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Homelandpia.

The big blue beautiful bastard. Like a shiny TARDIS.

The big blue beautiful bastard. Like a shiny TARDIS.

I’m writing this after a long, sweltering October summer (!? – still in the Northern hemisphere and thoroughly confused) day of exploring the local sights – by which I mean discovering as many recognisable supermarkets in the city as possible. It’s a very, very tedious hobby.IMG_7295

We’ve had our first week of work, and have our feet up in our brand-new, still-really-messy home in the 22-storey Landpia Officetel.

[Quick appendix: an ‘officetel’ is an example of the Korean/Konglish fetish for dual-word contractions – see also: Chimek = chicken & maekchu (beer), Menbuk = mental breakdown (also a cheery euphemism for tongue-tied conversational brain-farts), Remocon = remote control. In this case, an officetel is a combined office/hotel whereby workers can avoid the tedious commute to work by actually living in the same building – or, live in a residential space which can also accommodate an office. A terrifying but undeniably practical concept.]IMG_7154

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There’s a serious kink for socks in Korea.

Landpia, only a few years old, is big and shiny and exciting and has lifts which go very fast. I’m enraptured. We live on the eleventh floor, so can relax with a sense of aerial superiority over the common folk below (and a sense of awe at our 12+ floor social superiors); and, while our house has a total of two doors – ie. the front door and the bathroom – it still feels like a full house, rather than a big, tiered room. I’ve heard the word ‘mezzanine’ used but feel nowhere near qualified to successfully use it in a sentence.

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The running route, resplendent with bloody-minded fishermen.

The running route, resplendent with bloody-minded fishermen.

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On a more professional note (one does occasionally forget one’s purpose when working as an ESL teacher abroad), this new teaching experience is a huge contrast to our last position in Namyangju. For starters, we live and work smack-dab in the middle of the city, so no ajumma-fields to squelch through when we take a wrong turn. Our lessons are only 30 minutes long, which means that even the most horrific of student ennuyeux can be escaped swiftly; however, so far all the students have been wonderful/rambunctious/slightly sarcastic but in a good way. We actually have breaks in the day. We have our own room. I found a jar of apple sauce belonging to a previous teacher which I haven’t eaten yet but might when nobody’s looking.

The school!

The school!

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Yum.

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As we’ve only had the one week so far – which, honestly, entailed two days of shadowing other teachers, one national holiday and half the students off for midterm tests – a more detailed Life & Times will have to follow later. We’re really excited about working at Han’s School, and are eagerly anticipating not having to nestle in our own clothing while slipping into TV comas in future.

Meg had the artist's treatment at a street festival - results pending...

Meg had the artist’s treatment at a street festival – results pending…

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Also, we’ve discovered Dak Galbi restaurants in the area and will return to England fat as holy hell.IMG_7348

 

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How To Cook A Teacher

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Us at Swedish wedding.

Hello! It’s been roundabout-almost-specifically-exactly a year since we left Korea. Blowing off the dust (sneezing messily in the process) from this blog, I realise that I’ve actually missed spewing my brain across the Web via inconsistent and rambling updates. However, I also realise that the purpose of a ‘travel blog’ can get a bit diluted when one isn’t actually travelling per se. Fascinating though app achievements and toe-nail pickings may be in certain circles, I blather on enough when I’ve actually got something to say.

So, Fell Out Of The Nest has laid dormant, waiting for its moment to strike/be taken down from WordPress due to inactivity. I’m happy to say it’s looking like the former; we’ve gone and found ourselves another bloody job in Korea.

A brief run-down, catch-up, filling-in and fleshing out of 2014:

* Not much happened

* I saw a woodpecker

* I found a week’s work as a labourer where I made the mistake of cracking an anti-UKIP joke among exclusively UKIP-voting workers

* I wrangled a month’s work as an ESL teacher to Italian students who were (almost entirely) not bastards, and who have reminded me that Instagram is occasionally amusing

* I got an iPad for Christmas 2013 and am seriously running the danger of destroying my relationship due to Family Guy: A Quest For Stuff

*I lived in a Spanish theme park for a week

* I went swimming naked in a Swedish lake with people who were fortuitously also naked

*I went running at least once without soiling myself

*I got another teaching job in Korea while reflecting on how thoroughly underachieving I’ve been in 2014

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Siblings in London.

