So last week over samgyapsil, Lenn asked me if I was finally starting to feel at home.

I thought about it a moment, and yes, I am getting used to life here.  But every day there is always one culture shock or another that I’m taking way too long to get over.  I KNOW in my head it’s culture differences, but I still react with internal violence whenever it happens…

Some things I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to:

• People RUSHING to get everywhere.  The kids used to laugh at me when I would hurry after passing the curb and walking across the street – well, let me tell you, I am cool as a cucumber compared to Koreans.  Nobody just strolls here.  Everyone looks ridiculous madly rushing to shave off two minutes of their commute all day.
• Shopkeepers ruining your shopping experience by getting all up in your business.  I told some students about this cultural difference and how it bothered me.  They told me to just tell the annoying shopkeepers that you need more time.  But they didn’t understand that it’s too late by then – my western personal space has already been violated.  I feel like wearing a t-shirt that says, “BACK OFF:  let me shop in peace.”  I suppose in Itaewon or Dongdaemmon I could have this hand embroidered on a t-shirt if I wanted to.  Maybe I’ll do that!
• Women in high heels having to stand for an hour on the subways while punk boys sit and play games on their phones.  Yeah, sure – the women are stupid for wearing platform stilettos, but still…I guess I was just raised to give up my seat to the elderly, pregnant women and the handicapped.  But I also lived during the time when men would drop a woman in heels off at a door and not make her walk in heels from the parking lot as well.  I also don’t appreciate everyone laughing at the adjummas for running to grab a seat.  To my mind, they’ve been standing twenty years longer than everyone else and deserve to be offered a seat, so it’s kind of sad that they feel they won’t get one.
• Having some comment made about me almost daily.  I’m sure it’s just a cultural difference, but it still feels crappy to experience.  Every day there is one judgmental criticism after another.  And these comments come from those co-workers who are the nicest to me, and my response to such shocks takes too long to process so I haven’t been able to correct anyone.  And this happens every day, so it’s building up to the point where I’m about to explode.

List of some culturally offensive comments I have put up with:

1. Why don’t you brush your teeth after lunch?  Don’t you ever brush your teeth?
2. Your place is messy today.
3. You changed your hair again.
4. Your hair is more feminine today.
5. No socks.  You’re not wearing socks.
6. Maybe its because you wear black everyday.
7. Black must be your favorite color.
8. You look better without makeup.  More pure.
9. Where is your coat?  You should be cold.
10. You must…(insert various sundry things here)
11. You look tired.
12. You do…(insert some thing any one year old can do) very well.
13. It’s because you Americans don’t eat right.

etc., etc., etc.  Assumptions and judgments and generalizations rule the day and everything I do is under scrutiny.   And I feel gratitude for the same people who do this.  And this is crazy-making.

I was told two weeks ago that the teachers in my section would be eating out for lunch this week.  Please come.  You must come.  Can you come.

The day prior to this lunch, I am told it will be BBQ.

The day of the lunch, I am told to give 10,000 won to a certain person.  I wasn’t prepared for this so had to borrow the money from someone.

OK.  The last time two times we have gone out to eat, one person always insisted on picking up the tab for the entire crew, so it was natural to assume it would be the same.  And, since eating lunch out is often at tables with grills, it is natural to assume BBQ means grilled meat at a restaurant.

So I figured lunch would take two hours tops.

WRONG.  It took four hours.  Because when we carpooled (and this is always my worst neurotic nightmare being trapped with no exit recourses) I soon discovered we were heading far from Anyang.   I ask where we’re going.  “racecourse.”  I assume maybe there’s some great restaurant there.  We’re suddenly in a park-like setting.  I ask if the restaurant is nearby.  “no.”  We’re suddenly ascending in elevation and we pass an amusement park.  I see signs for a museum.  We park.  I ask if we are eating here. “no.  we must wait here.”  They get out.  They start walking.  They walk through the museum.  I see there’s a restaurant in the museum.  I ask if we are eating there.  “no.”  It’s now been over an hour, I’m stuck far from mass transit and far from Anyang.  I’m starving and I can tell my entire day is gone.  We walk back to the car.  Only they pass the car and walk up to a campground.  And start to pay to go in.  “you must pay.”  I tell them they can go on ahead and I’ll just wait at the car.  “no.  you must pay.”  No, I’m serious, I tell them.  “I’m serious too.  You must pay.”  So I get out what change I’ve brought and pay entrance fee to the park.  I start to complain that I feel like I’ve been kidnapped.  But my captors just keep walking without comment.  Suddenly I see other teachers carrying a grill and it all makes sense.   And then I want to cry because I haven’t had breakfast and it’s obviously going to be another hour before we eat.

