No Love for the Sex Hotel

I spent eight long days in quarantine. That was eight more days in which I waited for details about where I would be teaching, what kind of schedule I would be working, and what kind of apartment I would be living in. My school's director responded to my inquiry, but didn't answer any of my questions (his English is not very strong). The frustration was building. On top of that, I was desperately missing home while locked up in the government facility. Upon release, I was told that I would be taken to my apartment, so I started psyching myself up again for starting my new life in a new place.

You might be able to imagine my frustration, when - instead of arriving at an apartment - I was dropped off at a seedy hotel. At first I found the surroundings comical - the tacky mood lighting, the big round pleather bed and the karaoke machine. But then I started wandering around the hotel in search of a wireless internet connection and I happened upon a room with a bizarre sex chair. And when I was moved to a room with an internet connection, I no longer had a karaoke machine, but I did gain a sex toy vending machine. Turns out, I'm at a "love hotel," Korean style.

I'm not such a princess that I couldn't stay there. It seemed clean enough (although I didn't have a black light to confirm that). However, it just didn't seem like the kind of place that a reputable business person would place his new employee. I started seriously questioning whether this school was the right one for me. To really understand the situation, you need to have a better understanding of how the school operates. "Corporate" has branch schools, mostly in and around the Seoul area. It also has franchise schools across the rest of the country. Each franchise - like mine - is independently owned and managed. I had read on EFL blogs that the quality of each teacher's experience depends largely on whether they're at a branch or a franchise. And if they're at a franchise, it depends on who's running it. The sex hotel put enough doubt in my mind to send me running.

I was online, preparing to buy my ticket home, when my school's director pounded on my door wondering why I hadn't shown up for orientation with the head instructor. My recruiter apparently hadn't passed on the information that I was going home. I hadn't contacted the director directly because there's too big of a language barrier to communicate all the nuances of my concerns and disappointments. So I continued Skyping with my mother in my room, as the director remained in the foyer, calling my recruiter for an explanation. If I had a list for such things, it would be among the top five most awkard and bizarre moments of my life. I have no idea what was said to the director, but he got off the phone and begged and pleaded for me to stay...at least come by the school to take a look.

I had my heart set on going home. I was ready to see familiar faces in Portland, to communicate effectively in English, and to start searching for yet another career. I didn't even want to be tempted to stay in Korea. But I had come this far, so I might as well visit the school to try to sort things out.

And finally, with the help of the head instructor, I started being able to put the picture together of how my life would be in Korea. I would have my own classroom. I would work 4 1/2 days a week - a total of 32 hours. No weekends. I would have a loft-style apartment that's large compared to those of my colleagues in other parts of the country. And it would be cheaper than I had expected. The rest of my school's teachers would also be living in the same building. It would be a 15 minute walk to school each day. I finally had the answers I'd been asking for.

Reluctantly, I decided to stay. To follow through. To see where this experience takes me. Portland will still be there a year from now. But I don't want to return to Portland as the very same person who left. That was the sole purpose of this trip. I have found myself running from commitment at every turn in the past few years. Not this time though. At least not yet.