Korea Countdown: 40 weeks

I have 40 weeks left in my teaching contract. That's 40 weeks in Korea, 40 weeks to eat rice and kimchi, and 40 weeks to fight my way onto the subway after work at night.

Wow. I have no other word to describe my feeling.

I recently told Karen (another teacher) about my countdown. She pondered the thought for a moment and said, "You know, Alice, 40 is a pretty symbolic number."

Hmmm... That's true. Jesus was tempted in the desert for 40 days. It rained for 40 days and 40 nights. The Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. It seems to me that nothing easy happens in sets of 40. I told Karen that. She just smiled one of her patient smiles and said, "But I think your 40 weeks will be good."

Well, I didn't say anything about them being not good. I just said they won't be easy.

It's kind of like kimchi. Quite honestly, there's nothing pleasant about 40 more weeks of kimchi. But if kimchi is as healthy as they say, I'll be in the best shape of my life by the time I leave!

Identity Crisis?

Today is my birthday. Well, my American birthday according to the solar calendar, at least.

Actually, it's easy to get confused about my age here. Yesterday I was 22 (American age) and 24 (Korean age). Today I am 23 (American age), but still 24 (Korean age). Confused yet?

Here is how the Korean age system works:
You are 1 year old when you are born. Then on January 1, everyone turns another year older. So, for example, if you are born on December 31, you are 1 year old. Then the next day you become 2 years old. Interesting, huh? So on January 1, I will become 25 (Korean age), but still remain 23 (American age).

To be quite honest, I'm never really quite sure how old I am. I have to think for a moment before I tell anyone my age. And now that I think about it, I won't actually turn 23 for another couple of hours due to the time difference. (I was born at 8am, which is 10pm here.)

Hmmm...perhaps I am having an identity crisis. I'm simultaneously two different ages. I'm not always sure I can handle it. But at least I remain in the double digits.

And if I decide to be my Korean age, then I will decrease in age when I return to the U.S. Hmmm...I guess that's not all bad!

Cultural Negotiation

I have been in Korea long enough to pass the honeymoon phase of cultural adjustment. I simply don't notice the bright lights anymore. And more than that, I have come to realize that there are some things I seriously dislike about this culture--like crowded subways and exorbitant coffee prices, for instance! And on a deeper level, I hate indirect communication and "saving face" and unsolicited advice and the focus on personal appearance.

I know I sound judgmental, but I struggle to express my observations in any other way. Someone told me this is the negotiation phase of my culture shock. It's the time for nitty-gritty conversation with the culture about its values and methods and seemingly incoherent ways of dealing with the world. It's time for me to tell the culture that even though I understand on one level, I cannot bring myself to the level of understanding that leads me to adopt many of its ways. And I must tell it that there are some things which absolutely disgust me.

For instance, 61.5% of all Korean women between 25 and 29 have had some kind of plastic surgery. Advertisements for beauty products flood the streets. Parents offer plastic surgery to their high school children as graduation gifts. Women go on crash diets all the time, but people rarely talk about eating disorders or emotional disorders. Businesses can refuse to hire based on appearance, and everyone who applies for a job has to attach a picture to their resume.

And I don't understand why when there is a conflict, it's not polite to talk to a person directly. A third person is always the go-between.

And I don't understand "noon chee," this mind-reading ability you are supposed to have to allow you to know what other people are feeling without asking them.

And I don't know why middle-aged married women seem to feel they are free to offer unsolicited advice (criticism, according to American perspectives) to anyone they want.

But somewhere along the line last week, I realized something important, something that might help me through this cultural negotiation. In America, there are many different ways to do things and seemingly as many different standards as there are stars. (And of course, that causes many problems in its own right.) But in Korea, there is only the right way and the wrong way. Double eyelids and a big nose are beautiful. Single eyelids and a flat nose are not. Period. No questions asked.

I am deeply saddened by some things I see in this culture. I am deeply frustrated by others. And despite all these, there are some things I have learned to like and appreciate.

So here's the beginning of my negotiation conversation with Korean culture. We'll wait and see what we can work out...

My Strange Subway Encounter

The other night, as I was in the subway station waiting for my train to come, a man came up to me, looked me in the eye, and in distinct English loudly said, "Sixteen years I almost die." He repeated this about five or six more times before I realized he simply wasn't going to let me ignore him. I rolled my eyes, thinking he was going to ask me for money or some kind of favor.

"You almost died 16 years ago?" I repeated his statement in question form.