So I leave them and go to a concession booth and spend my last coinage on chips and a drink.  I know it’s rude, but I figure if they are hungry they can do the same.  When I return they have already set up camp somewhere, and I go and sit 6 inches away from their blanket on a retaining wall.  “Leanne.  sit.”  They gesture to the blanket.  “You must sit.”  I tell them I’m fine on the rock (it’s more comfortable than sitting on the blanket) “No.  You must sit.”  No, really, this is great here.  “You must sit.”

Anyway, long story shorter, it was a beautiful day and the food finally got cooked and I broke rank several times for my sanity and finally got over being grumpy.

But this is the kind of problem I have here. No translation.  No regard for how I am feeling.  No data exchange.  And there is some crazy counterweight of unasked for gifts which also comes with some unasked for obligations.

For example, the P.E. teacher.  I asked Y if there were office supplies as I desperately needed folders for my lesson plans.  She started taking things from other teacher’s desks and I protested.  Then she started to take a book divider from the P.E. teacher’s desk that was barely being used, and I protested.  Then she called him and asked him if I could have it and I protested that I just wanted some folders.  So then she took me to the office (why can’t she just tell me to go to the office?) and we asked for folders.  When I returned, the P.E. teacher was cleaning off his book divider, and I told him I didn’t need it and it wasn’t necessary.  The next morning, my desk was rearranged and the $3 book divider was on my desk.

Previously, In Kyung had informed me that the P.E. teacher has a nephew that would like to speak more English.  She tells me I should get the number from the P.E. teacher.  Of course I don’t, because I’m very busy and I don’t want to give out free English lessons to the P.E. teacher’s nephew.  So about a week later, she asks me, “so did you ask the P.E. teacher for the number?”  And then another week later, “you should get the number from the P.E. teacher.”  Great.  Now there is a book divider on my desk that I didn’t want.  And I should make the effort to go out of my way to get the number of someone I don’t want to talk to.  So I give the P.E. teacher my email address and tell him that’s the best way to reach me.  The nephew wrote and I have zero desire to write him back and it’s been days now.  Someone, obviously, has informed the P.E. teacher that Leanne will be happy to coach his nephew in English.  I am frequently having my services offered out without my consultation.  Yesterday my services were offered out to coach someone on their English doctoral candidate presentation.  Maybe I want to do this, but I think I should have a say in the matter…etc., etc., etc.

So no.  It is my life.  But it doesn’t feel like home.  Despite the hospitality I receive and often because of it.  Nothing seems without strings attached here, and it feels like I am being judged constantly.  But I am becoming more innured to it every day.  Maybe one day I will quit comparing this life to life in America.  Maybe one day these cultural shocks will go away and not leave me tense and drained.

It’s all these little nit-picky things that leave me feeling like I’ve been covered with sugar and tied down with stakes and insects are feasting on me.  And the onus is all on ME to adjust and accept this treatment.

I suspect the white foreigner is allowed to be so many things that I am not, and my interest in my birth culture also seems to mean I owe Korea something.  I am obligated to represent Korea in some manner.  Which just makes me want to put a bone through my nose, get a really dark dark tan, and be really loud and obnoxious.

I miss being allowed to be like this:

vs. being held up to this perfect thing most people can never be and which I would never want to be:

More and more, I am beginning to see why the returning adoptee community seek each other out.  Our experience is unique and frustrating on so many levels, and nobody else can relate to it.  But even that kind of reaching out takes extra energy, and I don’t know how much is left.

Yesterday I saw something disturbing:

Take this photo

(this was from some blog about Hong Kong)

Now, instead of the beggar being on the sidewalk of Hong Kong, place him in Seoul.  Now, take away his hat and instead place his arms extended and palms upturned in a cup formation.  Now, place the begger at the entrance of a subway station, but not at the opening – no – halfway down the granite steps. And not just perpendicular across multiple steps, no – his upper torso was fully prone, running the length of ONE TREAD.  THE most formal of bows, his forehead touching the ground.

