This is messed up

Cultural relativism be damned. Yet another article about South Korea's notorious education culture has appeared in the New York Times, and it's just sad. Read it for yourself--no commentary necessary.

My Family, in Korea and the US, 1984-1990

Continuing a series of retrospectives on the life of my grandmother, who passed away recently at the age of 76.

Below are two pictures I found from a family trip to Korea in 1984 (incidentally, the only time my dad returned to his homeland since leaving in 1976 before finally returning on the recent trip that this blog has devoted much attention to).


Top row, L-R: Mom, Grandmom, Mom's sister, Mom's brother
Bottom row, L-R: My older brother, me, unknown.




What strikes me about these pictures is how rural this scene is. This is the real deal: dirt roads, huts with grass roofs, and no high rises in the background (which is how my dad's old village is like now). I again feel compelled to state the obvious: this is where I came from.

Below is a great picture of my grandmother serving a pitcher of Coke at my brother's 8th birthday party (1986). Upon closer inspection, I realized that this was at a Show Biz Pizza (now Chuck-E-Cheese).



Think about this. In 1984, this woman was in the first two pictures, on a dirt road in Korea. In 1986, only two years later, she's in suburban Augusta, GA, at a Show Biz Pizza. I can only begin to imagine how out of place she must have felt during this time, but here she is, three white kids on her right, her three Korean grandkids on the left, at a gaudy American pizza parlor.

I really know how to read too much into photographs. Moving along, on a similar vein, my grandmom and my sister at a roller skating rink, circa 1990.



Also circa 1990, my gradmother and my two uncles who made it to the US first at my first communion in Birmingham, AL.



What struck me the most about these pictures is that these folks have really been with me for the vast majority of my childhood. But I think the language gap created an artificial sense of distance from them, as if they had just showed up sometime the mid 90's, then slowly faded out of view.

Such was not the case. For my grandmother, she had made it about 20 years in the USA, and she saw all of us grow up from children to young adults. She was there for it all.

My Family in Korea, 1975-1980

While home for the funeral, I found some great old pictures of my family, both in Korea and in the United States.

First, my parent's wedding picture, circa 1975, probably Kunsan, South Korea:



Who's who? See detail below for family members I was able to identify:


Middle row, L-R: paternal grandmother, dad, mom, maternal grandmother, ?, ?

Top Row, L-R, starting to the right of my mom (the bride): ?, great uncle (the one who I've met in Korea and blogged about on several occasions), my aunt (mom's sister), maternal grandfather, uncle (dad's brother).

Next: March 1980, sometime around my aunt's (mom's sister's) wedding.



L-R: Uncle (last one to come to the US), uncle (first to come to the US), aunt, grandmother, aunt's husband

Lastly, my aunt's wedding picture. Date unknown, but probably around 1980 as well.



Notice how nobody is smiling in any of these pictures. What gives?

For some historical context, here's what was happening in Korea during this time:

• 1961-1979: strongman Park Chung-hee guides Korea through a period of rapid economic growth, but strongly suppresses any political dissent
• 1975, the year my mother and father married: Per Capital income of South Korea, ~$1,000, or about 22% of that of the USA at the time.
  
• 1979: President Park is assassinated, and a new military dictatorship takes power.
• April 1980: Gwangju Massacre results in hundreds of civilian deaths during protests against the military government.
• 1980, the year my aunt married: Per Capital income of South Korea, ~$3,000, or about 25% of that of the USA at the time.

This isn't just where my family came from; this is where I came from. I'm a product of this history, whether I'd like to be or not.

It's Not About The Beef

Remember what I said earlier about the shared inferiority complex among Koreans? It's rearing its ugly head again in the uproar over the Korean government's attempt to resume imports of American beef. According to the NY Times:

This is a small country in a strategic location with a deep sense of grievance about being manipulated by the great powers around it. Chinese emperors demanded tribute from Korea; Japanese occupiers forbade Koreans to speak their own language; American, Chinese and Russian cold war rivalries divided Korea in two. While mostly approving of their alliance with the United States, South Koreans remain acutely sensitive to any suggestion that they must do America’s bidding.

Sigh. I don't know when Korea will get over this whole complex. The sooner the better; this sort of knee-jerk nationalism and protectionism will get the country's economy nowhere and fast.

Bonus Korea Post: Architecture in the Land of the Highrise

I thought I was done with posting about Korea, but an article in today's New York Times Magazine on the almost overnight births of new metropoli Shenzen and Dubai reminded me of a truly mindboggling architectural find from my time in Korea (April 23-May 8).

The article deals mostly with the massive highrise developments in these cities, but the situation bore many similarities to Korea; namely, incredibly rapid growth and a lack of a workable local vernacular from which to draw inspiration. From the article:

“The old contextual model is not very relevant anymore,” Jesse Reiser, an American architect working in Dubai, told me recently. “What context are we talking about in a city that’s a few decades old?"

Replace "city" with "country," and you pretty much describe the situation in Korea. Granted, Korea does have plenty of ancient Buddhist temples and palaces, but before the war, it was a largely agrarian country, and pretty much anything "urban" was destroyed during the war. Thus, given a somewhat blank slate, this is what one Korean architect came up with:



Augh!! My eyes!!!

This was spotted in Kunsan, South Korea, a medium size city, but one that has also seen rapid growth in recent years.

The sign on the front says "Opera House Wedding Hall" in Korean (or should I say, Konglish). It's someone architect's terribly misguided effort at creating an elegant, European-style, sumptuous banquet hall to allow young couples to fulfill their westernized wedding ceremony fanatasies. It just unfolds in layer after layer of unrefined gaudiness.



