Transfer Tales

Hello my dear reader. Lovely weather we’re having today. No? Just me?

Well actually, the weather isn’t even all that good – it’s snowing, cold and slipping on the ground and making a fool of myself makes me more fearful than the thought of slipping on the ground and actually injuring myself.

Priorities I guess.

Today’s entry is inspired by the fact that I would like to share some 'side quest' moments. Yes, we’re making a transfer and changing from the main theme of this blog – the buses. Whilst this is not entirely a new concept, and I have often told you some side tales in prior entries, I figured that I wanted to incorporate more of them in this second (future) volume. (I’m manifesting another book here.)  

So welcome to some ‘transfer’ tales of some of my ‘side ventures’ here in Korea that don't involve public transport.

Moment Number 1 – The Return Of A Familiar Neighbour

Listen, after I had written about this man (my next door neighbour) a few entries ago, I couldn’t help but think I somehow managed to scare him away. Whether he felt deep in his bones that I had written about him, or he simply couldn’t put up with the awkward encounters any more than me, he simply vanished into the abyss and I stopped seeing him – for months I might add. Did I miss seeing those bright white sneakers? I can’t say that I did. I knew he was still my neighbour though because there would often be packages outside of his door at times, but miraculously we just never encountered each other again since that entry went up…until we did.

Upon thinking about where he had disappeared to, I came up with the conclusion that our working times just didn’t align anymore and he started to finish work at a different time. (Thank you Lord.) I became comfortable coming home, not worrying about possibly running into him in the elevator or having to rush home in hopes that I would get to my hoard of new deliveries before him – or worse – at the same time as him. (Ah, yes - the package collection of shame.)

Nope, just pure bliss for months getting to my door alone without having to have an existential crisis about whether I should acknowledge my neighbour or attempt a ‘hello.’

But then one day… oh that that fateful day...

I got home from work, walking to the elevators and someone was already there waiting. I didn’t pay much attention to them and proceeded to look down as per usual – minding my own business. My eyes were however rudely interrupted by – yup you guessed it; a pair of oh-so-familiar bright, white sneakers. I quickly looked up, as if I couldn’t believe my eyeballs. It was indeed my neighbour – fancy Louis Vuitton satchel in hand and all. (Okay, does he really not own another pair of shoes though???)

Ah man.

Rather than start to panic or wonder about the number of packages I had waiting outside my door – I couldn’t help but laugh inside. God really has some funny ways of making people re-enter your life. I can’t help but feel I somehow summoned this man as I started to wonder more about where he gone. Was I sad in a way that I no longer saw him? Perhaps. Either way, we rode the elevator up together and proceeded to enter our homes, pretending the other didn’t exist as per usual.

Ah yes. Welcome back, neighbour.

Moment Number 2 – Note To Self – Writing Notes In Class Will Bring All The Boys To The Yard

Okay, for anyone who didn’t get the title reference, it’s probably better you didn’t. To everyone who did – it’s just an attempt at being witty as per usual. Am I succeeding? Probably not. Am I just being weird and cringe – most likely.

Anyway, back to the plot!

So, I’ve written about Yeongjun before – one of my favourite students...you know, before he started becoming a teenager with teenage tendencies and whatnot. Of course I still liked the kid, but he started becoming less willing to participate in class or answer any questions I'd throw at them in an attempt to engage with them more. He used to always be the first one to have his hand up in Grade 5. He had even started talking during teaching time and not doing his textbook work. Oh no, was this cute little goof I knew since Grade 4 becoming a rebellious child whose inner mantra seemed to have become one along the lines of ‘school’s lame’ or worse…’English is lame.’ But he loved English! Why is he breaking my heart inacompletelyplatonicalway???

I even caught him writing notes to his friend in class one day, but I didn’t have it in me to stop him. I will say that despite these things, Yeongjun still got good test scores in English – so I figured I’d brush off the ‘he’s going rogue’ assumptions. I mean, typical pre-teen transitions, am I right?