It was an amazing site, this man bowing the most reverent, supplicant bow in the worst possible conditions, blocking the stairs, a hundred people trying to get around him, totally silent but for his outstretched hands and what they were saying.

I could have taken a photo.  I should have taken a photo.  I should have fought the crowd and put some money in his hands.  I should have turned around.  But I couldn’t have taken a photo without giving him money, and I wouldn’t have given him money without feeling guilty for wanting to photograph him.  And as I was debating this, my legs were still carrying me forward and deeper into the subway system.

Y me to Ansan to exchange my driver’s license today! Woo hoo!

We went to Ansan because that was the license office she knew how to get to. Fortunately, there was hardly anybody there and it only took about twenty minutes. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anybody there who spoke any English. Fortunately, Young-a was there to translate for me (even though she was toying with me and wanted to see how far I could get without her there – the result was, not very. Although, I have never used the phone translation service for foreigners, so that supposedly is always an option to call that and hand the phone to whoever I’m trying to talk with)

Yayy! So even though my U.S. license expires next year, the Korean government realizes that it’s nothing to renew it. Therefore, this license is good for nine years. All I had to do was give them my U.S. license and show them my passport and alien registration card, give them (3) 2cm. x 3 cm. photos, (they also had a photo booth there for 5,000 won) give them 5,000 won and purchase another 6,000 won stamp and take an eye exam. I just have to return to Ansan to get the original back when I leave Korea. Now, I can rent a car whenever I want and drive all over Korea.

All the rules of driving are the same as in the states, and the only difference is turning left has its own traffic light, so traffic continuing forward must sit through another red and also a yellow light during that time.

…and why we need English teachers…

and why Korean choreographers need to be lined up and shot.

yeah.

“if you wanna pretty.  every wanna pretty.”

and maybe their lyricists too…

This hugely popular song is one of the biggest jokes amongst all of us English teachers, one that is totally lost on the population here.

But what concerns me most is not turning an adjective into an infinitive and then a verb, it’s the way in which the girls are portrayed.  THIS is the pinnacle of attractiveness in a young female here.

She must:

• remain forever a child to control
• she is allowed to be sexy  through coyness
• yet must retain some innocence – through cutesy actions and perkiness

I am guessing aside from the ample amount of leg shown, not much has changed in the past fifty years.  No.  I’m not guessing.  If these old movies I watch are any indication, it is still the same society.  The women are there as vestal virgins, and if they aren’t virgins they are whores, so that virginal demeanor must be extended as long as humanly possible.

This will seem like a non-sequitor, but bear with me:  some of the foreigners here have walked into night clubs and been kicked out for not being Korean.  That’s because here in Korea a night club is what is known as a booking club in Korea-towns in the states.  It is a socially acceptable way for Korean women to hook up and still put up the front of being virginal.  It’s a compromise between Confuscian male/female heirarchy and modern loose morals.  So women come together in groups, for the appearance of chaperoneing one another.  They dance with each other, and then interested men pay a waiter to inform the girls of their interest.  The waiter then drags the girl, protesting, over to the men’s tables where they have a sort of speed date and the girl gets to chat politely or excuse herself saying her friends are waiting, or arrange to meet the guy for sex later and excuse herself from her friends.  It’s also a way for married women to have casual sex on the side by calling it going out with girlfriends.  And it’s a way for Korean men to meet dozens of girls in one evening.  And this is why it’s NOT okay for foreigners.  And the reason I’m bringing it up is because it’s 2009 and it’s crazy to me that all this protocol has to be invented and acted out just to get down and dirty.  And this is one reason I can’t go to a bar and have a drink by myself, because I would attract only those who had no good intentions because obviously if I had any class, I would at the very least be at a night club or at church.

And it’s because women’s status here hasn’t really changed at all.  Their primary purpose in life is still to meet a man and get married, and then produce offspring.  And the way to a man’s heart is by being forever childlike.  And so the women here are infantalized all the time.  And it drives me insane.