Every time I see this building, it hurts me in some new way. Sometimes it's the crazily repeated cheapo renditions of Italian cathedral domes. Other times it's the oddly reflective/tinted windows. Maybe it's the ridiculous trim on the windows. Whatever it is, for some reason, I found this thing so offensive to the architectural standards instilled in me by twenty six years of life in the US, four years of life in NYC, and one semester of Vincent Scully's History of Modern Architecture at Yale.

I obviously chose an egregious example to get my point across, but I saw eyesores similar to the "opera house" across the country. Countless hotels looked like ersatz Disney castles. Church steeples made of nothing more than bare metal frames poked into skylines of all cities I saw while I was there. And there were even worse wedding halls that I didn't capture on film.

But maybe I'm being too harsh. Another quote from an architect in the article struck me as particularly relevant:

"The vernacular is too faint, too precarious to become something on which you can base an architecture."

What is the "vernacular" in Korea? Well, it's this, and for whatever reason, Koreans haven't been able to integrate it into modern architectural practice.




I will go out on a limb and say that, by and large, Koreans have done a poor job of adapting certain elements of Western vernacular architecture in their buildings. But should I fault them for trying? After all, they're new at it. Americans have been doing it for 300 years; Koreans are a little late to the game.

Unfortunately, I'm not too optimistic about the future. The rest of the architecture that dominated Korea was largely in the form of repetitive, monotonous high rise apartment buildings that came straight out of Le Corbusier's notebook:



I admit it; I'm a snob when it comes to this stuff. I adore the quaint brownstones of Brooklyn and parts of Manhattan. I rage at the new glass monstrosities that threaten the unique character of these old neighborhoods. But I know that Koreans don't have the same reference points that I do. One high rise apartment complex in Seoul is even unironically named "Brownstone." Few people in Korea really know what a real "brownstone" is.



So I guess I can forgive the high rises. And I could even see how someone might consider the above to be boring and monotonous.

But I can't forgive the "Opera House." I truly hope that I'll go back to Kunsan several years later to find that the place has been razed to the ground.

Korea: final thoughts

(It's me: a tourist, away from home)

Here's the final itinerary. I realized that the dates are off by about a day or so in previous posts, so this should be correct:

• Seoul (April 24-27)
• Kunsan, via Daejeon (April 27-30)
• Back to Daejeon (April 30-May 2)
• Seoul sightseeing (May 3)
• Ganghwado island sightseeing (May 4)
• Golf (May 5)
• Visit to the International School (May 6)
• War Museum, Great Uncle, last dinner with random cousins (May 7)
• Outta here! (May 8)

I've covered several different themes in my previous posts: family, war, culture, education, pretty much everything under the sun. If there's one subject that needs to be explored more, it must be this:

Why is this all of this so important to me anyway? Why does all of this necessitate the navel-gazing, semi self-aggrandizing exercise of writing a whole series of blog posts about how all important all of this stuff is?

This being a blog, I really don't need a justification to navel-gaze and write exorbitantly self-reflective travelogues. But stating a justification feels like a good thing to do, so here it is:

I'm trying to solve the puzzle. I'm trying to piece together something that doesn't feel whole: my family. I feel like we're this random offshoot, this odd clump of puzzle pieces scattered in the corner, while the rest of the puzzle is largely intact, but missing a key element. The missing pieces have come back to the rest of the puzzle, but they don't exactly fit anymore. They've been changed by time and distance.

l should probably be OK with the fact that the puzzle can't be completed anymore, but I'm stubborn. I keep trying to make the pieces fit. I kept studying Korean after I moved to New York. I worked for a grueling year and a half in a Korean-American nonprofit organization. I watch Korean movies and soap operas. I visit the motherland to see how the pieces fit and don't fit, and I analyze every angle of the experience to see why they do and why they don't.

The pieces will never fit back into the puzzle, but that's OK. In fact, the puzzle is really not the best analogy at all. A puzzle is a single picture that's been cut into many different parts, but a family is an organic, growing, living entity. Right now, almost all of the Lees are in Korea, but there will be more Lees in the United States as the years pass. Who knows? Maybe forty years from now one of the Korean Lees will come to the US looking to fit himself into the puzzle of the Lee family over here.

Until that time, though, most of them are over there, and we're over here. They're very different from me, and I probably never will get to really know them. My dad, on the other hand, clearly was able to reconnect to a great extent with countless long lost relatives. But even if he makes more frequent trips in the future, he will always be a visitor from another place. It's a sobering thought.

Which reminds me of one of the most important realizations I made just a few weeks into my three month stay in Korea in 2004: my home is America. Korea may be the motherland, but America is the homeland. It's the only home I have, and it's the only home I ever will have. I knew that all along; it didn't take two trips to a familiar yet strange place for that to finally dawn on me, but after a long journey, it feels good to say it again.

I'm home.

They teach *in* English *in* Korea

(Class, this is not where we are now.)

• Seoul (April 24-26)
• Kunsan, via Daejeon (April 26-29)
• Back to Daejeon (April 29-May 1)
• Seoul sightseeing (May 2)
• Ganghwado island sightseeing (May 3)
• Golf (May 4)
• Visit to the International School (May 5)
  

"My friends don't teach English, they teach in English. That is, they teach English Literature and Social Studies at an English-language international school in Korea."

I had to explain this several times when I told other friends and relatives that I was visiting my friends Justin and Nana (link to their blog) who are teaching in Korea. As many of you are aware, it's become quite common for Americans and other native English speakers to get jobs teaching English to Koreans. It's a simple supply-demand equation: there's a huge, limitless demand for English language instruction in Korea, and there's a very limited supply of native English speakers who are in Korea or are willing to move to Korea.

