Stressing vs. Seeking

Life has been quite busy and stressful these past few days... the final exam for our Korean classes is this Wednesday, so I've been studying for that in earnest. But I've also been finding ways to procrastinate for it, including Facebook Scrabble and jamming on the guitar as a study break. On the plus side, I was able to turn playing the guitar randomly with friends into a performance for the 2012 ETA Talent Show, which is this Thursday. But I'm also doing a swing dance routine with another friend, so rehearsals for that have been taking up time, as well. All in all, I think I can look at each day of this week consisting of 4 hours of class, 3 hours of studying, 2 hours of cultural workshops, 1 hour of gym, 1 hour of swing rehearsal, half an hour of music rehearsal, and half an hour of Facebook Scrabble.

This Friday, the end of Orientation will be marked by a weekend trip to Seoul! I'm really excited for this, but it's hard to think about the weekend when I'm so busy at the moment. On Saturday and Sunday, I'll be hanging out with friends (including some Swatties! Yay!). However, next Monday, we are going to have our "graduation ceremony" from KLCC; that is, we'll officially be promoted from the Korean classes we've been taking and obtain the right to become Fulbright English teachers. For this graduation ceremony, each class has to prepare a special skit or movie demonstrating what we've learned. My class, the Intermediate level, is going to perform a skit based on The Bachelor (but I'm not the Bachelor, haha...). So let's add on extra skit rehearsals to my already hectic schedule!

The thing is, although I have a lot on my plate, I need to keep reminding myself not to complain or to be an ass about it. People in general have a way of finding ways to gripe about anything, and as someone who is easily annoyed by it, I should check myself for hypocrisy. I must constantly remember that I've been blessed beyond comparison just by having the opportunity to be in Korea (and take Korean classes and get teaching training and do all the great things I've already done for free!).

So: yes, I'm busy. But am I, at the same time, grateful for having a job and for having friends? Do I have good health and food to eat (even if it's not delicious food), goals to work toward, and daily physical, mental, and spiritual satisfaction? Yes. 예! Swarthmore has taught me a lot about handling stress in healthful ways, and one of those methods is to remember to frame everything in context.

Tonight's Bible study was focused on Matthew 6, the passage where Jesus commands us not to worry. As Tracey pointed out, it's not just a "Oh, don't worry about it, things are going to be okay"-type message but an actual command not to worry. Anxiety (and stress, by extension, I'd suggest) is useless because, unlike concern, it is self-centered and doesn't manifest itself outwardly in love. Worry is almost idolatrous in nature, whereas true faith means seeking God in all situations ("Seek first the kingdom of God..." Matthew 6:33). Instead of worrying, stressing out, or complaining, in all things I can trust in God to pull me through. Including the big, scary four-hour test on Wednesday.

Mickey Mouse and me. Even though I'm in Korea, I know I'm in good company! :)

노래방 - Karaoke!

Noraebang, or NLB for the proud speakers of Konglish, is the Korean version of what seems to be an Asian trend: private rooms for friends to rent out for an hour and sing all the latest pop songs (or any song they like, really). They're usually BYOB, so anyone can get over "stage fright" before the evening really gets going. That said, noraebang makes for an excellent party space or just a fun place to chill and hang out.

Julia and I got "토네이도" (Tornado) desserts at Lotteria!

My first experience with a karaoke room was in Taiwan (where it's called 卡拉-OK), but the selection of English songs was paltry. Here in Korea, even the smallest of 노래 연습 방 (Yeah, some of the "classier" NLB are called "singing practice rooms" instead of "singing rooms") has hundreds of hits from the American songbook.

NLB was on my Korea bucket list, and I wanted to knock it out early on -- with friends from Orientation -- especially because I'd need some experience before my principal and co-teachers invite me out to a 회식 (hweshik, or dinner meeting that is commonly followed by 노래방). It was a couple of weeks into Orientation before I finally had the time and energy to spend a night out. It was the night after our placement ceremony, and I wanted to celebrate. My friends and I went into town (tiny little Goesan...) and hit up the Lotteria first. Lotteria is like the Korean version of McDonald's. I really wanted to try a "토네이도" (Tornado), which is like a McFlurry but much, much smaller. In fact, serving sizes of everything in Lotteria were rather meager. But I guess it keeps Koreans from overeating the way Americans do. Non-Olympic athlete Americans, that is.

