Seoul Coughing

After getting by on my looks for the last four years I’ve been coming and going to and from Korea my lack of language skills has reached up and bit me in the ass.

It all started last Tuesday…

I had come home from work on a hot first day of August and wanted to update my iPod and have a nice cold drink. All the while being cooled off by the air conditioner. Everything was going as planned when suddenly there was a POP in the other room followed by silence.

My electricity had gone off. Shit.

I found the fuse box (or whatever they call it here) and tried to see the switches, but it was too dark. I reached in and felt around and found three switches, all in the up position. I lit a candle and looked at them and could see they were on.

Time to get help.

The landlady was out, the owner of the convenience store was on vacation, as was the owner of the Chinese restaurant who happens to speak a little bit of English.

So I called Cal in Australia and asked her where the real estate office was. I got there just in time to find the one person there who DOESN’T speak English. Cal talked to her and she came over and then found someone to come up and show me that there was a fourth switch. He turned it on and it seemed like that was that.

But it wasn’t.

Ten minutes after he left it popped again. The air conditioning was overpowering it. Or maybe it was the computer. But if I had to choose which one I would use it would be the air con. So I flipped the switch, waited a minute, then turned on the air con.

Did I mention the burning smell? Yeah. Like an electrical fire.

This time it took only 5 minutes for the power to shut off.

On Wednesday I went back by, but they were closed. I tried my landlady again, but she still wasn’t home (or wasn’t answering). I had to tough it out for the night.

I awoke at 3 in the morning and was halucinating. I was sweating and there were traffic noises outside and I wondered aloud how I got to Calcutta. “I’ve never been to India. What am I doing here?” I found the fridge and grabbed some water and then flipped the switch to turn the power back on. Great. Now it’s dying for no reason.

Thursday I wrote a letter explaining in detail what was wrong. I gave this letter to one of the translators/reporters I work with at Yonhap News Service in Seoul. She translated it in a few minutes and printed it out for me. Great. My problems are solved.

Not so fast.

I took the note to the real estate agent and found the guy who speaks English there. He said the note explained everything and he would take care of it. But nobody came by that night.

Friday came and went with no results.

That night I dreamed of Thailand, but not the good parts. I dreamed I was in prison there and couldn’t get anyone to listen to me. Nobody spoke any English and weren’t even interested in hearing me.

On Saturday I called the realtor from my office. He said they sent someone over in the morning, but the key wasn’t with the convenience store lady, so the guy left. Over the next 10 minutes I explained to this guy that the key was currently in the washing machine out back and the electrician could go back and try again.

“No. Take key to convenience store,” he said.

“I am at work now and the key is in the washing machine. It’s very easy to understand.”

“It would be best if you take key to convenience store.”

“I am at work. I can’t leave work to move the key 100 feet so an electrician doesn’t have to lift the lid of the washing machine.”

“Key is in washing machine?” he asked, sounding very surprised by this sudden revelation. “O.K. I tell landlady.”

When I got home Saturday evening the owner of the Chinese restaurant was trimming the potted tomato plants outside and told me that “the man come to fix air con, but no key.”

The air con? What is wrong with my air con?

When I called the realtor he told me the same thing. The landlady had called a specialist to fix the air con.

I spent the next 10 minutes explaining how the air con was a side effect of the problem, and not the problem itself. There wasn’t enough power to run more than one large appliance at a time in my apartment. Before Tuesday I could have my fridge, air con, washing machine, computer, and a small fan on the floor running simultaneously. Maybe it sounds wasteful, but it worked at the time.

“Oh! So you have problem running air con?” he asked.

“Yes. When I turn it on, all of the power goes out.”

“So we fix air con.”

“NO! Fix power. Fix electricity.”

“What about washing machine?”

“It also causes the power to go out, unless I unplug the fridge.”

And so on. Eventually he got the picture and said he would make one last call to the landlady. He told me that it wasn’t his responsibility and he wasn’t going to deal with it after this. I thanked him and hung up.

This morning I left the key in the washing machine and left the lid open, in case the electrician is an idiot. I also left the original note taped to the fuse box with the number “10” (for 10 minutes and then the power goes out) crossed out and “2” written below. Let’s hope the translation is what I want it to say.

It was 92 degrees F or 34 C in my apartment last night. Outside it was around 27 or so. My roof is made from a giant concrete slab that absorbs the heat. With the windows open I get a little respite, but not much. I also get mosquitoes.

I got home and the power was off. I flipped the switch and it went on, so I tried to run my air conditioning. The power popped. So did I.

I have seen it in Korea a million times: someone losing their shit and getting what they want. I had a letter translated by my editor at work and went to give it to my landlady. She wasn’t there, so I gave it to the owner of the Chinese restaurant next door. He got right on it.

Maybe it was the cursing. Maybe it was when I banged on the door of her empty apartment and screamed at the top of my lungs.

Whatever it was, it got action. A few hours later the electrician showed me the new circuit breaker and showed me the old one, which smelled like an old set of brakes on a tractor trailer. There were also burned up wires that were apparently touching and shorting out the power.

In the end I got my computer and air con on, popped open a can of OB and updated my iPod. But Cal and I are definitely getting out of this ghetto-ass apartment.

T

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 6th, 2006 at 8:57 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.