Young recent college grads tend to take these jobs and make the leap overseas: they're relatively easy to get, the pay is not bad, and it's a serious adventure. All of this is to explain why even I thought that, when I heard that my college friends Justin and Nana were going to Korea to teach after they got married last summer, I assumed they were teaching English, just like all the other expats I had met during my previous trip.

I eventually learned that, as I mentioned before, they're not teaching English, but they are teaching other subjects at this international school in Seoul. Naturally, I was fascinated by what kind of school this might be, as it seems that nearly every conversation I have with Koreans tends to drift to the subject of their rather strenuous education system (link to previous blog post on the subject). And you can imagine my enthusiasm when, after meeting them for dinner during the first part of my trip, they invited me to visit their school and observe their class!

Needless to say, I was super stoked. A school in Korea run entirely in English? With American-style curriculum? What is this, bizarro world?

Not exactly. Let me try to give the run-down on the nature of this school and why there's a need for such a thing. Since it's an "international" school, not just anyone can attend. Students must meet one of three criteria to be eligible for admission:

1. At least one of their parents holds a non-Korean passport
2. The child holds a non-Korean passport
3. If neither of the above are true, if the child has attended school outside of Korea for at least five years

From what I gather, students have been placed into this school for two primary reasons: 1) they want the obvious benefit of being in an English immersion environment and 2) they are essentially opting out of the mainstream Korean education system.

The second point is an important one. Though Americans often marvel at the wonders of education in Asia as demonstrated by international math and science achievement scores that tend to trounce those of America, the sad truth is that education in Asia, or at least in Korea, is deficient in many serious ways. Based on what I've heard and read, pedagogical methods emphasize rote learning and memorization instead of critical thinking, problem solving, and creativity. Lectures are the norm; open ended classroom discussions are rare. Students get locked into specialized tracts as early as middle school. And there's the relentless pressure and competition which drives many students (literally) crazy.

This school, the Asia Pacific International School, was created to counter all of that with, surprise surprise, American-style education. The curriculum is based on the California school system, and the text books were the familiar McGraw-Hill fare that I grew up with. Problem solving, creativity, and open discussions rule the day. Apparently, "hands on" projects like these Boston Tea Party boats are unheard of in Korean schools, but in Nana's, er, rather, Ms. Massie's classroom, they're an integral part of the curriculum:



It's a simple concept, really: a well rounded, comprehensive, balanced educational environment is the best way to prepare young people to be flexible adaptive learners who in turn will be the most prepared to succeed in a constantly changing twenty-first century globalized world.

What about the students? I was surprised by how well they spoke English, but there was clearly room for improvement. Some of them spoke English very comfortably, while others spoke with thicker accents and more problematic diction. When I listened in on a class discussion of the novel they were reading for English Literature class, I heard this exchange:

Student 1: [The character in the novel] probably felt useless.

Student 2: What does that mean?

Student 1: Useless. 필요 없어. (Pil-yo-ob-soh, which means "not needed" in Korean.)

Student 2: Ahh, 유스레스. (Yoo-ssuh-lae-ssuh, basically, "useless" with a thick Korean accent.) I get it.

I got a kick out of that one. Student 2 clearly knew the word "useless," but couldn't understand it when he heard it spoken with Student 1's natural English accent.

I could go on and on about the experience, but if you're really interested in learning more about the school, you should get it straight from the teachers at their well-written and well-titled blog, School of ROK. Overall, I was quite impressed by the school's audacious mission, by the quality of education my friends Justin and Nana were providing, and by the fact that they were indeed surviving and thriving in a place so far from home.

In a way, I was a little jealous. I wish I could have done that when I had my chance four years ago, but it wasn't meant to be. I had to bail after three tough months; they've signed on for another school year, and I wish them all the best. I know how hard it is to be so far away from home, friends, and family, even while you're having an adventure beyond what most people can imagine.

Lastly, the group shot: here we are, three Americans in an international school in Korea, all of us separated from our homes by all of that blue on the map:



It's a good thing we know how to pose Asian style for photos, just like my niece:



They're not gang signs. At least not to my knowledge.

Golf in Korea: the carts drive themselves. I am not making this up

(Ancient Korean golf club? No, it's a little bell that a golfer can ring if he (usually a he) wants to signal to other players that he's doubling down the bet when gambling.)

The timeline, once again:

• Seoul (April 24-26)
• Kunsan, via Daejeon (April 26-29)
• Back to Daejeon (April 29-May 1)
• Seoul sightseeing (May 2)
• Ganghwado island sightseeing (May 3)
• Golf (May 4)

First, a little background. I knew before going on this trip that golf in Korea is ridiculously expensive. I don't have exact numbers handy, and a quick Google search didn't yield anything promising, so just take my word for it when I say that though many Koreans aspire to play golf (it's something of a national craze especially as female Korean golfers have gained notoriety for their disproportionate share of the LPGA leader board), few can actually afford it. So when I learned that my dad's retired (and somewhat well off) friend decided to take my dad and me out for a round of golf, my first thought was, "damn, that's going to cost a pretty penny."

I quickly learned why: the whole thing, at least at the course where we played, is designed to be a full service luxury experience. And first among these luxury experiences is the caddy:



The caddy is the woman in the red vest in the above picture. As I mentioned before, she pretty much did everything for you except hit the ball. Below is a partial list of services she provided to us during our round of golf:

• Provide distance from your position to the hole (in meters, which was something of an issue for someone used to measuring in yards)
  
• Suggest an appropriate club based on your distance from the hole
• Take said club out of the bag and hand it to you
• Say "nice shot!" after a nice shot
• Take the club from you after you hit your nice shot
• Wash the club
  
• Once you're on the green, clean your ball with a towel
  
• After cleaning the ball, align the markings on the ball to help you read the curvature of the putting surface
  
• Drive the cart

Being a typical do-it-yourself independent American male, I had issues with basically all of the above, but I took particular issue with the last point. For those of you unfamiliar with golf, one of the best parts of the game is driving the cart, as there is so much more to do than just drive. The lucky one behind the wheel gets to careen around corners at dangerous speeds, go down hills at dangerous speeds, and otherwise drive like a maniac all over the golf course. If you haven't done it before, trust me, it's great.