After Lotteria and a quick round at B&B, it was NLB time! We went to a place called "스카이 노래 연습 방" and got a room for two hours for 30,000원 (a little less than $30). Because there were a dozen of us, it turned out really cheap for us all, so that was great. And then... let the singing begin!

Tyler and Sara jamming to Justin Bieber's "Boyfriend". Yup.

We didn't even try any of the Korean songs, except for one, but I didn't know it, so... oh well. Most of our time was spent in 90's pop, Disney songs, and "Call Me Maybe"-esque fare. My favorites were probably "Lady Marmalade" from Moulin Rouge, Blink 182's "Semi-Charmed Kind of Life" (although mid-way through the song I got really embarrassed because I remembered what the lyrics were actually referring to...) and "Colors of the Wind".

It was almost one in the morning when we finished -- I haven't been awake that late for the past month -- and we walked back to campus, singing Adele and the Pokémon theme song very loudly. All in all, it was tons of fun! Just the kind of thing I needed after a stressful week. I'd like to go again, but I don't think I'll have time, because Orientation is almost over. Who knows what it'll be like if I actually have to go to NLB with my colleagues? I swear it's a thing here. I guess I'll look forward to it, if it's anything close to this!

Toward the end of the night (like... 12:30am-ish), everyone was up and dancing. I forget what song this was, though!

Peanut Butter

Left: 누텔라. Right: 땅콩버터. So nommable!

It's expensive here. And Nutella does not exist. So this was a treat: my good friend Katelyn brought a jar each of sweet, Western, creamy trans-fat goodness to Korea with her and shared it!

We also had Skittles, beef jerky, cookies, and Korean chocolate. (It doesn't exist in the dark variety here; I do miss my 86% Ghirardelli sometimes...)

So I got comfy with friends in my dorm room and we watched Pokémon: The First Movie together. We ate junk food. We provided background commentary all throughout the film. We spewed Poké-trivia and inducted Julia into the Poké-verse. We relived childhood.

It was bliss.

친구 (chingu)! Friends from left to right: Tyler, Julia, Jason, and Katelyn.

P.S. If you look at the navigation bar at "Friends & Links" on the top of my blog, that page will take you to a bunch of my friends' blogs, including other Fulbright Korea grantees! Check 'em out!

Dinner with the 선생님s

I don't know if I've mentioned this in earlier posts, but one thing that's been making Korean classes a bit more awkward than they already are (picture a class of eleven females and one male, and two female teachers) is the fact that I am my class' 반장 (banjang). This roughly translates to "class captain", and it means that I have some classroom responsibilities (erase the chalkboard, for example). I also was in charge of planning an evening outing with our two teachers. Let me add that I didn't volunteer to be captain... I was nominated against my will and won an election in which I didn't want to run. Oh well, that's what I get for being an awkward minority!

Anyway, yesterday the Intermediate class skipped mediocre Jungwon University dinner and went into town to find a good 냉면 (naengmyeon, Korean cold noodles) place. Tracey suggested a good restaurant, but when we arrived there it was unexpectedly closed. Luckily, Kim SSN (short for seon-saeng-nim, which means "teacher") knew of another cold noodle restaurant just around the corner, so there we went.

Goesan is a tiny city with hardly anything in it, but one essential that it does not lack is restaurants. I think my favorite is still the Chinese restaurant called Shanghai that has 자장면. But until yesterday, I'd never tried 냉면 before, so I was excited.

My first 냉면!

The photo on the left is of my huge bowl of Korean cold noodles, 냉면. It was... not what I expected, to be honest. The beige-ish stuff in the bowl is ice and slush, and the noodles are in the dark brown pile beneath radishes, peppers, a boiled egg, and assorted green things. Cold noodles are vegetarian, and mildly spicy.

