As I’ve written about before, my contract was not renewed last year. I was given a few months notice, but due to extenuating circumstances, I was unable to obtain the massive amount of documentation needed to obtain another public school job. Left with no other options to continue my time in Korea, I looked into my last resort: Hagwon work.
After DOZENS of rejections, I finally got a job at the last minute (isn’t it always). I started the day after my contract finished, and moved all my things by myself to a moldy apartment so far from a subway line, it’s better to take a bus.
The first week of work went well, aside from the mold in my apartment. It was challenging at first, but I was much better prepared, now armed with a year of teaching materials and experience. However, after grappling with thoughts about this for the past few days, I went on Kayak and bought a ticket to Vietnam. I’m done with this shit. Korea, I concede.
The reason for this requires a heftier explanation.
Some time ago, I have no idea when, my identity and association with American in Busan was revealed to EPIK and my coteacher. They had no idea about the existence of American in Busan until another Native English teacher from my orientation informed them. Why?
In March of 2012, I became friends with a very nice EPIK teacher here, and we would often explore Busan together. He and I came from the same country, went to similar schools, and were from similar families and cultures. As two Taiwanese-Americans in Korea for the first time, we became very close, very fast. By the end of April, we became more than friends.
We agreed to keep our relationship a secret, both knowing full well that homosexuality is highly frowned upon in Korea. I personally knew two teachers in Seoul who lost their jobs shortly after being outed as homosexuals before I decided to come to Korea. We had to sneak around, only being able to rendezvous at certain love motels, mostly limited to the gay district in Beomil.
Both of us became emotionally drained after a while, and the fights became more frequent. By the time it ended, we were at each others throats.
I don’t know if that’s why EPIK found out about this blog, and why they are looking for me, and I’m past caring now. I want to live in a country where I can hold hands, and kiss my boyfriend in public. Korea is not that country. By the time this post is published, I’ll be in Ha Long Bay, drinking from a coconut and writing in my pad.
So long, Korea, it was nice knowing you. EPIK, kiss my candy-striped faggot ass goodbye.