personal space (or, a lack thereof...)

to live in korea as a teacher of english means not living a lavish lifestyle, for the most part. the pay isn't bad; it, in all reality, is enough to survive comfortably and save a bundle at the same time, provided one doesn't decorate the local pubs--most especially the ones that don't serve domestic alcohol, only imported, western labels--on a nightly basis with one's ass, drinking prowess, and generally intolerable, boorish behaviour.

not boorish, per se, but...

living in korea as a teacher means, for the most part, that your accommodation is paid for by the school that employs you and such housing differs from school to school or city to city, depending, of course, on a number of factors, not the least of which is the generosity (or lack thereof) of the school's owner. the paid housing can be anything from an old, dirty shoebox one-room with a bathroom--and a washing machine inside said bathroom--to a two-bedroom apartment inside a three- or four-story building that might also include a restaurant or bookstore on the ground floor to immense three- or four-bedroom apartment in a high-rise apartment building. sometimes, any of these may or may not be dirty, clean, modern, ancient, fully-furnished, somewhat furnished, half-ass furnished, with a/c, or with any sort of amenities or conveniences.

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if you're lucky, you live in a nice, modern, fully digital, high-rise with two or three other people that you've never met before in your life from some other part of the country or world (and hope you get along with them) or you live in a nice, clean, well-furnished--albeit, small--apartment by yourself; perhaps you enjoy living alone or perhaps you become great mates with your flatmates, but you're content, whatever the outcome.

the colourful in the background are the high-rises housing a 100 or more families each...

however, if you're unlucky, you live in a small, poorly insulated, dirty one-room shoehorn in which the bathroom houses a washing machine, a toilet, a shower, and enough filth to win a nobel prize in biology or to find a hundred new species of fungus--but no sink; or you live in a shared flat with intolerable dumbasses who always bum your smokes or borrow your underwear or toothbrush or diaphragm or drink all your beer or eat all your food; or you live in a high-rise with a hundred or more other families--and on one side of your flat lives one family with screaming triplets, a kid who likes to leave her bike right in front of your door every day, and the world's first baying-at-the-moon cat while on the other side lives a family where the couple constantly quarrel at 4am on weeknights, the teenager is a sullen kleptomaniac, and the grandmother is a freddy krueger-looking pyromaniac.

inside one of these buildings might lurk that fungus you've always been looking for...

having lived in korea for a sum of nearly six years altogether, i've experienced most of gamut--from the intolerable to the bad to the decent--but never anything spectacularly bad like some of the aforementioned examples or anything truly what i would call excellent, either, let alone unbelievably awesome. however, as has been documented in many other more revered and intelligent spaces than this one, it's amazing what human beings can become used to.

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it is possible to experience joyful living (from a non-korean perspective) in this country, but one must have saved money and be willing to use it for such purposes--or just get plain lucky in finding a job at a school whose owner is generous and understanding. and after years of misses and near-hits, i am finally living in an apartment that i am truly excited about.

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*author's note: i realise that all of this is trite, grousing on about previous flats here in korea and dribbling bollocks about my present flat--especially when i very easily, if seung-hee and i had made other decisions or taken other paths in our lives over the course of the last four years, could be living in a shanty on an indian beach or in a thatched hut in the thai mountains or in a tent on the plains of kenya or in a wooden house on the silk road--but it's what's on my mind as i put pen to paper at this point in time.

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anyway, i digress. our present flat isn't the greatest flat in the history of domicilia, it's not the biggest, it's not the most modern, it's not the end-all of all ends--there is no house like that in the world, in my opinion--but it's a very good apartment. it's a normal, three-bedroom, two-bathroom flat with a kitchen, living room, and utility room fitted out for a washing machine, wood floors, electric heat, blah, blah, etc... but what sets it apart are these two outstanding features:

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1: our building is four stories high and we live on the third floor. the fourth floor is unoccupied; in fact, it's an open-air roof to which only we on the third floor have access. it's bigger than our flat and is great for playing games of badminton, futbol, poker, twister, or hockey; it's perfect for nude sunbathing, orgies, spying on neighbours, growing plants of various fragrances and strains, keeping stolen zoo animals, dropping water balloons or rotten eggs on passing cars, setting up a telescope to watch the stars, or taking out joggers on the hiking trails across the street with a high-powered rifle. it's all that and more than you could expect from open-air roof access.

setting joggers in my sights while an orgy-cum-hockey match rages on behind me...

2: if you walk outside from our living roomthere you will find yourself on a huge porch, bigger than many of the apartments i've lived in while in korea. where i live in gangneung is called gyodong taekji, the newest part of gangneung and its fastest-growing. because it's new and because gangneung is not a big city, there aren't many tall buildings around, which gives us a great view of most of taekji--probably about 250 degrees worth. looking straight ahead from our porch, we overlook a vacant lot (which i'm tempted to buy just so the view will stay unobstructed), a side street, restaurants, and other buildings. not too far in the distance, i can see a plethora of buildings housing anything from bookstores to convenience stores to piano schools to kang's, my new school (a minute's walk away), and, beyond that, some of those high-rise apartment buildings to which i referred above. if you look off to the right, the view improves immeasurably, though there are still a multitude of not-so-tall buildings: there is a vacant lot on this side, too (again, tempted...)

which gives an unblocked view of gangneung university off in the distance, trees and forests, the mountains that line the northeast coast of korea, and--best of all--a beeline view of the sun setting on those very moutains. as the weather is warming up, it is amazing to sit on the porch with various friends, drinks, and/or foodlike or leafy substances and just take in the quiet. it's nearly pure bliss and you're all invited to come partake whenever you can.
a view of the sunset from our porch...