I was eager to try the bowl -- it was fairly large --but the slimy texture and slight tang from vinegar surprised me. I think I had envisioned something more like Japanese chilled soba noodles. But it wasn't bad at all! I finished my bowl (except for the slush) and even tried a bit from my friend's 비빔 냉면 (bibim naengmyeon), which is just cold noodles without the slush and with a lot more spicy sauce.

During the meal, I didn't have much to say. This is mostly due to the fact that my Korean is still conversationally poor. I did, however, ask about the other section that our SSNs teach -- the Advanced class. I'd heard that when the other class took our SSNs out to dinner earlier this week, the most lively topic of conversation was my own class. So I intended to return the favor and get all the latest juicy gossip about them... alas, I didn't receive very much for my efforts. Besides other students, we talked about Kim SSN's love life, Chinese, the upcoming ETA talent show, and aegyo (I'll explain that one later).

After dinner, we went for dessert at Tous Les Jours. "뚜레쥬르" is a Korean bakery and cafe chain that has arguably the best 팥빙수 (patbingsu, or shaved ice dessert) in Goesan. We got three flavors: blueberry (블루베리), green tea (녹차), and original red bean (with 떡!)

Tous Les Jours 팥빙수! Blueberry, green tea, and original red bean.

They were absolutely delicious, and incredibly 달아요, or sweet. I finished all the slush from every bowl! However, I'm going to have to say that Taiwanese 剉冰 and 雪花冰 (shaved ice and shaved snow) beat patbingsu by leagues. I was really craving some 玉井-style mango shaved ice, but really, sweet dessert and good laughs with friends and my Korean teachers made it a great evening nonetheless.

Not everyone in our class could even fit inside the tiny cafe seating section of Tous Les Jours. From left to right: myself, Kelly, Tracey, Lizzie, Kim SSN, Amber, Hong SSN, and Monica. (photo taken by Jaeyeon)

P.S. While walking back to campus, we were playing Contact, but I felt bad because our teachers weren't able to play with us. So, we learned a Korean word game instead! I was instantly hooked, of course, because I love word games more than any other kind of game. It turned out to be a word-chain game that I've played in Chinese class before: one person starts by saying a two-syllable word, the next person comes up with a second word that starts with the final syllable of the previous word, etc. In English, this might be like playing the last-letter game, but in languages like Korean and Chinese, syllables (or morphemes) are easier to work with than "letters". Here's an example of one of our word chains: 기사 --> 사과 --> 과일 --> 일요일 --> 일번. (Translation: article, apple, fruit, Sunday, Japan) It was tons of fun!

All About 창원 (Changwon)

One thing I've found is generally the case here in Korea: folks are helpful and well-meaning but won't often give you all of the information you desire. When it comes to directions, laundry, or hey, even important information about your placement school and city, I've had to figure things out for myself.

I've written before about how cultural workshops are always hit-or-miss here at Orientation. Yesterday's workshop, cultural introductions to the ETAs' respective placement regions, was a miss. The reason why was obvious: in all of Southern Gyeongsang Province (경상남도) last year, there was only one ETA. Basically, nobody had ever been before, no one knew anything about any of the cities in it, and thus there was no information for Rachel (in Gimhae), Ryan (in Jinju), or me (in Changwon). The presentation I attended could have been titled, "Cool Stuff to do in Daegu and Busan (Sucks For You If You're Somewhere Else)".

That being the case, yesterday afternoon and evening I decided to do some sleuthing of my own. Thanks to Google and Naver (네이버, Korea's preferred search engine), I found out a lot about my city, and I'm proudly disseminating that information now.

Panorama of Changwon, from Wikipedia.

Changwon means "Bright Land". All Korean cities can be written with hanja, or Chinese characters, so I can tell my parents that 今年我住在昌原. 昌 means "sunlight", and 原 means "source or origin", so when I looked it up, I thought at first that my city was called the source of sunlight. It's rather poetic.

As it turns out, Changwon is not simply located in Southern Gyeongsang Province (慶尚南道 in hanja), but it is also the capital city of the province. It is the 9th most populous city in Korea (after Seoul, Incheon, Busan, Daegu, Daejeon, Gwangju, Ulsan, and Suwon), but probably only recently jumped into the top ten. I say this because today's Changwon was created when three smaller cities, Changwon, Jinhae, and Masan, merged in 2010, thereby tripling its population. The number is now a little under 1.1 million (compare to Philadelphia's 1.5 million in the city proper or Fremont's approximate 215,000).

