Seould Out

Yesterday i toured the korean national war museum. As i walked through the halls, i learned about the history that led up to the war, and the lasting effects that have shaped the world as Koreans know it today.

The war began when the Japanese colonial powers left Korea at the endof WWII, and the land was up for grabs as the two dominating ideaological forces, capitalism and communism, competed for this key land. Eventually, the US took over southern Korea and instilled its democratic capitalistic priniciples, while the Soviet Union began to establish its prescene in the north. The only problem with this, is that capitalism doesn’t work in a world of the starving and suffering people of Korea that were left post-war. Revolutionary units wouldn’t have this, not only did they want to be their own people finaly free from colonial rule, but simply, they were still starving on the streets. Eventually, Kim Ill Sung was appointed by the Soviet Union to lead The nation of supporters that would eventually become North Korea.

What I find most intersting about this entire history is that, what initally defined traditional North vs South Korean feuds was not really ideological, although it often seems that way. It was simply, which nation, the US, or the Soviet Union, could make the best promises to fit the needs of the Korean people left behind after a world war. This is funny because as time went on, the Korean people really did begin to identify with these two ideologies, and they are now defining factors of their cultures.

In fact, their contrasting cultures reprsent the two polar opposites of capitalism and communism. South Korea is a country controlled by its consumer culture. Everyone dresses in the latest and trendiest fashions, and the plastic surgery industry holds the most up to date technologies. Large iternational companies like Hyundai, Samsung, LG, and many more, define the South Korean culture and their massive influence is used as a branding tool for baseball teams, clothing, makeup, and much more. On the other hand, North Korea is completely shutoff from the outside world. They live in a complete vacuum; no large international companies, no outward self-expression, no gucci, no channel, no zara. It is crazy how this exteme dichotomy is so clearly defined by these two nations, side by side

I recently had one of the best meals in my life at a dingy food market. It was dinner time, and I was famished after a long day trekking around the city. As I entered the market, I was overwhelmed with the delicious scents of grilled meat, oil, and garlic. My stomach rumbled as I passed the Korean men, still in their business attire, basically inhaling their food, in traditional Korean fashion, at the numerous food stands that lined the narrow alleyway. I was expecting to sit down at one of these shoddy food stands, but instead our group decided to go to a restaurant in the same bulding. As we sat, the food was immediately brought out. Dish after dish, the waiters rushed back and forth bringing out hot fresh seafood pancakes, pigskin salad (which actually tastes great, minus the chewy texture), and many other tasty dishes.

As the meal went on, the restaurant got louder and louder. I look down my table at all of the other tables lined up next to ours and saw empty green bottles piling up on everyone’s tables. The more bottles there were, the happier and louder the people at the table were. They were all getting drunk together after a long days work, drowning their sorrows and gossiping with their friends over bottles and bottles of Soju and rice wine.

As I left the restaurant, I noticed old men, on almost every street corner, stumbling home in a drunken stupor; they were all still in their business suits. It is a strange image to see this, as in the US, the business world and social lives rarely mix, an when they do they often cause many problems. In Korea, going out after work to get drunk with your friends, to return home in the early hours of the morning, only to go back to work and repeat the process the next day, is normal.

Why is this? In Korea there is extreme pressure in the workplace. There are expectations about how work is carried out, how co-workers must ineraact, and how all of this is very strict and very impersonal. Many businessmen here work hard, do what they must at their jobs, and are unable to express themselves in this seemingly “unhealthy” work environment. It seems that in order to connect with one another, on a personal level, they must go out everynight to get completely plastered. It is as if all of this pent up emotion is only able to e released after the barriers are left down after a few bottles are downed, and frowning faces locked in their business suits are able to loosen up and turn into a grin. This type of pressure cannot be good for these people’s mental or physical health, but it seems to be the wat many Koreans cope.
As I sat enjoying my fried shrimp and kimchi, I empathized with these businessmen, and gave them a smile and a headnod as I enjoyed my fried shimp and kimchi.