When we were playing a game at the end of that class, I don’t know when it had happened, but my co-teacher seemed to have gotten hold of said note. I remember once when I was in school, and my homeroom teacher caught me writing notes to my friend. She proceeded to snatch it from me and read it out loud to the rest of the class. Man, it was awful. I still have inner scars from that one.

Well, it seems Yeongjun will be joining the club.

My co-teacher proceeded to read the note OUT LOUD as students were leaving the class, all whilst Yeongjun started begging her to stop. (All in good fun and no ill-manner.) What happened next was pretty. darn. funny.

One boy picked up on what was happening and decided to stay, walking up to my co-teacher, listening to the contents of the note. Another boy did the same…then another. By the end of it, a hoard of boys were all standing there, as if they were gathered around a campfire - listening to scary stories whilst my co-teacher proceeded to make it her life mission to finish unveiling the contents of the note. (All while poor Yeongjun continued to beg and fall to the ground in sheer embarrassment as his friends laughed along with my co-teacher.)

And me? Well, I was laughing too, but I wasn’t hoarded around the campfire, but rather amusedly watching the scene unfold from a distance.

What was written inside the note – well, I wasn’t exactly sure - definitely silly small talk – much like the stuff I wrote to my friend in class when I was young. I couldn’t help but soak up every moment of this scene as it unfolded, because it really was quite funny when you're not the one paying the price in humiliation. I also loved how it didn’t seem like his classmates were all that interested in what was actually in the note, but rather more so at just simply embarrassing Yeongjun further by pretending to be totally invested in the words coming out of my co-teacher’s mouth.

Ah, yes – the joys of youth where some of your greatest worries are having your letters read out loud in front of your peers at school - fond and slightly mortifying memories indeed.

Moment Number 3 – A Visit To The Ears, Nose and Throat Doctor

Where to begin, where to begin. Long before I set foot in Korea, I was already a member of the unfortunate human club known as 'Sinus Sufferers Anonymous.' Ah yes, I got 99 problems, and the inner cavities of my nose are one of them.

So, I tend to get sick pretty often - especially here in Korea fighting the air, flowers and 0-100 temperature changes that comes along with it. (If you read my previous entry, you know what I’m talking about.) This means I have had to become well-acquainted with the ENT doctors here in Korea. When I first paid them a visit, I was told I have a deviated septum – which made a whole lot more sense as to why my right nostril suffers a whole lot more than the left.

Anyway. Recently, I got sick. Yup – teach many snotty-nosed kids and you’re bound to fall victim to whatever they have considering they have no idea how to cover their mouth when they cough or sneeze - YIKES.

Thankfully, I was only sick for three days – one of which happened to be Christmas. Ah, yes. Imagine being sick on Christmas, bound to your bed while your family splashes around and has fun in a pool on the other side of the world. Fun times.

Whilst I was feeling extremely sorry for myself, I managed to recover rather quickly – and thankfully. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people where if I’m sick - I’m dying. I often tell God it’s okay, I’m ready to come early because having to be sick and still take care of yourself and go to work is a mission I’d rather not have to take on - but take it on we do I suppose. I guess God isn’t ready for me yet. So, after I recovered from me being sick, a few days had passed, and I couldn’t help but feel I was getting sick AGAIN.

(Omg, God changed His mind...this is the end.)

Turns out I just caught another sinus infection. Lovely.

Well…that’s just great. Not to mention I have to visit home soon and take three planes to get there. My fat luck. So...as against going to the doctor as I am, you know - until I deem it absolutely necessary, I knew I should probably just go.

Hey, I’m all for doctors, but popping myself full of pills without making my body do the work itself first isn’t my go-to option for building up immunity. So yes, I’m as stubborn as a mule and if I can, I’ll avoid the doctor. Could it be my mom’s unwillingness to stock the medicine cabinet with actual medicine, or my dad’s hypochondriac need to take seventeen different vitamins a day (no lie), that has led me to be like this? I think a fair midway point would be to keep some medicine at home and hope that it’s enough to do the trick, before deeming a visit to the doctor absolutely necessary.