So much to my disappointment, the caddy drove the cart at reasonable, safe speeds and kept it on the cart path at all times. But just as I was getting my mind around all the things I wasn't doing that I consider so integral to the game of golf, I noticed that when nobody was in the cart or behind the wheel, the CART WAS DRIVING ITSELF.

Let me repeat that. THE CART WAS DRIVING ITSELF.

Actually, what happens is the caddy pushes a remote control button to advance the cart slowly down the path. The cart is guided by a wire buried underneath the path, and it never goes faster than 5 miles per hour or so. Still, I was completely flabbergasted by this level of technological innovation on the golf course. The whole experience, from the cart that drove itself to the caddie that did virtually everything for you except hit the ball, to the overall environment of luxury, was so vastly different from the casual, somewhat "redneck-ish" feeling of playing golf in good ole' Alabama, even on some nicer courses. In Alabama, I grew up carrying my own clubs on my back, picking my own club, cleaning the ball myself (or not clean it at all, as was more often the case), and coming back to get a hot dog and Coke from the grill. Nothing about it was luxurious at all. And to be honest, I was rather uncomfortable playing golf in this cushy atmosphere.

I am often reminded when writing about experiences in a foreign countries that it's important to keep some level of cultural relativism in mind. Our first instinct is to describe foreign foods, customs, etc. as "weird," "crazy," or "exotic," when in reality, we just mean "different from what we're used to." I would say that this rule does apply to me when I say that golf in Korea was "uncomfortable." I'm not passing a value judgment on those that are lucky enough to have the money it takes to play golf in Korea. They really have no choice to playing with our without a cart or caddy in Korea; my understanding is that by and large, they are a standard part of the experience. I'm just saying that it was such a different experience from what I'm used to that I felt uncomfortable doing what was otherwise a familiar activity (playing golf).

That and I wanted to drive the cart, dammit.

Ganghwado: Korea vs the World

Back to the chronological progress of the Korea trip:

• Seoul (April 24-26)
• Kunsan, via Daejeon (April 26-29)
• Back to Daejeon (April 29-May 1)
• Seoul sightseeing (May 2)
• Ganghwado island sightseeing (May 3)

Ganghwado is a small island due west of Seoul and notable for at least 2 things: 1) a heavy Korean marines presence due to the island's proximity to North Korea and 2) plenty of historical sites.

As I've mentioned several times before, I was often dismayed at the hyper-modern and westernized feel of most of urban Korea. Since pretty much everything was built after the war ended in 1953, this was largely inevitable, but me being the overseas Korean looking for what exactly makes me different from all those "Americans," I was looking for the elusive "authentic Korea" that I got in spades at the royal palace ceremony. I didn't have to wait long to find more of what I was looking for on this far less modernized island.

Korea during the Joseon dynasty (1392-1910) was known by the outside world mostly by its unwelcoming stance towards other nations; hence the nickname "The Hermit Kingdom" (North Korea is also referred to as such, but the phrase was first used to describe Korea from the 14th through 19th centuries). Proof positive is this stone monument warning foreign ships to essentially keep out of Korean territories:



Unfortunately, French and American soldiers exploring Asia in the late 19th century saw little reason to heed the sign's warnings and engaged in several skirmishes against Korean forces, as depicted in rather gory dioramas in the island's museum:



These two images depict Korean forces repelling a French incursion in 1866 (see Wikipedia article for background info):



Take that, Frenchie! Korea wins this round, but as anyone familiar with their 19th century world history knows, western powers were hell bent on opening up East Asia to trade and thereby extending their influence to this part of the world.

In 1871, Uncle Sam's US Navy took their turn cracking the Korean defenses at Ganghwado:



Ouch. Looks like Corporal Kim took one in the stomach courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue. Though only a minor victory for the US Navy (Wikipedia), it did in some ways pave the way for the eventual forceful opening of Korea to international interests, including Japan's colonial ambitions.

One interesting historical footnote resulting from this battle is that the US Navy captured a Korean battle flag, and, upon returning home, displayed it in the Naval Academy in Annapolis along with other flags captured in victorious battles. Only recently did the United States agree to return the flag (Navy Times article), and lo and behold, it has returned home to Ganghwado:



It's always interesting to see how the United States portrayed in other countries, particularly when it's the country that you consider your "motherland" and the country of your father's birth. I don't think any of us (myself, my dad, or my dad's friend) considered this portrayal of the US as the conquering enemy as particularly strange or profound, but it is worth noting what lessons they took away from this little historical episode: stronger nations forced their will upon small, weak Korea, and would do so again unless Korea became and remained a stronger nation.

Of course, South Korea has become a stronger country, both military and economically, since the war. Nevertheless, I often get the feeling there's a certain inferiority complex that Korea still struggles with as a result of being humiliated by foreign powers, particularly Japan, and partially relying on US military might to counter the North Korean threat. It's as if the country is constantly trying to prove itself as the real deal. International troop deployments to Vietnam and Iraq, and even the '88 Olympics and the '02 World Cup, went a long way to "proving" South Korea's status as a serious player on the international scene, but Koreans are still very conscious of the image they portray to the outside world.

As I wrote this, I was reminded to a previous incident in Kunsan which sheds a little light on this particular aspect of modern Korea. While visiting the family gravesite, I noticed some dying flowers left over from a previous graveside ceremony. I raised my camera to snap a photo, but my aunt yelled at me, "Don't take a picture of that! People will think Korea is a dirty country."