Now everybody’s on the same page, I thought I’d like to take an indulgent minute to actually provide some faintly helpful information for any fellow emigrants looking to teach abroad. Please note that this IS specific to UK citizens looking to teach in South Korea; Americans and Canadians have a slightly different visa process, but God knows there’s enough blogs like this ‘un out there which could probably help you. Also, South Korea is a touch more anal about documentation, particularly RE: apostilled degrees – other countries often require a blessedly shorter process.

 

Us + 'Mericans in Yorkshire.

Us + ‘Mericans in Yorkshire.

 

An ESL Cookbook: How To Cook A Teacher (In South Korea)

Ingredients
You will need:

*1-2 English humans ripened to at least 18 years, preferably capable of formulating a native English sentence

*One genuine (or not, if you’re crafty) university degree in any subject (but extra points for English/Theatre/Education courses)

*One willing notary public (can be found growing in most good solicitor’s offices)

*One passport per human, whose faces and details should ideally match that of the passport’s.

*At least one teacher recruiting agency (not essential, but recommended) – for suggested companies, links are provided at the bottom of this blog page.

*One resume, or curriculum vitae (CV) with hopefully honest details of previous employment

*One criminal record check (previously CRB, now called DBS but otherwise the same damn thing); please note that any previous murder convictions may affect your employability

*One clothed photo of yourself/selves – Korean schools often like to know what the teacher looks like

* NOT ESSENTIAL BUT RECOMMENDED: I would suggest, at gunpoint if necessary, that you save up to buy a month’s intensive CELTA qualification course. It’s around £1,000 and a month of hella work, but it will make you more attractive than beer-goggles ever could in the eye of prospective employers.

Us + dogs + please don't drool on me

Us + dogs + please don’t drool on me

The Process:

1) Having let your human stew in their home country awhile, have them look at the Wikipedia/Flickr/Facebook/Wordpress/Blogspot pages relating to Korea. What looks good? Does megacity Seoul draw you with its shiny things and bright lights? Or the beach-city of Busan, right on the Eastern Sea’s coasts? Google ‘korea teacher blog’ and see what you find – make sure to choose http://www.felloutofthenest.com for maximum deja vu.

2) Find a recruiter. You can go it alone, but there’s no real benefit; it’s the school who pays them anyway, and you’re more likely to find a dodgy job if you don’t have professional backing.

3) Have a nice, shiny CV to hand – possibly trim down an all-round CV to focus on teaching experience (if any) and/or relevant skills. Send the recruiter your CV as well as a smug mugshot of yourself.

4) Say hi. Make them like you and smile to show you’re not a psychopath (frantic smiles might have an adverse effect). Let the recruiter know your situation – eg. your earliest start date, where do you ideally want to be in Korea, are you travelling with a partner etc.

5) Repeat stages 2-4 a few times with different recruiters: you can up your chances and be more picky with schools if you have a few different parties finding you work.

6) You’ve found a school you like! They’ll probably want an interview, either via phone or Skype; if you’re in the UK, prepare to get up for an 8-9AM (GMT) interview (4-5pm Korean time [KST]). Have a chat, see what the director/manager’s like. Most of the time, they just want to see what you sound/look like, so make sure to be friendly and speak clearly. If you’ve got any questions RE: holidays, working hours etc. then now’s the time. Also, be sure to ask for the contact details of current/past teachers – if the school’s happy for you to talk to the Western teachers it’s probably a good sign!

Us at (first) wedding in England.

Us at (first) wedding in England.

7) The school doesn’t think you’re a weirdo! Now comes the tedious bit. International employment is a bureaucratic pain in the bum, so I’ll expand the above ingredients. For this stage, you’ll need to get/print:

*Your CV/resume
*Your CRB/DBS: they cost about £26 from http://www.disclosurescotland.co.uk/basicdisclosureonline/index.htm , and take 2 weeks to arrive.
*Your original university degree AND a photocopy/scan
*Your passport AND another photocopy/scan
* A Korean visa application form (your recruiter will probably send you one): looks something like this  – http://www.teacheslkorea.com/downloads/Visa%20Application%20Form.pdf

