I haven’t had my hair cut for almost four months since coming to Ireland. I don’t know even how much it costs here- didn’t bother to ask when it was so obvious that it would be extremely expensive. Given the fact that I used to be a monthly visitor to a beauty parlour, you can easily imagine what a hideous look I have by now. Or, on the assumption that you should be a generous, sympathetic person, a pity for my devastation might be expected. Indeed, it just devastates me. Among ill temper, funny eyebrows and other inheritances that I’d rather not be given, if it was my choice, the most stressful one is this stupidly powerful “curly hair” gene. Since my mother stopped doing my hair, it has never looked neat and tidy. It seemed as if my hair had its own will. Still, I could somehow maintain a bit of decency, thanks to my frequent visit to a beauty parlour- I didn’t realize that until I could not afford monthly cut any longer.

Actually, despite my great love for beauty parlours and hairdressers, I was by no means one of the big sisters, who spent hundreds of euros at one visit.(in my country’s currency, Won, it even goes up to HUNDREDS THOUSANDS Wons.) I would merely get a trim and shampoo, nothing more. It may sound strange, but I had no faith in a beauty parlour. Let alone expensive perm or special treatment, I simply didn’t believe a haircut would make me look nicer since my hair looked crazy all the same right after getting cut. The only reason for regular visits was the sense of being taken care of. The gentle stroke of fingers on the scalp, through strands of hair, was irresistible. I loved it when they washed my hair, asking if water is too cold of hot for me. I even thought I would ask my boyfriend(if I happen to have one, ever) to do that. I never did.

Four months without a haircut taught me that getting a haircut meant more than just being comfortably looked after. Synergy between untrimmed curly hair and wind is incredibly working on me. I thought my hair was out of control, but it wasn’t back then. NOW it is. Ironically, seeing my pics taken these days, my friends wondered if I got my hair permed-obviously not because it was fashionable. It looked so tremendously curly that they could hardly imagine it was anything but intended.

Maybe I’ll have to buy a hair dryer after all? 

journal* 
2009/05/03 07:36, mari.

I got a job at KFC last week. Until then, I was on the verge of jumping into any job that I could get(that is, except for prostitution.). After giving out more than 40 copies of my CV and getting only two interviews, it felt like being in heaven to have a job, though it was in a fast food restaurant.

Back in my home country, I would never have considered applying for a job at a fast food restaurant. Not that it’s not in my league…hell, no. OK, I admit it. It really was not in my league. Even in my most desperate moment (which means mildly troublesome), there was no way that anyone could make me take such a job. Considering all the hard work, their wage is so modest that it is almost humiliating. In fact, every sane person has wider(hence better) selection on the matter of choosing a job. In other places such as pubs, diners, or any small shops, though there is no great difference in wages, they don’t have to labour like a horse. It is mostly high school students who work in fast food restaurants, having no better choices.

Before coming to Ireland, tutoring used to be my major source of income. Teaching English (only for exams) in Korea is fatal to your mental health; when you know that you are teaching them just for their score’s sake. You know they are not going to be able to speak English. It’s all about choosing the right A, B, C or D answer on tests. That is what you are struggling to death with to get into children’s small heads. I hated my job with passion naturally. Still, there was haughty sense of dignity in being a teacher. (oh, and definitely better wages than Mc or KFC.) I took a certain amount of respect for granted. After all, I belonged to the “educated” class back then. (though it is true that few people are not in this social class)

 Here in Ireland, mopping the greasy floor of KFC, I get paid a princely sum which is far more than I had got for tutoring. Co-workers are nice and friendly. I would not say it’s stress-free, but it requires less attention and responsibility. Now that I have a secure grip on a part time job which I was desperately looking for, surely I must be very happy?

To be honest at the risk of being seen as an ungrateful, greedy creature, I’m not. I mean, I’m relieved and happy of course, but after the sheer joy was gone I began to see what had changed; the social class in which I now belong is a humbler one. Whatever education I have received in Korea(a.k.a. English) is hardly noticeable here. The reality that had never come to my mind before, when I dreamed of living abroad, manifested itself. While I secretly imagined having a brilliant career in New York, spending most evenings surrounded by people from all over the world, now I know counting coins behind a till, day and night, is a more likely scenario.

Believe it or not, I find it quite funny that one can be in such a totally different class when they are exactly the same as before- with the same amount of knowledge, not more or less. I had thought the biggest change that I would encounter in Ireland would be getting through without Starbucks. However, here I am, a former English teacher reborn as a foreign labourer.

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블로그에 올릴게 하도 없어서 간간이 쓰고 있는 영어 에세이라도 올릴까 싶은 마음에 카테고리 신설
답글은 굳이 영어로 달지않으셔도 됩니다;

journal* 
2009/05/03 07:34, mari.