I am currently staying at the Jogya temple at a buddhist monastery   It is a beautiful monastery  adorned with intricate designs of Buddhist symbols.  It is a very unique time to be staying here, as just a few days ago  was the celebration of Buddha’s birthday.  In order to commemorate this holiday, the temple lined their courtyard with floating, spherical, multi-colored lanterns.  As they dance in a simultaneous motion and they bob in the slight breeze hanging from their string, they seem as if they are alive, all moving to their own beats, yet synchronized with the surrounding lanters like waves.

On a tour of the temple, we were told that these lanters do, in fact, symbolize the many vibrant living souls that come to the temple to praise their gods.  Inside the temple are three, larger-than-life, gold Buddhas, all representing their own spiritual purposes.  The worshippers come daily to kneel and pray before these grand statues.

I looked up at the shining, imposing Buddhas, admiring their nonchalant seated positions and flowing relaxed garb, as they smirked down at me with a cool-calm face saying, “its all going to be alright.”  The Buddha seemed like an agreeable guy that anyone could like, and ultimately devote their lives to.  He has the story of an honest, hardworking, modest man, and the image to match it.

I have grown up studying Judaism, a religion that does not worship idols, and has no tangible images of a god; no Buddha, no Jesus, and no L. Ron Hubbard.  I thought to myself, why is this? An idol is very comforting; it is a relatable object that people can visualize when they are in need.  I asked my professor what he though about this, and he said that it could be that the reason Judaism has no idols may be because they were trying to make a statement.  With little group cohesion in the tribal periods of early religion, people needed strong group identifiers and cultures to act as a social glue.  Perhaps, the Jews used this aspect of their religion to pose this specific purpose.

I really appreciate his approach to my question, as I believe that human’s actions can be viewed  and understood through a social lens.  In a world that seems to have no inherent meaning people create their own meanings in order to make sense of the world around them and survive.  Whether the gold Buddhas truly serve a more useful spiritual purpose or not is debatable  but the golden Buddhas and the colorful lanterns represent a spiritual aspect that is unique to Buddhism, and a defining trait of its culture.

Today I enjoyed the company of many fellow Korean music connoisseurs as we all simultaneously nodded our heads and threw up our hands to the latest Korean indie bands at the Green Unplugged Music Festival.  I started off my day here at the “earth” stage in the early phases of the festival and hung around listening to a bubble-gum pop acoustic group.  I was pleased to find a nice shaded spot to sit with fresh green grass and a slight breeze coming from the banks of the Han river,  It was quite peaceful enjoying my kimchi hotdog and looking out at all the surrounding picnic-ers sharing drinks and fresh snacks.  As the day progressed, I wandered from the “wind” stage, to the “sun” stage, to the “water” stage, and back again.  As more and more people poured in, as at any good concert, with more food and more liquor, the crowds filled and the space was squeezed.  By the end of the day when I was leaving, I noticed that, despite the influx of the teeming masses of people, the grounds still seemed very clean; much more clean than I’d seen a music festival after hours of people running and jumping back and forth.

In fact, in my entire experience in Korea so far, everything has been pretty clean.  For such a huge city with so many people, and in effect, so much waste, it seems that Koreans are very conscious about living “green.”  After all, the green music festival was celebrating the fact t hat the concert was taking place on land that was formerly a waste dump;  this beautiful plot of land against the river emerged like a phoenix from the ashes.

No other megacities in the world, that I have been fortunate enough to travel to, namely, China and India, have been nearly as clean and green.  Actually, these countries are, overall, very dirty.  I have wondered why these other countries lack an overall sense of global environmental impact.  It may be because Korea is able to take more unilateral action on policy implementation when trying to solve problems.  This coordination could afford the Korean government a liberty to get things done more efficiently than the Chinese and Indian governments, whom struggle to rally support from an often unorganized population.  Whatever the cause may be, I respect and admire Korea for being so wary of their “green” consciousness.  

At time’s Korea’s consumer culture can be a bit overwhelming. Restaurants, beauty parlors, coffee shops, and clothing stores dominate virtually every space that falls within the line of sight; I have never seen so many advertisements in a one block radius.    I asked myself, with so much competition to attract consumers, how does Minjoon’s fish-stew restaurant contend with Jihoo’s fish-stew restaurant? Well, Minjoon must put up bigger, better, and more attractive signs that Jihoo, and Jihoo must do the same to compensate.  