8) A bit of legal fumbling now – you’ll be needing to find a notary public to glance at your degree and DBS for thirty seconds, stamp it with a metal thing and charge you about a hundred quid for it. However, this WILL allow to you to teach in Korea and you WILL make it back sharpish when you’re teaching. Just Google ‘Notary Public’ in your respective city and get a quote from them. Once you have your newly notarised documents…

9) …you need to send them to the Foreign Commonwealth Office (FCO); everything you need to know about posting it is (refreshingly) well laid-out on the site at https://www.gov.uk/get-document-legalised . It’ll cost you another £30 per document but THINK OF THE TRAVELLING

10) Once you’ve confirmed the job with your school-to-be, print and sign the contract they send you (make sure it matches what you were told about your job!) and cram this into an envelope:

– your signed contract

– your photocopied/scanned passport

– the Korean visa application form

– a Health Check form (supplied by your recruiter)

– Four passport photos of your beautiful face/s

– your CV/s, with your signature somewhere obvious on them

– your apostilled DBS & degree

Then, send all your hard-earned bits of very important but incomprehensible paper to the school in Korea. I don’t know what your address is, but you probably will by now. NOTE: Make sure you send by FedEx or DHL – they can get a bit funny about Royal Mail parcels overseas…

11) Eventually your school will get your stuff to their local immigration office, and will send you your very own number, which you then pass on to the Korean embassy in the UK, along with your passport (which you will NOT have lost by this point). After a week or so you’ll get your passport back with an exciting new visa stuck in the pages.

12) From this point on, your school will be rabid to get you and will aim to arrange a flight date for you. And so, you’re on your way! Try not to punch any schoolchildren in the face – it’s not very nice and most of them study taekwon-do.

I’ve regurgitated all this information mostly because we’ve had to do it AGAIN for our new position teaching in Gwangju, south-South Korea. We’re seriously excited, and not just because we’re going to be living in a building with a helipad.

I hope we get to take the helicopter to school.

Us + sister + friend in Spain.

Us + sister + friend in Spain.

For your info…

Korean Recruiters

Our personal recommendation, having found us great jobs every time in Korea – ask Dan Henrickson at http://www.teacheslkorea.com

Other companies who have been fantastic include:
http://www.flying-cows.com (a British company)
http://www.footprintsrecruiting.com
http://www.opportunitykorea.com
http://www.peoplerecruit.com

Another tactic which worked fantastically for us was to browse the job offerings and, more importantly, post your own CV on http://www.daveseslcafe.com and await responses from schools and recruiters in Korea!

 

 

 

 

 

Halloween Hits Kangs

I received a call from Eric, our head teacher today, asking me to bring my camera to school. In a show of seasonal enthusiasm which would put your average apathetic British family to shame, Kang’s Academy cast aside the first four lessons of the day (2-3 hours) in order to throw a Surprise Halloween Party for the throngs of kids attending today – and the teachers get to join in!

As taken by Eric. Believe it or not, that’s not an artificial ‘hardworking’ pose.

I in no way claim to have an indepth knowledge of any other language than English. I can say mon chien c’est un papillon (French: my dog is a butterfly), wo ist das krankenhaus, mein hund ist kaput (German: where is the hospital, my dog is broken) and hola, mi perro es muy bueno con la cerveza (Spanish: hello, my dog is very good with beer), but  cannot converse with any semblance of normality or fluidity unless my dog is the subject.

Every damn photo…

Similarly, many of my students are unfamiliar with words such as story, but can happily reel off zombie, phantom and/or werewolf at will; this came in handy as they incessantly played ‘Ghost, Ghost, Zombie!’ (a variation of ‘Duck, Duck, Goose,), running trenches into the floor with the tiny pounding and slipping of their Angry Birds-socked feet. As Meg is still in possession of the voice of a lifetime chain-smoker, she was all too happy to take over at the face-painting station while I led the Activity Gauntlet – and her clientele were all too happy to assault me in waves of ghosts, spiderwebs and surprisingly artistic moonlight vignettes.

Blindfolds courtesy of whoever was wearing a scarf at the time.

On a more pressing note, I’ve been humming/falsetto-singing Adele’s Skyfall all bloody day. I’m not getting any more soulful, alas.

There’s always one, and it’s usually him.