The man smiled widely, showing his ghastly crooked teeth, and began to tell me about how Jesus saved his life 16 years ago. He talked about humans and God and then stuck his palm in front of my face and started to trace Chinese characters on it, explaining to me how the symbol for "God" contains a bent line for Adam's rib. (Or something like that...) It was quite odd.

But I wonder what the world would be like if all Christians shared the same shameless faith as this man. What if we all started walking up to strangers in the train stations just to say, "Look at me--I'm a miracle!" What if we couldn't contain our enthusiasm?

The man stayed on the platform as I got onto the train, and behind me I could hear him belting out a loud stream of "hallelujahs." It was strange, to be sure. (And I'm personally convinced that he must have been at least a little drunk.) But I was laughing inside and couldn't help but wonder "What if..."

Japan Interlude

I spent last week in Tokyo, Japan. I stayed with Shihoko, one of my good friends from GC, and also visited Takahiro, a friend that I know from the U of I. The week involved eating, sleeping, sight-seeing, and the head of an 87-kilo tuna. But perhaps that's another story. :)

God knew that I needed this vacation. My days at school have been long, and culture shock has been doing a fair job of torturing me lately. And my trip to Tokyo couldn't have come at a better time.

I could wax eloquent, but I'll try to make a long story short. I love Japan. It is a beautiful country with culturally-rich traditions and interesting lifestyles. I want to visit again. This afternoon, if possible. :)

In a way, I suppose I had an American experience in Tokyo. I spent my days hanging out with Japanese friends I met in America and American students I met in Japan. Shihoko's family is hosting a group of Wheaton College students (math majors) for part of the summer, so we hung out together a lot.

They're interesting personalities, to be sure. Some Koreans I know would probably say that they have type AB blood. Type AB blood makes you either genius or crazy or both! But I like geniuses and crazy people. They keep life exciting.

One of my favorite parts of the trip was attending a traditional tea ceremony. Japanese tea houses have a small door close to the ground. Regardless of your size, you have to bend down to get through the door. Everyone who enters the tea room becomes the same height. They become equal. I like that. For a moment, you can eat sweet red bean desserts and drink bitter green tea and embrace these aspects of life without fighting for status or position.

The tea room is a good place, I think. I wish the rest of the world were like that. And I wish Korea were like that, too. A little less competition could go a long way.

Public Transportation

There is a joke that goes something like this:
A pastor dies and goes to heaven, where God rewards him by giving him a small mansion. At the same time, a bus driver dies and gets a huge mansion with all the trimmings. The pastor decides to take up this issue with St. Peter. He asks, "Why does the bus driver get a bigger mansion than me?" St. Peter replies, "It's simple. When you preached, people slept. When the bus driver drove, people prayed!"

Bus drivers in Seoul should get large mansions, I think. Their driving undoubtedly makes people think about eternity. The fact that I remain alive after riding the bus means that there is a small miracle each day. I once asked one of my Korean friends why the bus drivers drove so fast. People have to hang on for dear life, and more than once, I've seen someone trip and fall down (however, that could be as much due to the high heels that all women wear as to the speed of the bus). My Korean friend told me that people would get mad if the buses went any slower. At first, I was incredulous, but oddly enough, her answer almost makes sense. "Fast, fast!" was one of the first phrases I learned in Korean.

Subways are equally interesting experiences. The ride is much smoother, but more crowded. I used to think that "packed like sardines in a can" was just a worn-out cliche. Now I can honestly say that I fully comprehend the predicament of the sardines. I travel to and from work on one of the most-traveled subway lines in Seoul. My transfer to bus for the last part of my commute is--believe it or not!--a relief in comparison.

Someone told me that there used to be a "push man" for the subway. The push man would stand at the door and shove as many people into the subway car as he possibly could. But the people in Seoul don't need a push man anymore. They just push themselves. Shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose, and you just hope your hand doesn't accidentally touch someone in the wrong place!

Public transportation is an adventure. It makes me miss the miles of wide highway in between cornfields. And it makes me miss the country roads even more. And I won't ever complain about getting stuck behind a tractor or buggy again!

"A Cup of Relief"

Here is something I read recently. It struck a chord with me.

The truth is, it's impossible to be discouraged unless I've decided what's best for me. It's impossible for me to fear the coming day unless I'm determined to manage every detail, each step along the way, on my own. It's impossible for me to worry unless I've decided what the outcome needs to be.

What a relief to know that I'm free to simply follow Jesus. "The mind of a man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps" (Proverbs 16:9).

-from 101 Cups of Water by C.D. Baker.