And it kind of hurts me too, because children ARE sexy.  Because sex is often power and children are vulnerable.  And a female girl-child/woman-child, sheltered to an extreme and conditioned to attract will often put themselves in vulnerable positions and then not be able to take care of themselves.  And then we end up with naive pregnant girls and babies relinquished out of shame and hopes to restore some manner of virginity. For what is a slut anyway, except a person who’s lost hope of ever restoring their dignity?  And for many of these child-women in this framework, sometimes it only takes one mis-step to be sentenced to being one.  So bastard children must be sent away and erased, as if any transgressions never took place, in the hopes there might still remain a place for them in society.

This shit has got to end.  The cuteness has got to stop.  The women need to empower themselves and find personal satisfaction  that elevates them above these ancient social structures.  The girls need to have a time in their lives where they are women before bearing children.  These women need to learn to love themselves and their bodies for themselves and not for how they are valued by others. And they need to stop imposing this cycle upon their own children…

I want to help single mothers keep their babies and take pride in that effort.  I want to improve social welfare for women subject to domestic abuse.  I want to keep privileged white women away from Korea’s children long enough for there not to be a reason or need for transracial, international adoption.

I mean to be a monkey wrench in this machine.  Somehow, some way.

• You get really grumpy when people don’t say thank you.
• You are looking at the second hand when SOMEONE ELSE is talking long distance.
• You think being in front of a camera is something shy of going to the dentist, only more formal:  You expect to pay a lot and get a free comb.

Okay.  So that was my day today.  The last one being at YTN studios.

I am SOOOOO  NOT  making love to cameras.  I don’t think I did very well, because they asked me to do it over again.  And afterward, they said, “the first one was better.”  It’s okay.  They can edit it.

Anyway, I actually had no idea what YTN is.   I only saw little clips of adoptees asking their families to come forward on a website link.  Turns out YTN is a major news station and half of Korea will be watching me on Thursday.  Yayy.  (repeat that – with a dry, sarcastic tone)

But at least it wasn’t live t.v., and at least there nobody watching was hoping I would weep.  I thanked them a lot.  All five of the crew who spent a half hour with me for a minute and  a half piece.

I bought the translator a Starbucks coffee afterwards, and we chatted a bit.  She seems to think YTN will produce successful results.  Her last translation volunteering job was at a reunion, and she said it wasn’t weepy at all.  A lot of apologies expressed, but mostly relief on everyone’s part.  That particular family had been searching for their daughter for years, but had finally given up.  But I think I made her uncomfortable, talking about being lonely and the non-existant avenues for dating I have here, and though she stayed quite a while, I could tell she was relieved to go.  I seem to make the young translators uncomfortable.  Thank God Eun Seong didn’t run away and is now my tutor…

And after that, I hit Namdaemmun market.  Yes, another market.  Because it was right there and I had an afternoon to kill.  But I blew some money too.  What a jerk I am.  Now I’ve got an upcoming week off with hardly any money.  Stupid.  Also, the hidden costs of doing anything adoption related or meeting anyone in Seoul is the price of Starbucks and eating on the run.  The consumables alone equaled the price of the folding purse umbrella I bought…(but it’s a really cute one from Japan.  Again, I’m stupid, as there were Chinese ones all around me for a tenth of the price.  But at least it won’t break with one gust of wind)

Namdaemmum market is twice the size of Anyang’s.  Only it isn’t in an arcade.  It is more of a street market, mostly uncovered and fronting small shops.  The food section was similar to the other markets (with less by-product foods) and yet the bulk of the market was a potpourri of cheap goods from (probably) China and Thailand.  There was one section where it became apparent all the best dressed adorable children in Seoul’s parents must shop:  basically a whole block of children’s boutiques. There seemed to be more handcrafts there, yet I couldn’t figure out if they were really Korean or not.  And there were also a lot of Korean souvenirs, a Tourist information booth, and a money exchange booth.  It was as genuine and real as the other markets but in different ways  – I mean, picture fifteen adjummas sifting through a mountainous pile of cheap clothes from China while someone is barking out what a good deal they are.  It doesn’t get much more real than that.  There are also a lot of foreigners souvenir shopping because they heard about it like I heard about it:  on the subway map, listed as a must-see.  There are no souvenirs at the other markets I’ve been to.  And parts of it seemed even MORE market-like, as I saw in Jamaica, because there were men pushing precariously over-flowing hand carts through narrow alleys and pushing their way through the crowd and adjummas carrying things on their heads.  There were also a few narrow narrow alleys, so narrow (will return and photograph later) that were dark due to overlapping tents and tarps, so those parts have a smaller scale that feels both scarey and ancient.  And I did happen across a couple of dive restaurants.  But only a handful.