I know it may be a bit of a stretch to connect a country's projection of geopolitical strength and one woman's concern over how Americans may judge the tidiness of its gravesites, but I think they're both connected to the same inferiority complex I mentioned above. Everyone knows that Korea was once a small, weak, and yes, maybe even dirty country. It's spent the last fifty years trying to project an image as a modern, westernized power.

Which brings me full circle to my desire to find the "authentic" Korea, the Korea before Baskin Robins, Outback Steakhouse, and cookie cutter high rise apartment buildings, the Korea that is neither modern nor western. I think I found all of it on this trip, and I also have a greater realization of how much this country is still struggling to find the balance.

Korea may still be small, but it is certainly not weak...and no more dirty than, say, New York City. If my aunt is concerned with how outsiders see her hometown, I wonder what she would think of the New York City subways:



(Picture by Rigmarole from Flickr)

Gyeongbokgung - Palace photos

Sorry for the delay in getting more Korea pictures up; real life reared its ugly head and diverted my attention. Thankfully, it's a long weekend, so updates are back on track.

Anyone who's ever traveled to Seoul could readily identify Gyeongbokgung Palace as one of the main tourist attractions in the city and country. It was the seat of the Joseon Dynasty which ruled Korea for hundreds of years (1392-1910) before the Japanese occupation.

I visited the palace on May 2, while doing my solo sight seeing around the city. Below is one of my favorite images of Korea: the juxtaposition of ancient and modern:



It's easy to forget that Korea went from reclusive Confucian monarchy to war torn wasteland to super-high tech economic power all within the span of 100 years.

As I entered the palace I noticed there was a lot of people, more so than normal. I quickly realized that I had stumbled across a recreation of a royal ceremony, which I definitely wasn't expecting. Being at the palace by itself is quite the experience, but seeing this sort of ceremony in action really brings the past alive:



I tried doing some research to figure out what exactly I was watching, but I still can't quite figure out. It's either a coronation or wedding ceremony for a Joseon dynasty king.



No ceremony is complete without dancers in hanboks:



Solid gold tourist jackpot. I totally wasn't expecting to see this, but it turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip.

Sinchon, Before & After

Continuing with the trip progress:

• Seoul (April 24-26)
• Kunsan, via Daejeon (April 26-29)
• Back to Daejeon (April 29-May 1)
• Seoul sightseeing (May 2)

I pretty much had the day to myself to explore places in Seoul. First stop, Sinchon, the neighborhood near Yonsei University, where I lived during my 3 months in Korea back in 2004.

I mentioned earlier the twisted sense of nostalgia that brought me back here, so I won't cover that again. Instead, here's a little before-and-after fun:

First, the neighborhood:

2004:


2008:


This little plaza area was still there, as were many of the restaurants and cafes that I remember from 4 years ago. This was something of a surprise to me; I had seen so many little cafes come and go during 3 months that I assumed that almost everything would have turned over after 4 years. Not the case!

On to the boarding house where I lived:

2004:

2008:


I half expected the building to not be there, but sure enough, those ugly green windows were staring back at me as I crossed the footbridge to get my pictures. But notice something different? Not on the building, but on the footbridge. There are flowers were there once was an ugly railing. This was one of several beautification efforts I noticed in the area. Perhaps there was a city-wide effort to green things up a bit, a la the Chungyechun restoration project? Anyway, a pleasant surprise.

Lastly, no visit to Yonsei was complete without a picture of their famous main building, covered with plentiful ivy:



If you click on the image for the full size version, you'll notice some guy in a ridiculous looking blue costume, and a gaggle of kids in neon blue ties behind him. A closer shot:



It's not what first comes to mind when you picture Korea's equivalent of Harvard Yard or Old Campus at Yale, but at least it provided for some interesting pictures. If you have any idea what's going on in these pictures, please leave a comment!

Next, I got on the subway and hit tourist jackpot at Gyeongbokgung, the main royal palace in Seoul...

Daejeon - Happy Birthday Buddha!

I'm turning the clock back to the Daejeon portion of our trip to fill in the photographic record. For those of you following along at home, this is where we are in the trip's itinerary:

• Seoul (April 24-26)
• Kunsan, via Daejeon (April 26-29)
• Back to Daejeon (April 29-May 1)
  

The only real sightseeing we did in Daejeon was at Gyerongsan, a mountain/state park on the outskirts of the city that offered a Buddhist monastery and some outstanding views.

As I mentioned before, our trip coincided with the run up to Buddha's Birthday (May 18th), which meant that all over the country, we saw tons of these colorful "lotus lanterns" marking the occasion. This being an active Buddhist monastery, they had them in spades:





Lastly, here's easily one of my favorite photos from the whole trip:



Shortly after arriving in Seoul, I remarked that Korea didn't feel very different from the US. However, by this point, after having spent several days outside of Seoul, and after taking in scenes like this, I was reminded that I definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Back in Amerrrica

It's good to be home after a long trip. Pictures coming soon--there are way too many good ones, so I'll just do one quick upload and call it a day.

(Probably ) Last Post from Seoul

Time's running short, and I never got around to figuring out a way to get pictures off the camera, so I'll have to wait till I get back to do the expanded photo-essays that my travels really deserve. For now, a quick point by point recap of the last days in Seoul:

• Day trip to the historic island of Gang Hwa, which was the site of several clashes with Western powers (including the US) during the late 19th century.
  
