literacy narrative - richard marley

8/10/2019 Literacy Narrative - Richard Marley

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Richard Marley

UWRT 1101

Instructor: Malcolm Campbell

30 September 2014

An Idiot Abroad

“Annyeonghaseyo!” The first word I heard when I stepped off the plane in Inchon. I had

no idea what that meant, I assumed it was a greeting of some form. I was right. “Ann-hey-yong-

hah-say-yo,” I tried to reply back while blushing. The tiny Korean flight attendant gave a warm,

friendly smile and patted my shoulder as I walked on to try and find my bags. The airport was

gargantuan. Bright lights everywhere, little kiosks with food, Korean named airport stores with

goods I‟ve never seen before, everything labeled with squiggly lines and little circles (I would

find out later that the written Korean language is called Hangul or한글.) Thankfully it was an

international airport so English titles were under almost every major sign which made it easier to

navigate. I remember walking down a large white marble terminal with my assault pack on (large

army backpack.) I was wearing Jeans, a black hoodie, and white tennis shoes that I used for PT

(physical training) I was just trying to keep it comfortable for the 18 + hour flight. Walking down

that terminal I passed by so many people that were noticing my size, it made me feel weird. At

the time I was a slender 155 lbs. still at 5‟11” and the shoes probably added another inch so an

even 6‟ tall. Not to say that there aren‟t tall Koreans, they‟re just rarer than someone my size in

the states where I‟m completely average. After walking for what seemed like 10 miles and riding



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a speedy little Samsung tram to the exit of the airport I finally found the United States Armed

Forces Korea booth that I needed to check in with.

The man behind the tiny gray partition was about my age and 6‟3”. He was wearing the

Army Service Uniform, our dress uniform. You could see his ribbon decorations gleaming from

across the hall. “How‟s it going man?” he almost whispered. “Um, alright I guess. Why are you

talking so quietly?” I hadn‟t noticed the time because of my haste to get here, but it was almost

3am Korean time… and I was a day in the future. After signing in, he checked his watch and

rushed me out the door because the last shuttle to Yongsan (the name of the base I was to be

stationed at) was about to pull off. I panicked when he returned inside after hastily pointing to

one of the three large plum colored tour busses sitting outside the terminal. I boarded the one I

assumed he was pointing at especially because it had a little “USAG-Y” plate on the side which I

thought meant, “United States Army Garrison – Yongsan.”

I was unusually chipper for this time of night, probably because the time I was used to

was approximately 2pm… paired with the fact that I was in a foreign country and on my way to

my first real duty assignment in the Army. Fast forward an hour and some change and I see a

large concrete wall leading up to a 4 story high concrete ceiling, housing probably 6 Korean

soldiers that were wearing the US uniform with different patches. I thought I had been put on the

wrong bus. There was no way Korean gate guards would be at an American post. I started

freaking out and ran to the front of the luxury tour bus moving my hands over the soft seats,

tripping over a Korean guy on my way. He muttered something in Korean that I didn‟t

understand so I said, “Sorry,” and walked up to the driver. I tapped on the shoulder of his torn,

smelly leather jacket and said, “Is this Yongsan?” He replied quickly with, “Nay.” My heart sank



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(it sounded like “NAY” which I thought was “NO.”) “Sir, I‟m in the Ar..,” The guard walked on

the bus just then cutting me off. I turned around to see him standing there in American ACUs

(Army Combat Uniform) with Hangul patches where his name and service should be, and he had

a South Korean Flag in place of the American Flag. “Sir, may I

please see your identification card.” It wasn‟t a question, and

the way the words flowed out of his mouth sounded almost

robotic. I fumbled through my wallet to find my card to present

the man. While he studied the card I noticed that he had on an

American army unit patch (image 1) I immediately recognized

the patch as the 65th

Medical Brigade (the unit I was assigned to, I had done my research.) I

asked the guard if this was Yongsan. He replied, “Yes, home of the 65th

Medical Brigade, 1st

Signal Brigade, 501st Military Intelligence Brigade, and the 35

th Air Defense Artillery Brigade!”

He had practiced that once or twice, this time he sounded even more robotic than before. I asked

him why the driver had told me that this wasn‟t Yongsan which finally brought him out of

scripted answer mode into a more natural speech. He first asked the driver something in Korean,

then responded to me with, “He says that he said this IS Yongsan.” I was so confused. “No, he

said „Nay‟ when I asked him.” A smile… finally a human emotion coming though. “In Korean

„Neh‟ means yes!” I nodded and smiled back. I tried to say the phrase that the flight attendant

had said to me earlier that night because I assumed it was friendly, “Ahn-ee-yong-hockey-yo.” I

fucked it up… He laughed and scribbled something down on a pad to hand me.

Annyeonghaseyo. Ahn-ee-ong-ha-sey-oh. Hello.



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I turned a difficult to describe shade of red, I can only assume it was about the color of a fire

truck. I then said back, “Ah nee ong ha sey oh. Annyeonghaseyo. Hello.” I nailed it that time.

The guard walked back off the bus and to his post, I sat down and folded the note to put in my

wallet. The stutter and release of the air brakes set the bus back in to motion.

We stopped again probably five minutes later at The Dragon Hill Lodge. A massive,

opulent, adorned, red brick building that was easily 8 stories tall with a basement. Walking into

the foyer upon marble floors was reminiscent of the airport at Inchon and you are met with the

sweet smell of the bakery downstairs and a light piano playing in the background. After checking

in and schlepping my green Army duffel bags to the elevator and down the never-ending hallway

I arrived at a heavy wooden door with the number 215 in white on a forest green placard. I

stumbled into the room and made a B line for the light switch… nothing. There was a card

beside the light that had more Korean symbols on it that I didn‟t understand. I spent 2 hours

trying to turn on the lights in the room with only the light of the television to help me. After

giving up, showering in the dark, using the restroom on a foreign toilet in blackness, and getting

dressed, I noticed a tiny sign near the room telephone saying to place the room key in a slot by

the phone for room lighting. I decided right then do formal learning of the Korean language, this

was going to be a long year.

literacy narrative - richard marley

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