Namdaemmum, though bigger, feels less like its own magic world/way back machine than Anyang’s market did, though.  But it’s full of treasures you can’t find at a regular traditional market – like wrapping paper shops and beauty supply houses, tatami mats (pi), bead stores and hair ornament stores.

I didn’t even get to the undeground fashion market at Namdaemmum.  I just headed home, took out my garbage, and then put this old body to bed.

I’ve been doing a little research on cultural things to learn while in Korea.  Aside from the museums and living museums/folk villages, there hasn’t been too much to go by, since the majority of Koreans live this urban lifestyle.

But I have found a few things and have been running them past my fellow Korean teachers.  These are mostly things they wouldn’t be interested in going to, because it’s mundane to them, and if it’s archaic it can stay that way for all they care.  The history teacher is beginning to become amused by my anthropological curiosity.  “Pretty soon, you will be an expert on Korea and you will have to teach us!”

One interesting project (since I am limited to what’s on-line and in English right now) is called Invil.

It was a project instituted to get remote villages connected to the internet and ultimately keep the villages from dying.  The age of the residents is much older than in Seoul, since many of the children separated from their parents during the economic expansion and some of the parents didn’t want to give up their family homes.  I wonder what the fate of these homes is after the old people pass away, since most young people will probably sell.

It’s about three years into the project, and some of the villages have set up kind of eco-tourism type things.  Homestays and classes are slated in the future.  For the villages around Seoul, I believe they are beginning to become popular with Seoul residents, vs. as a tourist thing.  (One of the girls in my classes actually goes and gardens at one every weekend)  So I find visiting these villages really compelling.

Wednesday Y’s going to take me to exchange my driver’s license for a Korean one.  She didn’t think it was a good idea because I can’t use the GPS in Korea.

Most people here with cars have a GPS system on their dashboard so they can find places, since the street names are irrelevant here.   I’ve watched the cabbies use this, and there seems to be multiple ways of finding an address.  Even if you have just  a zip code, you can at least hone in an an area.  And the GPS system tells you audibly (in Korean) in advance when to turn, etc.

The scarey thing is a lot of these double as t.v. screens and many cabbies are watching t.v. while they drive.  The driving doesn’t seem insane like in Jamaica or Thailand – there is definitely order to everything.  There is quite a bit of rolling through red lights, the buses change lanes as if they were sports cars, and the scooter delivery drivers will show up out of nowhere.  There’s too much horn use, in my opinion.   Also, toll highways seem to be the norm and people use some card to pay.  I am not sure if this is a T-money card or not.  (T-money is the subway card which also works on the buses.  You just refill them whenever they run out.  Used to be you could also get t-money charms for your cell phones, but now your SIM card can double as a T-money card as well, and you can place your phone in a re-charging machine)  I find a card is handier than messing with my phone, but that’s just personal preference.

Then, I will be able to rent a car on the weekends and go visit some of these places.  At these places, I will be able to learn to extract sea salt, catch fish, plant rice, see rural pottery being made, learn straw crafts, stay in a straw hut, forage for wild plants, go mushrooming, etc. etc.  Y saw the photos and cautioned me that these places didn’t look that good in person, and I knew that just from my time volunteering at the organic farm the year before.  But I’m undeterred by all the nay-sayers and think this is a valuable thing to do.  Much more valuable to me than going clubbing on the weekends.  And the idea of going to a place where there are 400 residents, as opposed to 12 million I find really appealing too.

Like everything, I wish I had a Korean speaking friend who wanted to go with me.  Hell, I wish I had a partner in life.  But I don’t.  So I will try and absorb as much of this as I can on my own, even if I don’t know what the hell they are saying to me.

I AM going to learn to make my own straw sandals, damnit!