I give this advice, the first thing that people tell me is that they have a limited amount of time and don’t want to risk not having a place to stay. Of course, if you are going somewhere that is hosting a huge event or in the peak of tourist season, booking ahead is definitely the best plan.
But, if you book ahead for the average trip, you run the risk of paying more (you can often get cheaper rates once in the actual country) or staying somewhere that doesn’t live up to its online photos.
I do recommend booking accommodation ahead of time for the first city you will hit on your itinerary so you have a base to head to, but leave the rest for when you get there.
Here’s why; all hotels, hostels and guesthouses are associated with other hotels, hostels and guesthouses in other cities and countries. They will always — whether you want it or not — have a recommendation for you, and will often even set it up for you at a discount.
The other reason I recommend not pre-booking is that if you do, you are forced to keep to a schedule. What happens if you want to stay a few extra days or leave early? What happens if you hear about an amazing free concert happening in a city that wasn’t in your pre-planned itinerary? There’s no risk of losing a deposit if you haven’t paid one yet, and not booking ahead allows you to take advantage of the best part of travel — spontaneity!
There are, of course, exceptions to this rule.
If taking a tour is safer (I took a tour into the Korean Demilitarized Zone for example) or less expensive than doing it yourself, it is absolutely worth it.
I’m referring to the walking, sightseeing, museum tours that, in the age of smartphones and Lonely Planet Travel Guides, are a complete waste of money for the budget traveler. Anything that these human guides are going to tell or show you could easily be discovered yourself with very little effort.
These paid tours are often affiliated with certain restaurants or shops and will usually begin or end with a visit to them where you will be forced to browse or eat in a ‘tourist friendly’, unauthentic environment. So, not only do they often waste your money, but your time as well.
Locals are your most valuable source when it comes to saving money. They are the people who can tell you where the best (affordable) spots to eat, party, and sightsee are. They are also great at giving you tips on how to experience the local (often free) hot spots.
Remember that the concierge at your hotel (in a hostel, this is not an issue) is not necessarily a "local" when he is doing his job. He is paid and trained to tell you typical tourist things to do. Talk to waiters, bartenders, desk clerks and local business owners for more authentic tips. They are the ones who will be in-the-know about what is going on in their city.
Limiting your restaurant dining can save you a bunch of cash.
Many hostels and hotels will include breakfast in the cost of the room, but if they don’t you can easily grab a piece of fruit, something cheap from a local bakery or a snack from a street stall. Street food is available all day and every country that I have visited, from Asia to North America has a version of a cafe where cheap sandwiches can be purchased as well.
Most would pick dinner as their sit down meal, but if you are looking to save everything that you can, I suggest heading to a restaurant for lunch instead. Lunch menus are usually just slightly smaller versions of the dinner menu, and are often $5-10 cheaper. The portion size will still more than fill you up, and you will get the same experience you would if you were there for dinner —without having to worry about what to do with leftovers.
With the exception of travel in cold countries in the deep of winter, every place I have ever been has had constant street performances. I have seen Italian opera preformed on the street in Venice, acrobatics on the pavement in China, and Mozart played by classical musicians in Vienna. None of these shows cost me more than the donation that I chose to give, and I believe that they were just as impressive — in their own way — as anything I could have seen for full price in a theatre.
Do a bit of research ahead of time, and you can even time your travels so that you are present for one of the amazing free concerts, celebrations, or street performer festivals that occur at different times of the year all over the world.
by Lindsay Shapka in Travel Tips, Travel
Having lived most of my life in a country where contraception and sexuality are not taboo topics, I forget sometimes that not all cultures are as comfortable with the subjects.
I came face-to-face with this reality when I ran out of birth control pills while working in South Korea as an English Teacher.
Not familiar with the healthcare system in the country, I approached my friend Kim — a fellow teacher — who had found herself in a similar predicament only a few months earlier. She told me that after doing her own research online, she had learned that prescriptions were not needed to get the pill in South Korea, and so she had just gone to her local pharmacy.
Other than a brief look of disapproval from the pharmacist when she requested it, the whole interaction seemed to go seamlessly — or so she thought.
The next morning, she walked into work and found the place in an uproar.
Her principal pulled her into his office and told her that a mother of one of her students had seen her at the pharmacy the night before. The mother had taken Kim’s "purchase" as a sign of promiscuity, and had stormed into the school earlier that morning and pulled her child out of class, threatening to get other mothers to do the same.
Kim sat there in disbelief as it was explained to her that birth control was not something that modest women in South Korea used and that, though he didn’t judge her, it would be better if she were more discreet when purchasing that "particular item".
Her advice to me was that I avoid buying contraception anywhere near where I worked, unless of course I wanted to be permanently labeled as a sex addict like she had been.
It isn’t just in South Korea where a stigma surrounding contraception exists however, and it isn’t just around the pill. In most places, condoms are no easier to come by.
My advice?
Plan ahead as much as possible, be sensitive to the culture that you are travelling in, and know where International clinics are located in the countries you are planning to visit.
Lastly, be discreet, you will stand out enough just being a foreigner and you don’t want to risk getting caught with (the locals thinking you always have) your pants down!
