I can't believe what happened yesterday. I'M GOING TO TEACH ENGLISH TO PROSTITUTES!!

Now that the climax is ruined, don't feel obligated to read the rest of this...but you'll be missing a good story if you don't!

Last week, after a recent epiphany, I decided to take a much needed research trip into one of Seoul's biggest red light districts. My translator and I dressed up smart so that we would look slightly official, as this was to be an "overt" trip. We were going to march into the red light district and ask direct questions to everyone we came across. Then we'd see how much of a response we would get out of them. If they wondered, we were researching for an NGO that was comparing the differences between American and Korean prostitution (which is mostly true--we do want to know the differences and we will be an NGO at some point in the future).

As we walked through the area, women were very reluctant to talk. My translator wasn't much of a help at first either. He was in shock (since it was his first time in a red light district) and a little intimidated. He would take one look at the stern faces of the madams and rush hurriedly past. I, of course, didn't allow for such a thing and would strike up conversations on my own. My boldness seemed to encourage him.

The few women who did talk to us didn't say much. We were told that business was bad and a lot of reporters had been in the area recently. When we asked, one lady told us that a lot of the women were forced into this work because they were financially supporting their entire family. Then we were told to go to the office.

The office? I didn't know these places had offices. After looking for it for a good ten minutes I began to think the "office" was the way they confused and discouraged people to the point of exasperation, thereby getting ride of them.

But it did exist. We were finally pointed toward a steep dark staircase that led into the basement of a large building. The stairs were damp from a recent rain and dimly lit by a bare bulb. The large steel door at the bottom and an old wooden sign engraved with Chinese characters gave the whole place an ominous feeling. I felt like I was in a movie.

We walked through the door, down more steep steps and into a wide open, brightly lit concrete room. Desks were pushed off to the right, a large TV and refrigerator sat against the far wall and rows of cushioned benches filled the middle of the room. The area was deserted except for a middle aged man who greeted us suspiciously. We explained to him that we were researching and asked if he had time to answer some questions. He told us there was nothing to say, the reporters had already come and done the research. He was about to send us off at that point but hesitated (he probably hadn't had foreigners down there before) and then invited us to take a seat at a table.

Four men materialized out of no where. Two men sat across from us, a third man sat behind a big desk on our right and the forth wandered about the room. When they offered us coffee, I realized they were going to put up with us for a while. It was obvious that the man behind the desk was in charge. He explained that they were reluctant to tell us anything because the media always presented them in a bad light. "We're not bad. Out of 100 people only ten are bad. But no one ever tells about that."

We had already told them that we were not reporters but they said the reports had told them the same thing. They were not going to trust us. When we asked what the good things were that weren't being reported, the man grew passionate but vague. "There aren't gangsters here," he said.

After a few more question and some long winded replies it was evident that they were getting bored with us. It was time to go... but just one more question. How would they feel if I was to offer to teach English here? As my translator was asking the question, the old guy across the table from me laughed and announced that he wanted to learn. Others in the room thought it was a good idea, too. The guy in charge agreed and said that afternoons would be the best. There wasn't much business going on and people were available. We could even use their conference room to hold the classes in. I asked if I would even be able to teach the prostitutes and the response was, of course.

I couldn't believe it! Just like that and I was in. I had the contacts, I had the place, I had the potential students and most importantly I had the approval of the guys in charge. And it couldn't have been easier!

I now feel the future tingling in my hands. It's almost tangible. Things that have been dark and unknown are suddenly revealed. I feel myself being carried downstream on the currents of a plan far bigger than I dreamed.