This thought resonated with me yesterday while walking down the streets of Gangnam.  I realized how the immense need to compete for customers in a market with such augmented supply defines and actually shapes the public space that makes up this modern and progressive city.

Gangnam had only begun to develop into the economic powerhouse that it is today in the mid 1980’s.  It became a fresh canvas for business to grow and expand, all while having the liberty to build modern structures that were unable to exist before in other areas of Seoul due to their already-established and deeply rooted customs and cultures.  Many large corporations took advantage of this opportunity, and decided to grow their empires here. But, unlike Minjoon and Jihoo’s modest fish-shops, these large international corporations require even larger advertisements.  

How does a company advertise themselves to bigger market?  As our group toured the city and admired its impressive architecture, I realized that, rather than putting up a colorful sign, large companies competed by building more and more avant-garde buildings.  For instance, the technology conglomerate, Samsung, commissioned world renowned architects to build their “Meritz Tower.”  Not only does this building represent what Samsung is: a progressive well-established company, it attracts people from all over the world (who, essentially, make up their market) to come and see their structure.

I believe that this is the highest strata of advertisement and marketing.  It represents the company, and has the capability to reach across the entire globe.  I looked in awe at the GT Tower as I admired its trippy, almost Dali-influenced-John Hancock, features. Because I was able to enjoy the sight of this impressive architectural feat, I know now to trust the company whom it belongs to, and “Garak Construction” will now be a name that I will never forget!

Today I saw a man in the subway station wearing a big yellow strap across his chest and passing out flyers.  I assumed he was just like the many other “cause promoters”, passing out flyers at every major subway intersection, but this man was different.  Rather than incessantly shoving pieces of paper into on-goers faces, he had a warm smile, and was actually complementing people and telling them to have a nice day.  

Who was this man, and why was he being so nice? It seems as if everyone in the Seoul subway, except him, go about their own business; coming or going to work, running errands, the people walk with blank faces trying to reach their destination as quickly as possible.  Upon inquiry, I learned that this friendly man actually worked for a social program who’s main goal was to make people have a better day.  It makes you feel better to have someone else wonder how your day is going, right?

In such a large city, with so many different people, it is easy to feel alienated from one’s own identity and the everyday menial tasks begin to feel more and more repetitive and droll. This problem has actually become a very important issue in Seoul, as it holds the highest suicide rates in the world.  Suicide is the most common cause of death for those under 40.  This blew my mind - as it did the Korean government’s and many concerned citizens’.

It is difficult to deal with a social issue like this.  What causes so many feelings of alien and depression? Do you target the root of this cause, or try to ameliorate the problem as it is? The Korean government’s approach to its cities suicides is one that I believe really does make a difference, and it is one that the man in the subway with yellow strap does too.

The government has instituted little signs in spots that are more prone to be used for suicidal actions. While this may seem strange to think what locations may be more linked to these suicidal actions, tall bridges and rooftops come into mind.  The government has placed signs around these locations that are meant to do what the yellow strap man does, when the yellow strap man can’t be around.  The signs read, “how are you doing?,”Isn’t it nice to be walking on a bridge?,” “have you eaten anything today?,” all accompanied by pictures of cute babies.  While this approach seems odd, I think that this is an extremely clever concept.  All people need when they are blue is a shoulder to lean on, and while this shoulder, in this case, may not be physical, the people can feel that they are important, to the greater community, in the ruckus of the city that is Seoul.

Just one month ago, I was sitting in my Asian 257 class being lectured to by my professor, Juhn Ahn, on the intriguing history and modern intricacies of Korea.  As we quickly learned, as knowledgable and interesting Juhn is as a professor, he lectures very fast, and it is very easy to get lost in the array of words, from the move to the Shilla capital, to the transformation of the Cheonggyecheon.  As difficult as it often is to keep up with the ever-changing lecture slides, at least everything Juhn taught was in English.  There were many students in my class from all over the world: China, Malaysia, Japan, and English is often far from their mother tongue.  Many times, I would look at a foreign student’s computer screen in the row below me, and notice a tab open to a language translation website.  It seemed the students needed to switch to that tab almost every 10 words uttered by Professer Ahn.  To be able to look up words this fast is an impressive talent considering the pace that Juhn says 10 words, but somehow, the students managed.

