Waiting for a Wide Horse Sky. Elaine Kennedy

their sixties. One grey-haired lady caught my eye.

      ‘Oh, you’re the one Mr. Kim is looking for.’ As she spoke I saw a very young Korean man heading towards me.

      ‘You are late! Why are you so late?’ His anger was palpable. There was no chance he was joking. ‘We must go straight to the bus.’

      He strode off without looking back, expecting us all to follow him. An attractive African American girl put a hand on my shoulder and gave a ‘Heil Hitler’ salute in his direction, followed by a deep bubbly laugh. She introduced herself as Marilyn. A young man from the group grabbed my large suitcase with his free hand and tried to catch up with our impatient leader.

      On the bus some of my fellow travellers introduced themselves while we waited for the bags to be stowed. Marilyn told me she was Jamaican but had lived most of her life in the USA. She took the seat next to me and introduced me to several others, among them Amos, a sixty year old African American from Miami, and Olga, an English woman in her fifties. Marilyn told them that I had come from Australia and therefore had been on a different flight from theirs and that was the reason I was late.

      ‘So you’re the one “Little Hitler” is hyperventilating about,’ Olga said, and everyone near us laughed. It did seem a bit extreme.

      The view from the bus was mainly of the highway with its high barriers on either side, but there were glimpses of mountains and fields with the typical summery misty haze. Occasionally we passed a farmhouse or saw a solitary cyclist on the narrow strips of road that give access to the rice paddies.

      These scenes reinforced the idea that much of Korea would be similar to Japan, where I had lived before, and that I would feel at home. But I would soon be disillusioned. Indeed, the treatment we had received on arrival was a small taste of a culture that is much tougher on foreigners than that of its near neighbour.

      After three hours the bus stopped at the entrance to the accommodation building of the Korean National University of Education, in Chonju, where we would spend the first four weeks in an orientation program. A list pinned to the notice board in the foyer informed us of our room numbers. The stairway opposite led to two upper floors. All the ground floor had been filled by earlier arrivals. Thomas, a retired professor from Ohio, looked quite distressed, trying to pull his heavy suitcase up the stairs, until a helpful and more athletic man picked it up.

      ‘I can come back for mine, don’t worry,’ the younger man said, then winced and asked, ‘What have you got in here, bricks?’

      The professor looked rueful and said, ‘I couldn’t bear to leave my books behind … a whole year without Shakespeare …’ His voice trailed off up the stairs. I was grateful to be offered help with my luggage, and soon found my neat little room on the second floor.

      An announcement over the loudspeaker noted that we were late in arriving and would need to be ready to meet in the foyer to be taken to the dining room in ten minutes time. That plan fell a bit flat when at least half of the group was late coming down, most of them dressed casually. I wondered if I would look silly dressed in business clothes but felt relieved when we were given a terse reminder later in the evening to dress appropriately at all times, meaning formally.

      When the rest had gathered, we were greeted by a Korean girl, wearing a uniform a little like a bank teller’s, who offered to lead the way to the dining room. We followed her for quite some distance, skirting a sports field and several large buildings until we came to another building, identical to the ones we had passed, and were led up to the third floor, where a smorgasbord was laid out.

      The sun had almost set and the air was hot, but balmy rather than oppressive. Trays piled with neatly cut watermelon looked inviting. Salads and some tempting cooked meats created a party mood where we had begun to feel overly regimented. We enjoyed the meal and started to relax. Maybe it was the tension from travelling and the new environment that had been causing us to feel stressed.

      Other people were also coming to Korea to work. All of us hoping for a wide horse sky, a new beginning – looking for a fresh start. Some would come under very different circumstances, many to intolerable situations that I could not have imagined. For now there were enough challenges.

      The sun coming through the open curtains woke me early. I was used to the pale winter sun in Australia and it surprised me to see that it was just after five o’clock in the morning. It was way too early to get up but I knew I could never get back to sleep. An early morning walk around the grounds seemed appealing as I hadn’t seen much of my surroundings last night.

      As I finished getting ready I heard shouting outside. Looking from the window I saw four of the younger members of the group returning from a jog. I waved as I passed them on my way to explore the grounds. I noticed a gate in the back wall of the university and couldn’t resist a quick look outside: the hills and greenery looked so peaceful. I was determined to come back later when there was more time to see what was further along the track.

      Breakfast was again set up in buffet style. Everyone helped themselves and moved to the larger room, forming little groups. Marilyn was already sitting at an otherwise unoccupied table. She smiled broadly at me as she patted the chair next to her and then as I walked over with my plate of food Marilyn looked behind her and then patted two more chairs. Behind me were Amos, tall and lanky, dressed casually in jeans and a checked, short-sleeved shirt, and Olga wearing an A-line skirt, a cool cotton top and open-toed sandals that showed off her painted toenails.

      ‘Such beautiful toenails. Is that their natural colour?’ teased Amos. Olga laughed a throaty smoker’s laugh.

      We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast together, then it was time to move to the lecture room. I didn’t know what to expect but I was looking forward to the sessions. First there was a roll-call and then each of us was given a leather writing compendium and a brief-case as we were marked present. As an introduction we were told what was required of us and what the itinerary would be for the next four weeks. We were expected to learn some of the language, both written and spoken, and also about the history of Korea. In two weeks time we would tour the country and visit places of cultural significance.

      At this point Mr. Kim interrupted, noting that several people were absent. The pleasant atmosphere was shattered. As he was getting into full flight a slightly built American girl entered the room, looking for a seat and a desk.

      ‘Why are you so late?’ Where had we heard that before? Surprisingly the girl mustered her energy and matched his volume and anger.

      ‘I just woke up. I am jet-lagged. What do you expect?’ Each word was separate and emphatically articulated, her slim form rigid with stress.

      The effects of the heat and, for some, jet lag, became apparent as the morning wore on. Most of the group found it difficult to acclimatise to the extreme temperature. An Indian girl dressed in a full sari sat on the ledge of an open window at morning break and almost fell when she fainted from the heat. Two of the other students caught her just in time.

      Two weeks of lectures followed and the first tour was to begin on the following Saturday.

      * * * *

      Early in the morning we were packed into two buses and started for the first location near Gyeongju, the old capital of Korea. We stayed in a five star hotel for three nights and were treated to some interesting sights by day. First were the burial sites of the former royalty of Korea. They were similar to the pyramids of Egypt, although these stone structures were covered with grassy mounds like large half marbles. One tomb that was open to the public had treasures displayed behind glass cases and the uncovered remains of one of the kings.

      Despite the signs forbidding it, Olga was determined to take photographs of the artifacts in the king’s tomb and the remains of the king himself.

      ‘You’re flirting with death, woman. Kim the Terrible is right behind you,’ Amos warned.

      ‘So stand on this side to hide me! Elaine, if you stand next to him I won’t be seen.’

      With unusual luck Olga got away with it, even with the flash lighting up the dim interior.

      The