• A round of GOLF, which is definitely deserves its own post later. Between the car that drives itself and the caddie that washes balls and clubs and gives you the distance remaining to the hole, there wasn't much left to do except walk up to the ball and hit it.
• Nightime view of the Seoul skyline from a park on the Han River. I got some AMAZING shots; can't wait to upload those.
• A visit to an international middle school where my friends are teaching. Completely run in English, it's something of an educational revolution in this country. Also worth its own blog post.
• Dinner with my old coworker and her husband, where the waitress asked us, as politely as possible, to finish up our dinner to make way for the people who were waiting for a table. Apparently, this happens time to time in Korea. It's not that we were lingering at all, either. I would likely chalk this one up as another casualty of the "hurry up" culture that Koreans are notorious for.
• A brief visit to the War Museum with my dad, which was rushed since we had to move on to...
• Seeing my great uncle, who has recovered quickly from his surgery, one more time before we left. My dad and I hoped this wasn' t the last time we would see him alive, but likely, that was the case for me. Thankfully, I was spared the lecture and was given some inspiring words about the importance of family.
• And one last dinner with other random relatives. Dad's cousins? Not exactly sure. Again, the subject of guns in the US came up, as did the upcoming decision to allow US beef to be sold in Korea. Not surprisingly, they're afraid of mad cow disease, as well as the increased competition from cheap American beef.

It's been a helluva trip. I did pretty much all the sightseeing and friend seeing I wanted to do, and I got enough relative time to hold me over until my next trip (whenever that may be). But after over two weeks away from home, I'm ready to get back.

Before I sign off and leave this country, I do want to pick out the highlights of the trip:

• Best sightseeing moment: tie between the Seoul Skyline on the river at night and the massive royal ceremony at Gyeong Buk palace. You'll see the pictures soon, I promise.
• Best relative/family moment: spending enough time with the Little Terror (my young nephew) in Kunsan to feel like I was actually getting to know him.
• Best food: tough to pick one thing in particular, but it may have been the clam noodle soup (kal gook su) that we got in some random countryside establishment.
  
• Best feeling: knowing that I'm going home soon, and that I can come back.
  

Back to Seoul for the final leg

We're back in Seoul, or should I say Incheon, which is the town next to the international airport and next to Seoul (hotels are cheaper out here, but it's a real schlep to get back into the city). The first day back we visited my great uncle in the hospital, where, from his hospital bed as he recovered from surgery, he lectured me about my career (apparently, "working for the New York City government" doesn't translate into something prestigious enough for him). At least he's feeling well enough to pass judgement on me. After my career coaching session, we met up with Dr. Song, who our family had known when he lived in the states briefly. His family, in turn, acted as my adopted family during my tumultuous 3 months back in 2004 (again, see the original Seoul blog for all the help they gave me back then). Amazingly, he sent his wife and children to Canada so they wouldn't have to run the gauntlet of the Korean school system. He's staying behind for now but should be joining them soon. Further proof of what I was saying earlier about the brutal nature of the Korean education system.

Yesterday I scored serious tourist jackpot at Gyeongbokgung, the main palace from back in the day, where I was lucky enough to witness an elaborate recreation of a royal ceremony. Again, sorry for lack of pictures--they're really astounding--but trust me, it was quite a sight to behold. I also met expat teachers Justin and Nana again for dinner, and will visit the international school where they teach on Tuesday. Definitely looking forward to that one!

I also made a detour to the Sinchon area of Seoul, where I lived and studied during my previous stay. It was a strange nostalic journey; I had such a tough time with school and life in general then, but nevertheless, I felt compelled to go back to the building where I lived, the campus of Yonsei, and the streets where I went to countless karaoke and drinking sessions. It definitely brought back memories of four years ago; not all of them good, but things that have still stuck with me till this day. I was hoping to write about this a little before I left for this trip, but basically, because of the unexpected nature of my departure due to my mother's sudden illness and eventual demise, I'd always felt that this particular chapter of my life, the 3 months in Korea, was something that I needed some sort of closure on. This trip has gone a long way in providing that closure. It's not something that is easy to explain, but I will try to do so once I get stateside.

Anyway, coming up next on the agenda: a visit to an island with historical significance (the name of the island and the historical significance both escape me) and a round of golf with my dad's friend. Yep, golf in Korea. More on all of this later!

Daejeon Update

We'd left Daejeon a few days ago already, but I just wanted to file the quick update. I got some great postcard-quality shots at an old Buddhist temple in the mountains outside of Daejeon, but unfortunately it looks like additional pictures will have to wait till I get back to the States.

The main takeaway from Daejeon, however, is not so much the old as it is the new. Daejeon only reinforced what I'd concluded previously, which is that the entire country is taken over by cookie cutter, seemingly prefabricated high rise apartment buildings. What's even more strange about this is that there's not much of a middle ground between extremely rural farmland and hyperdeveloped urban landscapes here. As I was discussing with friends, the "suburbs" that we think of in the United States are largely a US, Canada, and partially Western European phenomenon, simply because there's no space for single family houses and yards in South Korea, only room for these Le Corbusian monstrosities.

I hope to write more about the architecture later and how it fits (or doesn't fit) with American urbanization theories. Everything in the American canon says that these soulless buildings create ghettos without the social cohesion that typically holds together urban neighborhoods. But clearly, this is a radically different context, one that merits further analysis.

Next: Back to Seoul for the final leg of the trip.

Return to the Family Farm

After leaving Seoul, we made a brief stop in Daejeon on our way to Kunsan, the ancestral home base and my dad's hometown. Some of you may remember my shock on my last visit four years to discover the tiny traditional Korean house in which my dad grew up and the accompanying family farm plot (You can read that blog post here). The farm's still there, but unfortunately my dad's old home was washed away in a flood several years ago. Here's a shot of the farm from the 10th floor of my dad's cousin's apartment:

Notice I said "10th floor." Due to a growing population and limited space, Koreans crowd into highrise apartment buildings, even in small-medium sized cities like Kunsan. Kunsan still has a lot of agriculture activity, but it's a rapidly growing city, and the port area has exploded recently due to its access to China. We went on a tour of this area, and lo and behold, what did we see but MASSIVE FREAKING WIND POWER GENERATORS??!?

