택견 - Taekgyeon

In other news, I went to a taekgyeon* class this evening and made a fool of myself for an hour.

(No, not Taecyeon (택연), but taekgyeon (택견/태껸). The other Taecyeon is a K-pop star and one of the good-looking, bad-acting stars of Dream High.)

You see, this semester I was determined to pick up some kind of martial art. I needed a way to stay fit that was more interesting than running on a treadmill, and I also thought it would be logical to take advantage of living in Korea to learn a bit of Korean culture; I mean, everyone knows about taekwondo (태권도) and hapkido (합기도), right? If I'm going to live here for a year, I should pick up something new (besides the language), right?

I asked on the expat Facebook group if anyone knew of any 도장 (dojang/martial arts gyms) in my neighborhood, and someone gave me directions to a hapkido gym. I went to check it out last Saturday, but it was closed. I also wandered around my neighborhood to look for taekwondo gyms, but the three I found were either closed or only offered classes for children. The last place I tried was a taekkyeon gym, and while I had no idea what taekgyeon was, the gym's sign had an anime-style drawing of a guy doing a crazy high kick, so I thought that whatever this was might suffice.

So, I went into the gym, awkwardly asked the first person I saw (who turned out to be the gym director/관장/gwanjang) if there were adult classes offered here, and he responded in the affirmative and gave me his card. I then awkwardly left. When I got home, my host mother called the gym and asked for some more information, like class times, fees, and whether or not a foreigner who can barely understand Korean and has done next to no martial arts previously (하나도 해본 적이 없다) would gain anything from the class. All stuff I could have/should have asked myself, but I am awkward and have no confidence so there.

Tonight, then, was the first class that I attended, and I purposely went in without any idea of what taekgyeon looks like. I mean, I saw a thirty-second video that looked like intense kick boxing, but that's it. And when I told my friends and fellow teachers at school that I was going to take up this martial art, they all said, "Oh, taekgyeon is like dancing." From that, I gathered that it was probably a Korean capoeira.

It's actually not...

Well, I can't make any grand conclusions after one hour of practice, but it was one hour of drills very similar to the taekwondo class I took during Orientation last July. Lots of kicking, punching, stretching, and push-ups. Lots of push-ups. I was just expected to dive right into all the apchagi and whatever else vaguely reminiscent of what I'd learned several months ago but never mastered, so "rusty" does not even begin to describe my weak kicks and overall lack of coordination. Also, wrestling is incorporated into taekgyeon, so for a hilarious five minutes the kind but intense sabom (사범/instructor) told me to try to take him down and I just stood there like, "What are you talking about, I have no idea how to do this, I am utterly helpless here?!" until he took me down. There didn't seem to be much dancing, but only time will tell, I suppose.

I'm the only foreigner in a class with three adults total, one of whom has been learning for a year and the other for many, many years, it seems. So I'm a total noob, but I still enjoyed the workout, and I think I'll continue to go and see if I can actually glean something from this experience. Who knows, I might become a badass yet. Check up on me in July?

*Wikipedia's transliteration is taekkyeon, but at my gym, they use taekgyeon, so I'll stick with that variant of the spelling.

Without a Hitch

As far as school is concerned, this week went by without a hitch. Sure, schedules were shuffled and some administrivia have still not been finished (for example, I don't have physical rosters for my classes yet), but I'm quite used to the less stringent way my school works. As long as I'm flexible, I'm fine. Regardless, my classes have been great. My second-year students remember me with at least some fondness, and the new first-year students are a lively, energetic bunch. At least two of the latter group are, I've discovered, fairly fluent in English, owing to their having lived in North America for some stretches of time. The rest fall within the normal spectrum, from being terrified of their prospects in an "English-only zone" to bursting at the seams to say anything at all in English and hope that it's correct. It's been fun on all fronts, and, though I don't mean to 자화자찬 (jahwajachan)*, or praise myself, I think I'm off to a good start.

Non-work related stuff has not been necessarily as successful. I want to find a 태권도장 (taekwondojang), or taekwondo gym, and take classes there this semester, but most -- if not all -- of the local dojangs are specifically for children. I checked one out with my host father, to no avail. I think it will prove to be more difficult than I'd thought to find a place that is not too far from home and also willing to take on a foreigner who can hardly speak Korean. We shall see. In addition, I want to begin 봉사활동 (bongsa-hwaldong), or volunteering, at a Hana center in my city this semester. Although I have contacted several people about this, I haven't yet gotten a reply.