I think the other difference is that going to a doctor in Korea costs - well near to nothing. In comparison to South Africa or many other countries, you can visit the doctor without having to feel like you need to donate your kidneys afterwards just to make back the money you spent. In saying that, it doesn’t make me want me to go to the doctor any more often, because they always prescribe you with an exorbitant amount of pills here. On top of that, you have no idea what any of them do. (Of course you can translate and read the prescription packet they come in...but you know...effort.)

Alright, so because of my circumstances and predicament and the pickle I had wriggled my way into with having to travel soon – I put aside my stubborn mule tendencies and paid a visit to the ENT, with my emotional support buddy, Tayla. Not me Tayla, another Tayla. I know I know, it’s confusing. (The downfall of being given a popular name for your year of birth.)

So, Tayla and I made our way to the ENT and once called in, she sat off to the side on a chair, in the doctor’s office with me. I sat in the patient’s chair and the doctor proceeded to ask what was wrong. Because I tend to flail in such circumstances, I had what I wanted to say typed out and translated on my phone – so I gave it to him to read. Once he did that, he asked a few questions and took a look at me.

This is where it turns weird.

He turns to Tayla (not me), and asks her questions. For example:

“When did you get sick?” To which Tayla looked confused, and I respond, “Last week.”

Now while all of this is going on, there’s a mix of both English and Korean happening. Whilst the doctor can speak enough English, some things are easier said and understood in Korean. Thus, after I answer him, he turns to Tayla a second time (again, not me) and asks something else. At this point I don’t remember what it even was that he asked because I was sort of in shock at what was even happening right in that moment. Tayla and I simultaneously said then that she’s just a friend – as if we realised he may have thought she was helping me with translating – which also didn’t really justify the reasoning because he was speaking to her in English too.

Uhm, okay?

After telling him she isn’t there to translate or anything, he proceeded to talk to her anyway in first person, as if he was talking to me. Like yes, our names may be the same, but we are not the same person. What a funny situation. Picture him asking her questions such as:

“When did you get sick”

“How long have you been sick?”

“When will you travel?”

(Meanwhile I'm STILL sitting there in the patient's chair, the actual sick one who is going to travel.)

All these questions being thrown at Tayla whilst I tell him the answers from the patient’s chair. What a comical sight it must’ve been to his nurse who surely must’ve thought, “What the heck is happening?”

Tayla was just as bewildered, as she looked to me for the answers while this man proceeded to not take the hint. LOL. We left that office, script for antibiotics in hand – absolutely befuddled, and wondering why that even just happened. When this story was told to another friend, they brought up the possibility that maybe he thought I didn’t speak English either and that’s why he was turning to Tayla...perhaps. Whilst I wrestled to accept this plausible conclusion for a bit as ‘I guess that makes sense,’ I flat out rejected it’s plausibility when I reminded myself that I was the one answering the questions, showing him that I very well could understand them. Tsk.

I had to revisit the ENT on Tuesday the following week – alone this time. All went well this time too – there was no being spoken to through my emotional support buddy now dubbed ‘go-between’.

I guess emotional support buddies can become distress-causing buddies after all…but hey, they can also become a great story to tell. Thanks Tayla Two. (Hey, I gotta be Tayla One in my own story.)

Moment Number 4 – Refilling Ink & Other Extreme Sports

This little tale actually takes place on the same day as the previous tale. It also happens with said Tayla mentioned in the previous tale.

Okay, so during the evening - when packing my bags for my trip home, my emotional support buddy came around for a visit to become my 'emotional packing buddy' as I tried to figure out what all I should stuff inside my luggage.

At some point in the night, I decided it was a good idea to refill the ink cartridges belonging to my printer – my printer that has been nothing but an angel since getting her. For anyone who doesn’t already know, there seems to be a mysterious, widely spoken lore about printers and their sheer will to never function how they should. There’s always some kind of problem, be it with the ink, the way it prints, or its unwillingness to connect to your computer – printers. always. cause. problems.