Trust me, they were huge, and there were a ton of them. Needless to say, my dad, having been away for over 26 years, was shocked to see all the development going on around him.

Back to the family matters: one of the highlights of this trip was visiting the ancestral burial grounds, which I was unable to see the last time I was here. My grandfather, who died shortly after my father's birth, is actually buried here:

Notice the mounds. No headstones or any other markers, so we had to make a best guess as to which one was my grandfather's. It doesn't look like much, but in some strange way, it helped close an open loop in my perception of the family history: my dad did in fact have a dad, too, but he's buried here and has been for a long time.

On to living family members: I found it easiest to interact with my younger relatives, since A) they were eager to practice their English with me and B) I felt less self conscious compared to talking with adults.

These are my high school aged nieces. They call me "samchon" (which means uncle), which I find both hilarious and kind of touching.

Oh dear, this is the "little terror."

Seven years old, way too much energy, and what a mouth. He's my dad's cousin's grandson, and since he's the eldest son of the eldest son of the eldest son, he's the future "head of the family." During my first conversation with him, we had this exchange:

LT: You don't have to go to the army? (NB: All Korean men are mandated to serve 2 years in the military)

Me: That's right, we don't have that in the US.

LT: 좋겠다! Which roughly translates to, "Man, I wish!"

This was both a bit shocking, but mostly sad; that a 7 year old kid already knows what he has in store for him when he's 18.

There were about a million other relatives as well, and the effect was similar to that of the Seoul family reunions, but more intense since we stayed several days with my dad's cousins and got to spend more quality time with relatives. It just felt good to belong to a part of something much larger, older, and well established that just my self and my immediate family, which is the way things often felt growing up.

Next stop: back to Daejeon, where we visit a Buddhist temple and score crazy karma points.

Koreans may think the US is going down the crapper...

...but they still desparately want to get into our best schools. An article in the NYTimes looks at two elite prep schools in Korea designed to get the brightest Korean students into Ivy League and other selective US schools. The Korean education system is notorious for slave driving kids and demanding unceasing studying, but these places really take it to a new level:

A banner once hung on a Minjok building.“This school is a paradise for those who want to study and a hell for those who do not,”it read. But it was taken
down after faculty members deemed it too harsh, said Son Eun-ju, director of
counseling.

Also from the article:

Both schools seem to be rethinking their grueling regimen, at least a bit. Minjok, a boarding school, has turned off dormitory surveillance cameras
previously used to ensure that students did not doze in late-night study
sessions. Daewon is ending its school day earlier for freshmen. Its founder, Lee
Won-hee, worried in an interview that while Daewon was turning out high-scoring students, it might be falling short in educating them as responsible citizens. "American schools may do a better job at that," Dr. Lee said.

(Emphasis is mine.) I think a lot of folks in the US, when they see American public schools with a 50 percent drop out rate, social promotion, and other tremendous problems, turn to places like Korea, which are seen as models of societies that truly value and promote education. Well, surprise, surprise: Many Koreans strongly disapprove of the education system that emphasizes rote memorization and unceasing study and wish they could get their kids out of it. Pretty much every parent I've talked to while I've been here disapproves of the sytem, but resigns themselves to putting their kids through it, because if they don't, the other parents will, and those kids will have the advantage when it comes to schools, jobs, and marriage prospects. These elite schools presented in the Times article are just examples of what happens to the lucky ones. Again, from the article:

Students rise at 6 for martial arts, and thereafter, wearing full-sleeved, gray-and-black robes, plunge into a day of relentless study that ends just
before midnight, when they may sleep. But most keep cramming until 2 a.m., when dorm lights are switched off, said Gang Min-ho, a senior. Even then some students turn on lanterns and keep going, Mr. Gang said.“Basically we lead very tired lives,” he said.

"Tired" is one adjective to describe their lives; I could think of several others.

Come with me if you want to live (and drink beer).

Found in Daejeon, South Korea. Yes, that's a mug of beer below the "Terminator" sign, which clearly indicates that this is a bar named after the action movies we all know and love.

James Cameron should get his lawyer on the phone. On second thought, no, he should bring Arnold here to have a beer. That would blow the bar owner's mind, more than my mind was blown by this sign.

Pictures, Part 1: Seoul

I've already broken the chronological order of events in this blog, so I figured I might as well rewind even further now that I've figured out how to get my camera to work on this hotel computer.

(If you're reading this on Facebook and the pictures aren't coming through, try viewing directly on the blog: goestotwelve.com/blog.)

Chungyecheong: a stream in the middle of downtown Seoul reclaimed after years of pollution and neglect:

The colorful lanterns are in honor of the upcoming Buddha's birthday celebration. They're all over the country right now.

Changyonggung (Changyong Palace). Not the big huge one in the middle of downtown, but an impressive site nonetheless:

I saw hordes of kids running around in their hanboks (traditional Korean formal wear). Something must be going on...

Ah ha! It's a tea pouring ceremony competition. You can't see it in this picture, but there's a phalanx of judges with clipboards rating every little detail in the ritual.

And here's me. Not the best scene, I realize now, so when I get back to Seoul I'll make sure to get better tourist shots.

Filling in the gaps: Seoul Family Reunion(s)

After 3 days in Kunsan, my dad's hometown, we're now in Daejeon, my stepmom's hometown, where the hotel room we're in conveniently has a computer, which is why I'm able to fill in the gaps from previous experiences now.