But... 긍정적으로 생각합시다. Let's stay positive. Work is good, homestay life is good, and the weather down here -- four hours south of Seoul -- has been practically spring-like these past few days. I love it. Oh, and it's 불금 (bulgeum)**. Bring on the weekend!

*I learned this new phrase tonight when my host father carefully examined the curry meatballs he had cooked for dinner and, after a taste test, declared himself to be a great cook. My host mother then gave her two cents. Vaguely related: Happy International Women's Day! Shout-out to my 근면한 (keunmyeonhan) and 다정한 (dajeonghan) mom: hard-working and loving, like all great mothers.

**And my host parents laughed at me when I used this bit of slang this morning. You can ask the folks at TalkToMeInKorean for an explanation!

On Identity - Homosexuality (동성애)

This is part two of a series of posts I'm writing on several aspects of my personal identity and how they might intersect with the Korean culture in which I will live for the next year. Part 1 can be read here, and Part 3, here.

I think Korea is beating me up! Almost literally. I can actually feel myself getting more and more physically exhausted each day I'm here. Trying to wake up at 7am each morning is becoming an uphill battle. I hardly had any energy to teach this afternoon; thank goodness I was co-teaching with Brittany, who pulled tons of enthusiasm out of the blue to get our students pumped. And lastly, taekwondo. It's kicking my butt. I have trouble climbing stairs these days because my legs are so sore. Not to mention that today, we practiced sparring for the first time, and our taekwondo master (who is a fifth-degree black belt) accidentally roundhouse kicked me in the eye. Yup.

That aside... at night, when I'm not stretching or trying to fall asleep as fast as possible, I think about identity. Yesterday, I attended two cultural workshops that resonated with me deeply. These Fulbright cultural workshops are run by past ETAs who want to share advice and encouragement with the "new guard", and they cover a multitude of topics. One of these workshops was on LGBTQ+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, and more) attitudes in South Korea and resources for queer ETAs.

Surprisingly for me, the awkward turtle of my sexual orientation has already poked its head out of the shell, although most people are unaware of it. In Korean language class, one of our teachers constantly singles me out, when giving examples of grammar or vocabulary, to be the token male relation, because I'm the only guy in a class of twelve. I'm always the boyfriend or the husband, and once I was even a creepy stalker chasing a beautiful girl. It's heteronormativity at its finest. Even worse, our teacher once made a culturally naive joke about 한국 게이인 (Korean gays). She was teaching us what the verb 같다 (to be similar to something) meant, and stereotyped them all as being "similar to girls". Her "Korean gay" act was essentially an 애교 (aegyo, Korean cute-girl charm) act. I was a bit slow to understand what she was talking about at first, but once I figured it out, it struck me as fairly disturbing to borderline inappropriate. In the words of my peer who was sitting next to me, "Sooooo un-pc..."

Homosexuality in Korea
So back to the workshop I attended yesterday. The two facilitators, whom I'll call Jen and Jon, were great, enthusiastic people who were very open with us about how they were involved with the LGBT community in Korea (it's fairly underground) and what it was like to be queer -- out or closeted -- during all professional hours of their grant year.

Among the ETAs who attended, some were queer and some were straight allies. But the majority of the talk was geared toward queer ETAs who had concerns about how to live out and proud in this fairly conservative, traditional country. Jon's first word of encouragement was that homestay families would more likely than not not try to delve into our personal affairs. His homestay parents recognized that their role was to be hospitable, not to bother him constantly about why he didn't have a girlfriend, or whatever. Some of his colleagues at school, and most of his Korean friends, were also in the know about his sexuality, and had no problem with it whatsoever.

From there, Jon generalized that Korean society, while not traditionally accepting of homosexuality, at least has very little to none of the anti-gay vitriol that is so prevalent in the United States. The overall attitude of most of the population seems to be, "It's not my problem" and/or "That's a Western thing." (My guess is that it won't be long before it does become a "problem" for a growing percentage. But the issue and its corollaries, such as the fight over gay marriage, are never discussed publicly or in the Korean political sphere.)

With that in mind, the queer community is very much underground, and only in Seoul is there any significant manifestation of gay pride or any strides toward gay rights. And, as Jen noted, "underground" in Korea really means "online". Internet communities and chat rooms are big here (for everyone), and the queer community that she was involved in interacted much more through the Internet than in person. However, she did become marginally involved in some human rights groups and gave us a run-through of the biggest ones.

