Let's face it. Whether I'd like to believe it or not, Korea is just not the place to simply walk up to someone and start a conversation. Sometimes I miss this about my hometown and about my mother country as a whole--it's largely not an awkward and socially imposing thing to approach a stranger with a question, a friendly greeting, or just small talk on the street.
I'm relatively reserved about such things in my own country--pretty trusting of myself, confident in what I'm doing and where I'm going, and usually in enough of a hurry to get there that I seldom have time and reason to just chat. Here, having overcome some of the language barrier and cultural differences, I fear that's been amplified in that, sometimes, I forget, altogether, how to have such a casual conversation. People here remain pretty shy, not just in speaking to foreigners (I sometimes joke with my parents about just how overly safe I feel in a country where people are often too scared to so much as talk to me), but also to each other. From small talk to life stories, this kind of spontaneous bonding seems to have little place in Korea.
On an average weekday, the most advantageous time for me to strike up such a conversation is around 7:40 a.m, during which time I wait for my morning bus to school. My bus stop is located at a rather busy intersection that houses (what might be) the largest middle and high school campus in the city of Pyeongtaek. As such, I see plenty of young people running around (and I do mean running around), always en route to school, academies, quick dinners in between, taekwondo lessons, and if they're lucky, home. Each morning, I wait for my bus along with a half dozen other Koreans, more often than not middle and high school students departing for other parts of the city. There is always an old lady, and she always gives me curious but rather friendly head-to-toe glances in front of her snack shop. I've come to brush that off. She's friendly, but does little to no talking; rather, she just uses hand signs to convey how tall I am. We see this.
Try as I may to say a simple "hi" or "how are you?" to some of the younger queued students, they simply giggle, get embarrassed, and, if they're feeling really conversational, toss back a "fine, thank you." This happens with relatively frequency and few results.
Then, on Monday (Was it Monday? It's been a long week already...), a cold, rainy, and altogether unpleasant morning, a friendly high schooler who, after originally standing 3 or 4 meters away from me, approached me with some English after a hearty throat clear. It was awesome!
Better yet, he looked up to see I had no umbrella, and that my blazer was damp, and immediately proceeded to hold his umbrella higher so that we could share it! What a guy!
He asked me, in awesome English, "What is your job in Korea? Are you soldier?"
"No," I replied. "I'm an English teacher."
"Ah, wow, great! You are so tall, and I am happy to share my umbrella with you."
"Thank you so much, you are so nice. What is your job?"
"Hahaha, you think I am old? Thank you! I am just a high school student."
"Wow, you look very old and professional!"
"Thank you so much."
With that, my bus had arrived, and it was time to say goodbye. "Thanks for the umbrella," I turned and waved and shouted. "Have a good day!"
"You too, nice teacher! Have a good day too!"
With that, my day was off to a nice start. Why share that story? It was 30 seconds of my life, 30 seconds that I could experience every morning of every week of every month of every contract in Korea. It was 30 seconds of conversation that plenty of students and Korean people are generally capable of having. It was 30 seconds, and that's hardly enough to make someone's day, or better yet, have your day be made my someone, right?
I share that story because, after nearly 20 months in Korea, after 6 schools and a few thousand students, after hundreds of short bus rides to and from school, after all the cynicisms I may have accumulated about the utter lack of straight up, casual, for-the-hell-of-it, "how's life been?" conversation in Korea...
All it takes is an umbrella, and/or a friendly face, and/or a little English confidence to make your day in 30 seconds, to reassure you that what you're doing here is worth both your time and that of others.
It's all about the little things.
April 10, 2013
April 6, 2013
Cool As A Cucumber.
Almost everywhere I go in Korea, despite all the fast-paced aspects of life on the peninsula, despite the incessant, hurried mentality of hard work and growth across the nation, despite the short tempers of taxi and bus drivers, despite the powerful elbows of the elder women who seek to jab the sides of bystanders (especially amplified on weekend market days), I maintain that there seems to be, for all people I meet here, a certain attainable, brilliant calm to Korean people that is, at once, under-appreciated and rarely seen in its purest form.
Plainly stated, to the best of my knowledge in my 19+ months here, many folks here have seemingly learned to grow thick skin, to move on from hard ships, to put yesterday behind and simply move forward to face a new day. I too have learned a bit more about what this calm can do for one's general outlook. Last year, at my countryside job, which I still miss sometimes, a bad day was never simply a bad day. I had bad weeks, even a few bad months, and I simply hadn't grown the skin, the confidence, the teaching authority, and the flexible memory required to just let myself have a bad day and look forward to the next day. These days, with a slightly less hectic school load, one school instead of five, and a clearer understanding of my ambitions, abilities and shortcomings as a teacher, I too have learned to find this calm.