Seoul Family Reunion(s)

I plan on writing more later about the general theme of families split in diaspora later, but for now, here's the update from the big dinner we had in Seoul:

All 3 cousins (first cousins) are married. Two have kids already, and the other one's wife is pregnant. Way ahead of the other Lee's in this department. The strangest part, though, is that they're all bizarro versions of their American counterparts. Once we get home, I'll try to post some A-B picture comparisons, but trust me, they do look freakishly similar to me, my brother, and my sister.

All told, there was about 20 or 30 Lee's at the restaurant that night, from 4 generations: my grandmother's generation, my father's, mine, and the one below me. Tons of little Korean toddlers running around calling me "samchon" (uncle).

The highlight of the evening was certainly when they put my dad on the spot to give a little speech. Certainly, he was the reason we were all gathered, and they wanted to hear what he had to say about those 26 years away from Korea. Given the opportunity, my dad made (from what I could tell with my limited Korean) moving and heartfelt remarks on how he had missed everyone, how glad he was to be back, and how he planned on making more frequent trips going forward.

And then there was me. I didn't give a speech (thank God; it would have been painful in Korean), but I tried my best to engage the Long Lost Cousins and their spouses in conversation and catch up with their lives. It was tough to get past the basic with them, but as far as I can tell, they're thriving and living typical Korean lives. They seemed impressed that I had a New York City government job and that I had attended a little school called Yale (as you probably know, education, particularly, admission to elite American schools, is something of a national obsession these days). Thought we didn't have too much to say to each other, I think they were just glad that my Korean had improved since they'd last seen me and that I was able to communicate as much as I was.

Next: we hit the road for the countryside.

America: the view from the other side

Quick update: I've heard the following views on America from Koreans over the last few days:

• They think the country is falling apart due to the subprime mortgage crisis.
• They think the entire country is crime ridden, dangerous, and full of gun toting...minorities.
• When I asked a 6th grade by what he knew about New York, the only thing he could say was..."uhm....terror!" Granted, his English vocabulary was pretty limited, but I was rather dismayed that that was the only thing he could think of.

More updates coming soon, including more family reunion fun!

Mama Mia, that's a big familla - Family Reunion Part 2

Last night was a really freaking big family reunion. All 3 long lost cousins and a bazillion aunts, uncles, second cousins, etc. etc. My Korean picked up some steam after a while and I was able to tell tales of wonder from Yale, New York, etc.

Off to the "shi-gol" (countryside) for a few days, then back to Seoul. Hopefully will get pictures up soon!

The BLOG is BACK--reporting in from Korea!

Friends and Family,

I am alive and well in Seoul, South Korea! Right now it's 10:30 AM, and I'm in a PC Bang (internet cafe) with about 3 other people and a lot of cigarette smoke.

Unfortunately, I can't post pictures at this time, but allow me to recap the first few days here:

Day 1+2: Travel and Family Reunion, Part 1

I met Dad, Stepmom, and Grandma at San Francisco airport, where our connecting flights would converge for us to take the flight over the Pacific together. Unfortunately, the other party's flight from Chicago was delayed, which led to a frantic dash through the airport to catch the flight and the luggage to miss the flight.

The long haul went reasonably smoothly, and by about 8 PM on April 24th we had finally made it to the Marriott Hotel in the Gangnam neighborhood of Seoul. Shortly after our arrival was the first of what will surely be several family reunions during this trip. The roster:

• Uncle
• Aunt
• Cousin
• Cousin's husband
• Their 2 year old daughter (SO CUTE, can't wait to get the pictures up).
• My cousin's wife (but not that cousin)

Four years ago, during my previous trip to Seoul, I wrote about my first interaction with the Aunt and Uncle and how bewildering it is to decipher familial relations across distance and language barriers. Most of my thoughts still remain the same from them: so close, yet so distant.

Day 3: My dad and stepmom reunite with old friends, as do I.

Lunch with dad's old college friend, then a walk through Chunggyechung, an artificial stream through downtown Seoul that was restored after years of neglect and pollution. I briefly showed my face to my stepmom's friends, then broke free for dinner with my two college friends, Justin and Nana, who are teaching here in Seoul. Read their fascinating and aptly-titled blog, "School of ROK," here.

Initial Thoughts:

I will certainly write more in detail about all the things running through my head later, but for now, here are my most important take aways after only 1 full day in the country:

• Holy crap, there are a lot of American chain stores here. This was largely the case 4 years ago when I was last here, but for some reason, it never fails to amaze me to see the long shadow of American consumer culture cast overseas. In the mall food court, I was surrounded by a Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, Krispy Kreme, Smoothie King, Baskin Robins, Haagen Dasz, Pizza Hut, and Outback Steakhouse. Of course, there were plenty of local Korean establishments in the area, but the concentration of western fast food joints in one place was astounding.
• My Korean still sucks. Slightly better than when I was here last time, but it's still hard to engage in substantive conversations beyond the basics ("I live in New York City and work for the New York City gov't, no I'm not married, etc.").
• This may sound blase, but truthfully, I keep thinking to myself, "This is just like K-Town in New York City...but without the non-Korean people." Don't get me wrong, I am very glad to be here, and I am soaking up all the uniqueness of this place as possible, but much of the wonder and culture shock from my first visit is largely absent.

That's all for this first dispatch from the Motherland. Hopefully I'll be able to upload pictures soon, but until then, just imagine this scene:

Lots of Korean People. Buildings. Cars.

That's what it's like here! Hope all is well back in the states. I'll write more when I get the chance.

In Korea April 23-May 8

Hopefully I'll be able to post pictures from the road. For those of you reading this on Facebook, the web address for the standalone blog is goestotwelve.com/blog. Use an RSS feed reader to subscribe to the newsfeed. See you all when I get back!