Both Jon and Jen dated Koreans during their grant year, and the discussion eventually moved toward those experiences. Jen was the one who remained closeted in her professional life: none of her colleagues and very few of her Korean friends ever knew that she is a lesbian. At the same time, she presented herself as a strong ally at her school, showing support for LGBT rights her classroom and building enough trust with some of her students that they were able to come out to her in private. Jen's "advice" was to keep the personal and the Professional separate. But I put that in scare quotes because she also readily admitted that being closeted at her school was a tough identity choice to make that had its consequences on her self-perception. I mean, what is gay pride worth if you choose to remain in the closet in an environment where you have the opportunity to positively share your cultural identity?

I now wish that I had talked to Jen more after the workshop, but I had had to run off. For me personally, I would have no problem staying closeted, especially if I had to because I felt that the environment were unsafe. It's fairly easy for me to pass as straight, and I've never made more than a little splash about my sexuality. In college, I guess I officially came out sometime during sophomore year, but I was not very active in the queer community at Swat. Also, some people at home still don't know, and I don't announce it to the world whenever or wherever I change scenes (for example, when I began Fulbright). Thus, I can see how separating the personal and the Professional could be how I choose to live for one year. Kind of like Anderson Cooper!

On that note, while I'd like to teach my more advanced students (if I have any) about American culture wars and current issues such as the gay marriage debate, both Jen and Jon emphasized that as cultural ambassadors (or cultural "share-ers"), even if we think the progressive opinion is the correct one, we should refrain from teaching any opinions. Teach objectively; teach only facts (that is, provide arguments from both sides of the debate), and let students decide for themselves what they believe.

Another really interesting point that they brought up in the discussion was the idea of privilege. (Oh hey, Swarthmorean discourse, welcome back!) As an out gay man in the States, although I may not be able to marry whom I want in California, my orientation is not a crime and I am protected by law against discrimination. The same does not apply for queer folks in Korea. If I am fortunate enough to meet people from an LGBT community, they will (unfortunately) have every reason to be envious of my status as a foreigner -- and an American, at that. Because even if I end up hating staying closeted in Korea, at least I can always leave after one year. They can't leave. Gay Korean men dream of moving to New York or Los Angeles, but how many ways do they have of moving to a big American city? Compared to how easy it is for me to drive to SoCal? Or how long it takes to BART to SF?

Privilege is a set of social benefits that I have but did not choose to receive. Being male, coming from a comfortably middle-class socio-economic background, and having been able to reach my current level of education are all privileges. Being a Fulbright grantee this year is also a privilege! (Being gay and a person of color are not, but that's another story.) I get one more privilege while I'm in Korea: the foreigner card. I have no idea what this will actually mean for me... yet. But I'm really curious as to how I might use it in the year to come.

The rest of the workshop was centered around describing the gay districts of Seoul and some interesting slang (일반, ilban = straight; 이반, iban = queer). When it ended, I had a lot on my mind, but didn't really talk to anyone about it. So... I talked to my blog. Ha! Dear blog (dear readers), any thoughts?

On Identity - Christianity (기독교)

This is part 1 of a series I wrote on my self-identity in Korea. You can read part 2 here and part 3 here.

My thoughts are just going to be ramblings in this post, I expect, because it's been a long day and I just want to go to sleep. Taekwondo has left me sore in muscles I didn't know I had (anyone heard of hip adductors?), and I've done a lot of lesson planning the past few days, so I'm tired. 피곤해요 (pigonhaeyo)!

But I've been thinking a lot about identity lately, so -- you know me -- I want to write and share.

Aside from Korean language education and teacher training and practice, Fulbright also provides a host of "cultural workshops" for the ETAs in order to better acquaint us with the country in which we'll be living for one year. The workshops have been on a huge variety of topics, from the Korean education system (within whose constraints we must work), to eating etiquette, to volunteering opportunities, to the K-pop phenomenon. Most of them are lectures or discussions led by current and past ETAs who are simply sharing their experiences. And overall, they've been a mixed bag. Some are simply awful and feel like an unfortunate waste of two hours. Others are informative but boring, or interesting but useless. And then there's the magical workshop that's a combination of informative, engaging, and relevant. There haven't been too many of those.