But this post is not really about me. This is something I've been meaning to communicate, in as many words as it takes, to those of you who dearly worry about us expats on the Korean peninsula. It is, of course, difficult to perfectly and logically describe everything that happens here on the ground to family and friends 7,000 miles away, but I want you to know that we're all okay.
People here, on the topic of North Korea, seem to be as cool as cucumbers. We wake up, and sure, North Korea is the main focus of morning radio shows. No surprise there. We wind down and go to sleep, and North Korea is the main focus of the nightly news shows. No surprise there. We go to school, where teachers debate, in a language that I try so desperately to grasp, seemingly everything BUT North Korea. That might be a surprise to many.
I don't remember ever having a talk about North Korea with anyone at my school. Kids seem to be more comically passionate about the issue, and some of my similar-aged Korean friends are open and concerned enough to talk about it.
I can distinctly remember the day that Kim Jong-Il passed away in December of 2011. I was shocked to read the BBC story that broke, and immediately ran to the main teachers office to alert everyone. I had, in my head, pressed some sort of panic button without any hesitation. I explained, in my broken Korean, that the former Dear Leader had kicked the bucket. Upon being told of the news, a few teachers turned around, shrugged, made a face, and returned to their computer screens. The principal thanked me for the news, and everyone went back to work. Everyone just went back to work.
A year and a half removed from that moment, nothing seems to have changed, at least in a way that I can clarify to you if you're not living on the peninsula. People here remain, for the most part, cool as cucumbers. And why is that?
It's easy enough to say that those in Korea are "desensitized" to the issue by now. I'd imagine most of you stateside would echo this sentiment. Frankly, I'm happy to be dealing with this abroad, as I can't even imagine what the West's top news dogs will do to create buzz about this story. I'm glad I'm not there to see it. I'm glad I'm here to live in. Even if I only live 100 miles from North Korea.
That makes no difference to me, nor does it to anyone here. I sincerely believe that, although we might be desensitized to this issue, that desensitization does not have to perpetuate ignorance or apathy. That is not the case, I can assure you. It's not that people in Korea have come to be so familiar with the topic and the geo-politics of it all that they forget it's all happening and cease to worry about it completely; nothing could be farther from the truth. But there's something to be said here for the way that people continue to live, knowing what they know, living where they live.
People here are busy. Ask almost anyone between the ages of, oh, 15 and 60, and they'll probably tell you how loaded their schedule is with work and study and family responsibility. You could easily make the case that people simply don't have enough hours in the day to spend much time worrying about North Korea. That's where I would start, anyway, if asked to get to the heart of why people here are as cool as cucumbers.
People here have also come to be fully aware of just how better off they are, as well. North Korea, the DPRK, is none of those things--it's not democratic, it's not a republic, it's certainly not for the people. And the effect of South Korea's rapid growth, economic and academic development, and subsequent prosperity (in some ways more than others) is hardly lost on those who live here. Koreans know where they have come from, they remain as proudly humble about it as they are eager to press forward and continue to develop the country. I think a less appreciated answer of the "why do people here stay so cool about the whole issue?" question is the very fact that people remain ever-motivated to separate themselves from the identity of North Korea, to solidify themselves on a world stage, to continue to pull the nation up by its proverbial bootstraps, and to proclaim that it's all in a day's work, it's just part of the national mentality. South Korea knows where it's been, and it seems, in many ways, to know where it's going. It can't look back, it won't look back, and nothing good will come from looking back. The fast pace of life can explain, on the surface, why the attention is not always drawn solely to the issue of North Korea, but the perpetuation to improve life, to move forward, to seek proud autonomy and honest effort might contribute as well.
This is a chaotic post for a chaotic topic. All I can say to those of you stateside is that I'm in good hands, I feel safe every day, I work with people who care about my safety and wellbeing, who have their fingers on the pulse of this issue as much as anyone, but who simply don't jump to press the panic button for a number of good, if poorly articulated by your's truly, reasons.
So all of us, Koreans and foreigners, have really learned to become cool as cucumbers on the question of North Korea. We're as tuned in as any, make no mistake. But we all have busy lives to live.
More on this to come.