After Wikipedia, I found Changwon's English website and plumbed its depths for photos and interesting random facts.

The Junam Wetlands, north of the city. Because we're in the south, this wildlife area becomes a huge destination for migratory birds in the winter. I can't wait to see them!

As a coastal city, it's famous for seafood. Local specialties include anglerfish (아구찜, agujjim), pufferfish, and Korean sushi, none of which I've ever tried but probably will. I might even try live octopus... Aside from seafood, I've heard that watermelons (수박... go figure?) and persimmons (감) are a regional favorite. Hooray! I wonder if Korean permissions are anything like Taiwanese persimmons...

NUBIJA bike terminal

Changwon calls itself "The Environmental Capital". One awesome perk is that it boasts the first public bike-rental program in Korea, called NUBIJA (which stands for Nearby Useful Bike, Interesting Joyful Attraction, I kid you not; but it's also a portmanteau of 누비다, nubida "to go here and there" and 자전거, jajeongeo "bicycle"). For a little less than $20 a year, you can check out any one of over 4,000 bikes from among 230 bike terminals in the city and ride it around for two hours. I like this a lot. I'm not an avid biker, but aside from being a fantastic carbon emissions-reducing initiative, it also seems like it'd be a fun way to see the city and local parks like the Junam Wetlands when I'm on my own or have friends visiting.

And here is a cute and ridiculous video that promotes the NUBIJA program.
I'm stoked that I'm moving to a city that's striving to be an example of eco-friendliness in Korea. On the other hand, Changwon is also a heavily industrial city. The original Changwon (pre-unification) was Korea's first planned city, re-envisioned in the 1970's to be the economic powerhouse of southern Korea (but it seems as if Busan has already taken that title?). So instead of beautiful beaches all along the coast, it's mostly ports, shipyards, and factories for companies like LG, Hyundai, and Samsung. The municipal organization is really interesting: the 대로, or Great Road, is a huge boulevard that stays perfectly straight for twelve kilometers. This road also acts as a boundary between the southern, factory-filled half of the city and the northern, residential-and-everything-else half. Take a look at this screenshot from Google maps:

The district of Changwon called Uichang, which was the original Changwon before it incorporated Masan and Jimhae. See all the blue roofs? Those are factories. The 대로 is highlighted in yellow. My schools is way up north, on top of a small hill.

So Changwon is more of a port city than a beach town. Still, the coast means milder, more temperate weather, at least compared to Seoul or Daegu. I'll still see all four seasons, and maybe even a typhoon or two.

What else? If I take the KTX, Korea's high-speed rail, I'm only 150 minutes away from Seoul. There are some universities downtown, which means I might have a chance to take Korean classes. As for a Hana Center where I can volunteer with North Korean defectors, I will probably have to travel to Busan in order to do that. Those are only found in larger cities. Lastly, some of Changwon's sister cities in the US include Houston, TX, Jacksonville, FL, and Jersey City, NJ.

I'll be reading up more on my city as time permits. I chanced upon the city's official WordPress blog, which is pretty cool and written in intelligible English. The posts alternate between random plugs for restaurants or kinds of foods to announcements on the latest renewable energy plan being put into action. Changwon seems to be very proud of itself as a quickly-developing city. The promotional video on their website says it all: "Changwon wants to become the best city in the world." Well, more power to them!

Anyway, that's enough for now. But you'll likely be hearing more about my city and my school in the weeks and months to come. The more I find out, the more excited I get about where I'm going!

자장면

I miss dairy sometimes. Korea has milk (whole milk, as well as sweetened milk in interesting flavors like banana and blueberry) and yogurt, but I crave cheese. Korea doesn't have cheese. But it does have jajangmyeon! Jajangmyeon (炸醬麵) is Koreanized Chinese noodles in black soybean paste. I like it a lot, even though it's not cheese. 맛있어요!

At a restaurant called Shanghai (상하이 식당). (photo taken by Sara)

Placement Day

Yesterday was a big day for all of our Fulbrighters. Aside from being the last day of practice teaching for Camp Fulbright, August 3rd was also our Placement Day.