Anyway, three of these cultural workshops I've attended have got my brain going on issues of identity in Korea. Specifically, issues of my identity (or identities) while I'm in Korea. They are: my identity as a Christian, my identity as a gay man, and my identity as a Taiwanese-American, or more generally as a non-Korean Asian.

(I've decided to write this post in installments, partly because I'm really tired right now and need to sleep, and partly because it's just way too long already. So... Part 1: Christianity. Part 2: Homosexuality. Part 3: Asian identity.)

Christianity in Korea
The workshop on Christianity in Korea was given by Stephen, this year's Program Coordinator. He shared a little bit about the history of Christianity in Korea, explaining that its roots don't go back that far (first Chinese Catholic priest arrived in 1795, first New Testament in 1882, etc.). At least, there have been missionaries in Korea longer than in Taiwan, which is my basis of comparison. Similarly to Taiwan, U.S. missionaries began arriving in the mid-nineteenth century, and with them came schools (Yonsei University) and hospitals (Severance Hospital), those positive aspects of Western influence. After the Korean War ended in 1953, many Christians fled the northern half of the country and resettled in the south. Today, about 33% of South Korea is Christian. Another third is Buddhist, and the last third is simply culturally Korean, which to me means vestiges of Confucian ethics tinting an otherwise atheistic worldview.

After the history review, Stephen went over what it's like to be a Christian ETA. He said that it was likely that our homestay family would be Christian and want us to come to church with them, which ordinarily I'd gladly do. Unfortunately, churches with English-speaking services are rare, only found in large urban areas. He did give us a directory of good (Protestant) churches in Seoul, Busan, and Daegu. But if we're not willing to make an hour-long weekly commute, weekly church in an intelligible language is going to be hard. For example, Anthony, who was an ETA this past year, was placed in a rural environment without a church to go to. He admitted that it was difficult keeping up his spiritual disciplines because of the isolation. But at least he had his network of Christian ETAs (for me this year, it'll be those who have been coming to our weekly Bible studies) to lean on when times got tough.

As for me, if I don't have access to a church whose services I understand and a tangible community that can help me grow, well, I'll be frank: my spiritual life is probably going to suffer for it. I'm not that strong. And when it comes to my relationship with God, it's not really at the point where just Him and me alone together works out perfectly. My whole life I've been surrounded by a Christian community in the places I've called home, but when I was away or abroad for months at a time without a church, well, I lost sight of myself. One of my more pinpoint-able worries before coming to Korea was that if I didn't get plugged into a Christian community, my spiritual life would go downhill.

Being spiritually alone while abroad can be a wonderful chance to challenge myself spiritually and see some growth. In the end, I can't always keep relying on others to maintain a relationship with God. But that doesn't mean I'm not anxious about the prospects of one year without a church.

Proverbs 3:5-6 comes to mind: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths." I'm going to remember this, and also that God is with me wherever I go, present wherever two or three gather, and I'll have faith that it's all going to be okay.

Brief highlights from a good day

Mondays are not generally known for being awesome, but mine was fairly so. That's why I want to share what happened! I'll be brief, though.

• This morning, I went completely nuts in Korean language classes. We're in the middle of a unit on shopping, so we were learning about things like colors, counters, clothes, and fruits. Teacher Kim was drawing fruits on the board, and they were all really cute-looking. But when she drew a watermelon, it looked really... odd. Soon, who was sitting next to me, remarked quietly that it looked like bacon on a plate. And that just struck an unbelievably funny chord in me that I couldn't stop laughing for like ten minutes. I tried everything: focusing on my textbook, thinking sad thoughts, and laughing as quietly as I could into my hand, but to no avail. In the end, I was laughing so uncontrollably that I was tearing up and really embarrassed, and I had to leave the room.
• Unrelated: apparently, watermelon bacon salad is a thing. (I was Google image searching for a clip art of watermelon that would help make sense of why I went briefly insane this morning, but nothing beats the bacon plate that Teacher Kim drew on the blackboard.
• Also, my classmates have begun calling me 수박 (subak - watermelon) 씨. Great.
• I had my second go at practice teaching today! Most of the lesson was spent playing Telephone Pictionary with my students, who were of in the high-advanced level class. The game was a hit! I wish I'd taken some photos of some of their stories: the sentences and drawings were simple, but they loved it. I also taught them how to respond to less-than-fascinating situations by shrugging their shoulders and saying, "Meh." Best of all, I got mostly positive feedback from the students and my CI observer.
• In an afternoon lull, I decided to kill time by playing guitar with Caden, our RA. He picked up the guitar (기타) recently but learns really fast. Katelyn and I taught him Ingrid Michaelson's "The Way I Am". It was a lovely half-hour.

