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.
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