It’s all in the Noodle

Moving to Korea wasn�t a difficult decision. It was no decision at all, really. The truth is I simply didn�t think much about it.

Here I was, 2 months away from graduation, completely broke. Frantically applying for jobs only to be flatly ignored. Not even a reply to my applications � which, personally, I found rather rude. I�m looking at you, PWC, among others I don�t remember. A simple, �you suck� message would have sufficed. If only to stop me from refreshing my Gmail on repeat. For hours.

Anybody who knows me, even in the slightest, will attest that I am a diabolical *waiter. Blame it on my Taurean side, but I have the patience of a bull waiting for the red flag to move. Non-existent. None. Nada. Zero. I just can�t stand it. And, on top of that I�m also one of those super early people. I arrive at least 15 minutes before I am supposed to be anywhere. It seems that most normal adults appear 15 minutes late. Suffice to say, I spend a lot of time waiting. And also, catastrophising. No replies? Well, that meant, completely and utterly rationally of course, that I would obviously never get an actual job that didn�t involve the local greasy spoon cafe. I had no hope of ever getting a �real� job (as my grandmother would call it) and therefore was destined to spend the rest of my life surviving off smart price 9 p noodles and raiding Asda for anything vaguely edible featuring a, �whoops�, sticker.

Resultantly, paralysed between waiting for nothing and the arrival of my own impending doom I became increasing fearful.

I obsessed over my noodle fate

And in a moment of epiphany�sat on a bus to university. Inspiration.

I mean, hell, Japan has some pretty awesome noodles. Right?

And so it began. The job search went international. I�m not sure who to thank. The noodles, or the bus.

Japan hmmm.

I Googled it. The Land of the Rising Sun. Didn�t sound like a bad gig considering my origins in the piss-down capital of the universe. A bit of sun might be just what I needed.

However, the more I read, the more I realised that half of the universe was working in Japan teaching English. I wanted somewhere new and different. Somewhere vibrant and exciting. And now, apparently Asia. But, I had decided preferably somewhere there wouldn�t be quite so many Brits teaching enunciation to kids. Somewhere I wouldn�t be able to fall into the trap of slipping into a familiar community and missing out on the cultural experience almost entirely. Save for the Udon. Obviously.

And so I cast my noodle net a bit wider.

Over the course of a week, thanks to insta-apply, I had applied to teach in India, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Taiwan and of course Korea. Cover letter. CV and passport pics flew across the cyber web with alarming speed. I got my first response by the end of the week. And I�d had my interview by the end of the second. Well, I say �interview�. It was more, �Hey, you speak English. We�re desperate, want a job?� I was pretty desperate too, so a match made in pedagogical heaven.

I had three weeks to get my stuff together. South Korea. Three weeks. I don�t know why but at the time, it really didn�t occur to me that this was a rather short amount of time to prepare for moving across the world.

But first, before packing a single sock.

The mother. I hadn�t even thought about it. About her.

This was going to be an awkward conversation. I considered sending my news via text message. It seemed like the safest bet.

In the end I rang her.

And we met for a civilised lunch.

It went remarkably and surprisingly well.

�Hey Mam, I got a job!� Trying to sound upbeat.

�That�s nice dear,� non-committedly.

Just for context, my mother is nice I swear. This reaction is not unfounded and is entirely understandable. Over the years I�ve taken many jobs. Chip shop server, waitress in a posh hotel, waitress in an Italian restaurant, waitress in a caf�, taxi operative, call centre agent. Cook, cleaner. A telephone �psychic�. So, me getting a job was hardly big news.

�Yeah� I mutter taking a swig of cider, �Um it�s in South Korea.� Almost whispering now.

�Where?�

�Um uh SSSouth Korea� I can feel my forehead pulsating. It does that sometime, irritatingly, usually in these kind of moments.

�U-huh. Doing what?� she asked suspiciously as if she might suspect that I was running away to train as a Geisha or something. Wrong country mum.

�Teaching English�

She looked relieved. Something respectable at least.

By the time we had finished our lunch (which she of course paid for given my limited resources) she was already planning her first visit.

However, reactions at the caf� were slightly less positive. Old man Thomas was particularly put out,

�What not good enough for you are we, love, think it�ll be better over there do you?�

I�m not sure if he supposed that my mission in life was to serve him bacon butties and builder�s tea for the entire life but he seemed irrationally wounded by my news.

The other regulars were supportive though, Mrs Llewellyn presented me with a little silver clock on my last day. We hugged. And somewhere in our subconscious we both knew that we would never see each other again.

Now that news had been given and the notice handed in, it was time to get onto the business of sock packing.