I’m going through one of those moments in life when I’m wondering what else the world can stack onto my shoulders. A few overseas schools think I might be a good addition to their staff. I’ve taught in Korea before; can I do it again?
I abhor my current job — my full-time gig, not the Colorado Daily — so maybe I should put in my two weeks’ notice. Or should I stick around and extend my apartment lease? Every night, I’m serenaded by car alarms and people fighting outside. What should I do about my current relationship?
I already had plenty of questions (if you missed last week’s column, check it out at coloradodaily.com/columnists/casey-freeman), but what the heck else do I need to consider if I move to another continent?
Salary is a huge concern. Will I live like a king or barely eke it out? Will I pad my savings account or fall behind on my effing student loans?
I’m going to have to study the public transportation available. Do they have bike lanes? Should I buy a car? Can I use my phone while walking? Should I make sure not to pick my nose on the street because of CCTV?
If walking is the way to go, I’ll need to know the proper etiquette for crossing the street. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Walkers always have the right of way in London — always. In NYC, you kind of hope and beg and pray you’ll be OK whether on the street or sidewalk. Chicagoans stop at yellow lights but rarely use turn signals. Drivers in Korea consider traffic rules mere suggestions. Being a pedestrian in Boulder depends on how drunk, high and weather-ready the drivers are.
Food and drink is a whole other can of worms. Can I drink the water, or do I need to keep poo-poo pills with me? Will there be pizza and beef jerky? I’ve seen non-Americans foam at mouth over Twizzlers, Oreos and ketchup-flavored chips (Canadians are weird). I’m happy to try new food, but no dogs or frogs.
When I want to get into shape, what kind of gym will I find? Can I run outside, rock climb or roll Jiu Jitsu? I hope my options are more than yoga, yodeling or ‘yaking (that’s a new word I just invented for kayaking). Or am I just supposed to accept my body the way it is?
Health insurance could be a dream or a nightmare. Will they accept that I’ve got a preexisting condition (epilepsy), or will I need to redo the same tests I’ve done three times? When I eventually bash my face onto something, will stitches cost me a month’s salary or will a med student sew me together for school credit — without wearing gloves? Will docs dole out buckets of prescription painkillers, or will I need to break a bone before I can get a child’s aspirin?
Dang, I’m still not done with queries. Check back for more next week … if I’m still in the country.