Koreantation - Day 1

On the hour-long subway ride from Seoul to Seongnam City -- the EPIK Orientation location -- I review the directions of how to get from Namhamsansung station to Eulji University, where I am to register and get a dorm room for the upcoming 9-day training session. 5 minute bus ride from exit 2, Namhamsansung ipgu station. Arrival at Eulji Daehakyo ap bus stop, Bus 6, 30, 33-1, 70, 442, 340, 720-1, 720, 55, 30-1, 240. Yeah, sure, easy for them to say. I thought this was orientation, not disorientation. Opting for legs over wheels, I decide to walk. It is a clear, crisp day and this way I will be able to better "orient" myself with the new city and get a true flavor of the environment. For 20 minutes, I clip along the wide, broken brick sidewalk past shops selling everything from skimpy underwear to apples as big as my head. There are street vendors and restaurants, night clubs and gas stations, convenience stores and of course, the ubiquitous American fast food joint. Across the street from the omnipresent Pizza Hut is Eulji University's main entrance with at least a dozen outdoor banners touting various events....all in Korean. Hmmmm, time for more orientation. I climb to the top of the 120 stairs and look to the left, then to the right, and yes, the word EPIK is in sight, sight, sight!

Approaching the dormitory door, the sign reads: Find your name and class number, find your name tag,and then pick up your registration materials inside. Dutifully I comply and am given not only a warm welcome, but also a room key, internet cable, course materials, an EPIK hoodie sweatshirt, and a large tote bag full of gifts including room slippers, a full-size bath towel, an alarm clock, an electric outlet converter, sandwich, fruit, snacks and bottled water. Now, with this mother lode of Korean hospitality in my arms, I must make my way to my room. Up 4 floors, down to the end of the hallway, press the key card against the plate, pull the handle, and "Welcome to room 401" says a voice from within. Meet my roommate, Evalyn Keen from Australia. I like her immediately. She has a responsive air about her and sharp wit that I find attractive. Emboldened, I find myself engaged in a mutual exchange of hopes, desires and plans for this soon-to-start school year. After an hour or so of getting acquainted, we head downstairs to the cafeteria for dinner.

The room is abuzz with excited Westerners -- a kind of "eat and meet" event. I fill my plate from the buffet with at least one bite of everything that is offered and take an empty seat at a table already alive with conversation among my fellow foreigners. They are discussing where they might go after dinner to get a beer or sample some soju (Korean liquor) when someone mentions the noraebang (karaoke bar) next door. No orientation necessary for that -- I know my way around karaoke quite well...or so I think.

Our group of 8 meets in the dorm lobby and proceeds to walk the 1/2 block to the noraebang, but with a stop at the convenience store to buy our libations. Korean karaoke is not a public event like in other places. It is a collective activity conducted in private rooms that are rented by the hour where you are allowed to bring in as many people and provisions as you want. So, we load up on Hite beer, raspberry wine, soju and some soda, and the store owner throws in a few big bags of free chips and popped rice to go with -- just another example of Korean hospitality. Upstairs, the singing room is lined with a padded bench, and has a couple of bare tables and one wall dedicated to various screens on which the lyrics are displayed. The sound system is set on full volume with excessive echo and all songs are stored electronically and accessed by remote control. Evalyn, who has been teaching in Korea for 2 years now grabs a mic, while Amy, a Korean-American who is on her second assignment here programs the song selector, and the rest of us break out the booze and crack open the songbooks. And so the night went...with Australians, Brits, South Africans and Americans all singing the songs of our lives, at the top of our lungs, in the Korean tradition of togetherness and social harmony.