But not this one.

For the first time in my life, I have purchased a printer that had no trouble being set up, connected to all of my devices and absolutely had zero problem printing. It was amazing. I love this printer so much, I have a right mind to ship it back to South Africa when I leave, just so I don’t have to part ways with it.

So yes, my printer and I have a mutual agreement that it works perfectly for me, with no issues - and in return, I call it the bestest-estest printer...EVER.

Well, it was running low on its ink, so I figured it was about time I emptied out the ink bottles I had lying around so that I could finally throw them out. Tayla was there, so she helped me do it. Now keep in mind, I’ve done this before when I first had to put the ink in the cartridges, and all went well. I opened it up, popped a bottle into a cartridge as if I was feeding a baby, a few glug-glug-glugs later and out we popped it. SIMPLE. Eventually, Tayla and I got done with all the cartridges and all that was left to do was close the lid. I mean, how hard is that?

Frikken hard apparently.

This lid had us sitting for over an hour, on a Saturday night – trying to figure out where on earth we went wrong. It just would not go down. It seemed like the hinge had gotten stuck somehow or jammed because it just wasn’t allowing the lid to be pushed back down. Of all things – it couldn’t even give me a paper jam. It had to give me a hinge jam that required Tayla and I to take half the printer apart just to try and make sense of it all – to no avail might I add.

We even ended up losing a screw inside the printer and at that point, I thought now it’ll really have a reason to be jammed. I was about to accept the fact that my very expensive printer was about to become…well, very useless to me. Upon screwing it back up after eventually retrieving the screw with a magnet, we tried one more time and YES! –

No. The reality is that it still doesn’t work - this is not a movie.

I fiddled around and tried to push it gently one more time, and then a bit more forcefully out of frustration – hearing the sounds of applied pressure on plastic that sounded like it was about to give in and break. Up until this point, we had asked ChatGPT, skimmed the printer’s manual for answers, turned to YouTube, and even took on the task of posing as hardware engineers, as we proceeded to try and take the printer apart and fix it ourselves. I was desperate at this point…and so, the last thing I could only think to do in my desperation (which should have honestly been the first thing) was to pray. Ah yes, such a silly and minuscule thing to pray about, but I was at my wit’s ends.

“Lord, please let my printer close and work - I am desperate Jesus!”

That’s all I could bring myself to ask before I tried again, to no avail. As I was ready to give up, Tayla put her hand on the printer and pushed on it. I wanted to stop her because it was going down and I was worried she was going to break it, but it just kept going down, with no sounds of protest.

Without any sounds of disapproval from the printer, the lid just went down until Tayla took her hand off it. After that, it kept going down by itself. It wasn’t even plugged into a wall at that point, since we had yanked it out earlier in order to move it to the floor. It went down, until it was fully closed.

As small and as laughable as this was, it was nothing short of a strange, tiny miracle. Also, if you’re wondering – yes, the printer worked perfectly fine after that, as if nothing ever happened to begin with.

To be honest, I can’t help but think God was using that moment to remind me to go to Him for things I need rather than trying to fix them myself. Sure, sometimes it takes bringing us to the end of ourselves in complete desperation to do so, but I felt bad I hadn’t asked sooner and continued to rely solely on Tayla’s and my own capabilities. I guess I am as stubborn as a mule after all. I was also reminded in that moment that yeah, I think I can be pretty funny – but God is sure a whole lot funnier than me, what with that printer prank and all. After all that drama and after Tayla went home that night, I prayed for quite a long time. God knows I needed it.

Ah yes, what fond memories, both new and old. *deeply reminisces and looks back on said moments.*

I can’t help but think I have so many other 'transfer tales' to share - but I think for now that four is quite the nice, even number. So, whilst there’s more stories to share, there’s always more blog entries to be written, so why rush?

Let’s sit back, relax and just enjoy the long ride.

Until the next stop,

Bus Blog Driver Tay