While realizing the handicap I had over the foreign students, before coming to Korea I had never really appreciated how useful and powerful languages can be, especially English.  I most began to appreciate the value of language yesterday, when I had the unique opportunity of visiting the University of Yonsei’s international campus, and spending time with Korean students as we all listened to a lecture given by my Professor.  Professor Ahn lectured about the rise of Buddhism, a very complex topic, in his usual chipmunk-paced style.  Numerous times throughout the lecture he would pause to apologize for his speed, and make sure that everyone followed.  The students nodded with a blank face, including myself, even though I had already been lost deep in though somewhere after he began talking about the 6 cycles of life and the concept of “nirvana.”  At the end of the lecture, he opened up the floor to questions.  None of the students in my program, all from the University of Michigan, asked questions, but rather, I was surprised to find that many Yonsei students asked questions that were very elegantly phrased and well constructed, even if it came out in broken English.

These students, who had all clearly learned English as a second language, spoke much better than many of my university-level educated colleagues ever have.  The students then proceeded to give their own presentations on unique cities in Seoul, and their descriptions were more interesting than any Lonely Planet article I have ever read.

It really made me feel as if I had taken speaking English for granted.  Both the students at Yonsei and the students in my Asian 257 class are people who struggle and have worked for most, if not their entire lives, to perfect English, and they could probably surpass most Americans in English vocabulary and syntax skills.  I am beginning to understand and appreciate why English is the most valuable and widely spoken language in the world.

Although, even as hegemonic of a language as English may be, I still often feel like a fish out of water when trying to communicate in Korea.  This morning, I had one of the most delicious Korean-influenced sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches  made by on of the nicest old ladys who put all of her TLC in making it.  I wanted to thank her and show her my praise, but all I was able to communicate was the ear-to-ear grin I had upon first bite. I wish I were able to fully express myself, but my language skills, or lack of them„ were only able to take me so far.  As high a value that I, and so many others worldwide, place on the English language, it has its limits that will never fill the void left by the many other deep-rooted languages that exist.

Jetlag is one of those things in life that is just an unnecessary hassle.  It leaves you groggy, confused, and often irritable; symptoms that make it difficult to be fully conscious and appreciate the new experiences encountered in a foreign place.  While I have been struggling with jetlag all day (and a rough battle it has been) I have jetlag to thank for one of my most memorable and incredible expereinces in my life, thus far.  

My internal clock being inverted, I awoke to a stuffy nose and a full bladder at 3AM.  I followed my morning routine and availed myself of these ailments, only to get back in bed after to fidnd out i was wide awake  I soon found out that Brandon, sleeping on the coat above me, and suffering from an even worse case of spring fever, shared my hopeless quest for sleep.  So, we decided to explore the city of Seoul, Korea, to see what the exciting colors of neon lights and exotic street vendor smells, we had encountered the night before, had in store for us.  

We were surprised to find silent streets, no roaring techno, no loud bantering, just the occasional store owners getting an early start.  The only remnant of the city that we had known from the night before was the strobing neon lights. These lights shined and eerie glow.  It was as if Brandon and I were the only survivors in the post-apocalyptic world that was left after the chaos that ensued the night before.

Seoul felt so different in this light (or lack of it).  But alas, the sun rose in the sky, and so too, did the people in the street - exponentially.  The city transformed into the husting-bustling influx of culture and activity that I had been accustomed to.  I woul not say that i Enjoy the sleepiness or excitement of Seoul more over another, but I have gained an appreciation for both.  These two faces of Seoul are co-dependent.  Everyday, the city must recycle and rejuvenate itself in order to thrive in the day.  But, as the late night/early morning is quiet and withdrawn, its value in the cycle goes unnoticed.  THis silent partner is vital to Seoul, and is an integral part of its existence.