• In taekwondo class, we've been learning kicks: low front kick, high front kick, and roundhouse kick. In class today, we learned something called the "axe kick". But after Master Choi first demonstrated it -- we were in awe -- and told us what it was, it sounded a lot like he said this move was called the "ass kick". He also joked that it'd be useful to learn this kick if we wanted to kill someone. I repeat, just a 농담 (nongdam - joke)!
• We also played dodgeball at the end of class, and my team won! Liam swore we'd rematch.
• At dinner afterward, Master Choi surprised us by joining us, and I managed some light conversation with him in Korean about the ETAs' placements, his actual job (an administrator of some sort at Jungwon), and his haircut. Yeah, progress!
• I finished my third lesson plan!
• Weekly Bible study tonight was a good refresher. We studied John 15 (Vine and the Branches) and talked about how being far from home might feel like a painful pruning, but the cutting away of comforts and spiritual idols is in fact a good thing that will help us, as branches, bear more fruit.

Good Monday! To commemorate it, here is a photo of me with a lighted replica of the Eiffel Tower in one of the weirdest museums in all of South Korea.

Weird, weird museum. We visited during the Donghae weekend. Ask me more about it if you get the chance!

Die, Candle, Die!

 Today... I snuffed out a candle by punching at it!

Me in my taekwondo dobok. Photo by Ammy.

Taekwondo, baby.

During this six-week orientation, we ETAs are given the opportunity to take some extracurricular "cultural" classes on things like Korean calligraphy, archery, and 태권도 (taekwondo). TKD is the increasingly popular Korean martial art that uses just the body and powerful, focused movement. Its name roughly translates into "the way of punching and kicking".

When I was younger, I really wanted to get into martial arts. In junior high and high school, a lot of my friends were doing karate, Shaolin kung fu, wushu, and taekwondo. The latter two of these were especially popular and also made for great performances during school assemblies. I was really jealous of people who could do flips and kicks and look so cool and graceful while doing it.

My parents, however, bought into the whole "in America, do as the Americans do" sort of thing and made me do Boy Scouts. Ironically (on several levels), the Boy Scouts' unofficial stance on martial arts is a general discouragement of them, due to their inherent violence. Uh-huh. And I learned how to shoot a rifle at weekend camp-outs.

Don't get me wrong; I'm glad that I did Boy Scouts and am proud of my ranks and badges. But I've been wanting to take martial arts lessons since forever ago, so when the chance arose, I jumped at it. It's about $100 for a month-long course (four days a week), which includes our very own 도복 (dobok, TKD uniform)!

After three classes, we have all learned the basics of stance, punching, and kicking. It's not easy stuff, especially for people who aren't as flexible as Gumby. In fact, our daily warm-up exercises and stretches make me sweat more than the kicking practice!

So, the candle story. Last Thursday, our instructor had us practice our punching style by placing candles in front of us for us to punch at. Then, he demonstrated. Get ready, punch! And the candle goes out. He didn't touch it, he didn't blow, or anything. Just the fist. It was mighty impressive... and I couldn't do it. I tried so many times, and lots of other people in the class also managed it, but I grew increasingly frustrated because no matter how hard I punched, the candle would hardly flicker. I was very angry at the candle. (Hence, this post's title.)

A nice shot of Stephanie and me in perfect coordination. Also, it took both of us forever to get the candle to go out. So I appreciate this photo. (taken by Julia)

I was told later that it wasn't about force or tenseness, it was all about focus and mentality. "Look past the candle, not at it," they said. "Punch straight, as if there's no candle there at all." "Don't think too hard about it." "Tell yourself you can do it, and you will!" were the various bits of advice I got from my more successful peers.

Today (Monday), at the end of class, we had the opportunity to keep practicing it. After nearly one hundred failed punches (with more flickering this time!)... I finally did it! I'm not sure what was different. It was probably an accident, actually. But after the first time, I got loads more confidence, and did it two more times in the next few minutes.

Watch out... future black belts right here. I'm on the very right, and our sabomnim (master) is on the very left. He is quiet and very nice, but also kind of scary because he's a 5th-degree black belt and when he does a high kick, his knee reaches his face. (Taken by Rachel, our RA!)

As Principal Figgins would say... "Achieve-ment!"