Plainly stated, to the best of my knowledge in my 19+ months here, many folks here have seemingly learned to grow thick skin, to move on from hard ships, to put yesterday behind and simply move forward to face a new day. I too have learned a bit more about what this calm can do for one's general outlook. Last year, at my countryside job, which I still miss sometimes, a bad day was never simply a bad day. I had bad weeks, even a few bad months, and I simply hadn't grown the skin, the confidence, the teaching authority, and the flexible memory required to just let myself have a bad day and look forward to the next day. These days, with a slightly less hectic school load, one school instead of five, and a clearer understanding of my ambitions, abilities and shortcomings as a teacher, I too have learned to find this calm.
But this post is not really about me. This is something I've been meaning to communicate, in as many words as it takes, to those of you who dearly worry about us expats on the Korean peninsula. It is, of course, difficult to perfectly and logically describe everything that happens here on the ground to family and friends 7,000 miles away, but I want you to know that we're all okay.
People here, on the topic of North Korea, seem to be as cool as cucumbers. We wake up, and sure, North Korea is the main focus of morning radio shows. No surprise there. We wind down and go to sleep, and North Korea is the main focus of the nightly news shows. No surprise there. We go to school, where teachers debate, in a language that I try so desperately to grasp, seemingly everything BUT North Korea. That might be a surprise to many.
I don't remember ever having a talk about North Korea with anyone at my school. Kids seem to be more comically passionate about the issue, and some of my similar-aged Korean friends are open and concerned enough to talk about it.
I can distinctly remember the day that Kim Jong-Il passed away in December of 2011. I was shocked to read the BBC story that broke, and immediately ran to the main teachers office to alert everyone. I had, in my head, pressed some sort of panic button without any hesitation. I explained, in my broken Korean, that the former Dear Leader had kicked the bucket. Upon being told of the news, a few teachers turned around, shrugged, made a face, and returned to their computer screens. The principal thanked me for the news, and everyone went back to work. Everyone just went back to work.
A year and a half removed from that moment, nothing seems to have changed, at least in a way that I can clarify to you if you're not living on the peninsula. People here remain, for the most part, cool as cucumbers. And why is that?
It's easy enough to say that those in Korea are "desensitized" to the issue by now. I'd imagine most of you stateside would echo this sentiment. Frankly, I'm happy to be dealing with this abroad, as I can't even imagine what the West's top news dogs will do to create buzz about this story. I'm glad I'm not there to see it. I'm glad I'm here to live in. Even if I only live 100 miles from North Korea.
That makes no difference to me, nor does it to anyone here. I sincerely believe that, although we might be desensitized to this issue, that desensitization does not have to perpetuate ignorance or apathy. That is not the case, I can assure you. It's not that people in Korea have come to be so familiar with the topic and the geo-politics of it all that they forget it's all happening and cease to worry about it completely; nothing could be farther from the truth. But there's something to be said here for the way that people continue to live, knowing what they know, living where they live.
People here are busy. Ask almost anyone between the ages of, oh, 15 and 60, and they'll probably tell you how loaded their schedule is with work and study and family responsibility. You could easily make the case that people simply don't have enough hours in the day to spend much time worrying about North Korea. That's where I would start, anyway, if asked to get to the heart of why people here are as cool as cucumbers.
People here have also come to be fully aware of just how better off they are, as well. North Korea, the DPRK, is none of those things--it's not democratic, it's not a republic, it's certainly not for the people. And the effect of South Korea's rapid growth, economic and academic development, and subsequent prosperity (in some ways more than others) is hardly lost on those who live here. Koreans know where they have come from, they remain as proudly humble about it as they are eager to press forward and continue to develop the country. I think a less appreciated answer of the "why do people here stay so cool about the whole issue?" question is the very fact that people remain ever-motivated to separate themselves from the identity of North Korea, to solidify themselves on a world stage, to continue to pull the nation up by its proverbial bootstraps, and to proclaim that it's all in a day's work, it's just part of the national mentality. South Korea knows where it's been, and it seems, in many ways, to know where it's going. It can't look back, it won't look back, and nothing good will come from looking back. The fast pace of life can explain, on the surface, why the attention is not always drawn solely to the issue of North Korea, but the perpetuation to improve life, to move forward, to seek proud autonomy and honest effort might contribute as well.
This is a chaotic post for a chaotic topic. All I can say to those of you stateside is that I'm in good hands, I feel safe every day, I work with people who care about my safety and wellbeing, who have their fingers on the pulse of this issue as much as anyone, but who simply don't jump to press the panic button for a number of good, if poorly articulated by your's truly, reasons.
So all of us, Koreans and foreigners, have really learned to become cool as cucumbers on the question of North Korea. We're as tuned in as any, make no mistake. But we all have busy lives to live.
More on this to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)