Please, don't ask me about my camps.

There is an unspoken agreement amongst fellow Native English Teachers here in Korea. It is quickly realized within the first few weeks of employment and will steadily continue throughout your entire time here. This agreement entails writing a facebook status every time your school does something very negative towards you, or something very positive towards you. You may not, I repeat, may not, write about average things. These mundane occurrences may include a fairly delicious lunch, a reasonable and understanding co-teacher, a fair contract negotiation, or, as is my topic today, a run-of-the-mill camp experience.

Camps are what the schools have to continue English classes in the summer/winter off months to keep the native teachers working and to keep bragging about how great their English program is. Essentially they are extra work for everyone. Except me. I don't have camps. Ever. My school ha had their plan in action long before I got here and must think that any Greg involved will jeopardize their flawless work. I don't complain because I don't complain about not having to do anything until August.

I write this now from Andrea's apartment, waiting for her to be released from her substantial work day. I am eager because she wants to throw a frisbee around. My school has been closed for two weekdays after the final exams finished. Closed as in if I try to go in and deskwarm, as per my contract requirements, I will have to curbwarm instead.

I got lost in her area of Daegu, because it's not the east end and thus not the back of my hand, looking for Homeplus. I was looking for a voltage converter so I could play MarioKart on her Wii that she, oddly, hasn't used yet. I was unsuccessful and later confused at the layout of the streets, so I went back and read a book while watching a movie piece by piece while it loaded on her slow internet.

At one point I bought a slice of pizza. I was asked for my phone number to buy it. I was texted a coupon of some sort, then later an escort service ad.

I have recently dismissed the idea of refreshing her milk reserve that I have exhausted because of my hunger for Cheerios.

Yesterday I took a four, non-sequential, hour nap during "Good Morning Vietnam," which was on my on-demand for free. I then placed a chair near the window, made a cup of tea, and listened to the piano-playing of the person in the apartment across from me.

I will be happy to talk about summer camps and/or work with you. But please don't hate me when I answer. It usually seems to be the first choice of words. You started it, after all.

Tomorrow I have to go to work again and will continue going in for the summer days, but I think I can leave at noon.

I think I'll grow a beard. No one at my school will see it anyway.