drifting, floundering, sinking...

Drifting Aimlessly

Lately I've been getting disillusioned with my teaching methods at the university. There's got to be a better way! In desperation I penned the following poem to recite aloud to the poetry group a few of my friends and I have put together. If any of my students are reading this then please be aware that I'm probably not writing about your class but one of the really low level classes I occasionally have that make me so frustrated.


Drifting Aimlessly
A sea of heads have remained mostly silent
Apart from the occasional bungled attempt to communicate
Left abandoned midway on the shoreline like aborted refuse
As whisperers swiftly return to the safer waters of Korean
We seem to be all caught swimming against a tide of indifference
Where it is regurgitating facts for exams that will decide career paths
Not risk taking, not divergent thinking, not speaking for the sheer pleasure
Of trying out a new conception of self in a foreign tongue

Yet another semester has almost drifted by
I feel weighed down, anaesthetized at the bottom of a vast, murky ocean
As I am compelled to follow the mechanical instructions
Of authors comfortably perched in air-conditioned offices high up on distant shores
The tentacles of these publishers reach into every crevice of my classroom
Bombarding us with glossy pictures of consumer knick-knacks, movies and pop idols
Alluring the gullible with bite-size morsels of infotainment
Little nuggets so easily snapped up and swallowed without chewing
Under-nourishing those who drift along soothed by the lull of old currents

Every one of those bobbing heads contains a rich inner life untapped
Years of precious memories and images gone to waste
Replaced by a regimen where every word and action is scripted
Total predictability - teachers as technicians - life as a bullet-pointed list
Everything mapped out to reassure and reduce the cognitive burden
Where dissonance and a multiplicity of views are ignored
My complicity in this plot makes me queasy and restless
And yet I succumb to it day after numbing day

In the mind’s eye
I, too, of course, toy with radical ideas
Where students gleefully dance and rejoice as they spurn classrooms for the real world
Rows of desks are ignited and the textbook-burning spree commences
But they take it too far, this recklessly won freedom they can’t handle
And before you know it
Gullible teachers are being paraded around villages with slogans slapped on foreheads
Chaos descends, the scent of blood fouls up the air
Civilization is crumbling along the seam-lines…

Strange, primeval fears such as these leave me stuck in the groove
So that I hesitate to hand over the reigns and let others do the real decision-making
Another chance for authentic, compelling life is thwarted
Dreams submerged once again
I steer my wearying course.

Dosonsa temple on the night of Buddha's Birthday

The round orbs of lanterns orchestrate nicely with the circular lids of kimchi pots around the temple yard. It was an incredibly balmy, laid-back evening without any unnecessary zealous proselytizing. I love the peacefulness of Buddhism that contrasts with the 'believe or be damned' scaremongering of certain other religions.

Considering Dosonsa is one of the most beautiful temples located in a mountain valley close to Seoul, the turn out for the event wasn't huge. I was shocked to see Mormon missionaries from the States weaving in and out of the crowd trying to encourage Buddhists to convert to their faith!

Families who donate money to the temple get to have the family name written on their tag that dangles beneath each lantern, and are blessed with auspicious happenings for the following year.

Another year has passed already and again we are trapsing up mountain paths to get to temples hidden away in the mountains. This isn't the easiest feat when it's pitch black and there are no lights along the path, but by the time we get to the temple the whole mountainside is illuminated in the glow of thousands of lanterns.

The last of Cheju Island

I promise my viewers this will be the last installment of Chejudo. Obviously I need to go to some more exotic destinations and get snapping some fresh, new images. With the Chunchon Mime Festival coming up in two weeks and my end of semester vacation in Thailand and Australia I'm sure the future bodes well.
And now about the above photo...no your eyes are not deceived! On Cheju island it's a matriarchy of scuba diving grandmas who bring home the sea shells, snails, urchins (you name it) instead of the bacon. A local explained that women have a much greater lung capacity than men and are much more agile with their hands, and so the men are quite content to sit at home while the not so faint-hearted lady folk make perilous dives into the ocean day after day.
I thought the custom had been reduced to a touristy practice at a theme park, but no, all across the island grandmas in their 60s and 70s, and tough as nails, are busy diving, swimming, hauling great baskets of ocean delicacies onto the shore.

Cranes are everywhere in the rice paddies of Korea and represent longevity and grace. I was lucky enough to come across this one in a park.

To think that thatched roofs, and mudclay walls was the abode in which Koreans lived just 100 years ago. Very quaint but not exactly comfortable. A local told me they need to replace the rice straw on the roof every two years, so no wonder the custom has pretty much vanished from the mainland.

These traditional pots can still be seen everywhere in Korea as they contain kimchi, a pickled, fermenting cabbage, garlic and chilli combo that is eaten at almost every meal in Korea. The slight imperfections of these hand made pots makes them stand out from the generic factory produced kind you usually see.

This ostrich brings back memories of being chased by emus (the local Australian equivalent) on my way home from school to the farm. Cute and inquisitive, but don't get too close...