Placement Day involved a very important ceremony during which the eighty ETAs were informed where in South Korea they would be teaching for the school year. Less than a week ago, I wrote a post about the placement preference forms we all filled out and what kind of school I was looking for. Last Tuesday, we were shocked to learn that our preference forms had all been processed and our placements would be determined by the end of the week. That's some speedy turnaround time! I expected the placements to take several weeks. Instead, we were getting an early surprise.

So, on Friday afternoon we went through a rehearsal for the Placement Day ceremony. All eighty ETAs would stand in a huge semi-circle around the large marble auditorium on the top floor of Jungwon University, and one by one, we would each be called forward to receive our placement. All ETAs who would be in the same province for the year were called together, but otherwise, we had no idea when we would be called and had no clues as to our placement until it was announced as we walked up onto the stage.

After rehearsal, I got dressed -- Placement Day meant formal attire -- and all throughout dinner, I couldn't think about anything but placement. In fact, nobody had been talking about anything else for the past few days. "What did you put on your preference form?" "Advanced or Intermediate-level?" "Did you want a city?" I kept telling people that I would prefer Busan or another coastal city, but I also insisted that I would be okay with any geographical location. What I listed as most important on my placement form was that I get a high school with more advanced students. And then, of course, there was that short essay I wrote on the form explaining why I'd like a science high school specifically. But I'd been hearing that placements at science high schools were extremely rare for first-year ETAs. There were probably no more than two available this year, and I wasn't the only person who requested one...

My friend Katelyn and me, dressed up for Placement Day.
+1 for the bow tie! (photo courtesy Katelyn)

At 6:45pm, we lined up -- everyone was dressed to kill! I love it when people dress up -- and entered the auditorium. My heart started to beat really quickly at this point. I'm sure that everyone was really nervous. And this wasn't the kind of nerves that comes from having to perform or be watched at all... it was just finally starting to hit me that in less than an hour I'd find out a supremely crucial aspect of my future in Korea. Would I get to be in Busan? Did I get an advanced high school? Would I be close to any of my friends?

Once in the auditorium, Ms. Shim, the Executive Director of Korean-American Educational Commission, gave a short speech, and then the roll call began. It felt a bit like reading off names for execution. Almost everyone looked really grim at the moment their name was called, although we'd been told to smile like fools no matter what happened.

I might make a note here that there are two Andrews in Fulbright Orientation with me. His name was called before mine, and when it was, I realized just how tense I was, because I nearly jumped! But there were many names called between his and mine. Also, as time went on and the number of ETAs still standing and waiting to be called up grew smaller, I began to notice that whoever did the placements did a fair job of clumping close groups of friends in the same region. My roommate Jet was placed in Daegu, Korea's 3rd-largest city, along with some of the folks he's hung out with most in the past month. It made me happy to see the groups of ETAs placed in Daegu, Gwangju, Naju, and Mokpo already celebrating how much fun they'd have together. Alas, I wasn't placed in any of those cities.

After about roughly half of the placements had been announced, the ETAs for Gyeongsangnam-do (경상남도), one of the southernmost provinces, were called up. Two ETAs were called before me, Ryan and Rachel. And then... "Andrew Cheng..."

I stepped forward and did my best 인사 (insa, a customary bow).

"...창원과학고등학교..."

Walking forward, I tried not to clench my jaw...

"... an advanced science high school in Changwon."

And when I heard the last sentence, I felt my whole face tighten as I tried to suppress a huge, stupid grin. I got the science high school! The rest I hardly remember. I didn't even see where on the map my school was, only vaguely hearing Jim tell me that I was very close to Busan as I put my sticker on. And surprisingly, I was the last one to be called, making a small total of three ETAs placed in this province. Most of the other provinces, and the cities, of course, had at least five or six.

Gyeongsangnam-do's new ETA trio took a photo, and then I finally got to sit down and watch as the last half of the ETAs were given their placements.

And when that was all over, and Ms. Shim gave some concluding remarks that I hardly remember because I was in a totally different place... it was all chaos! Everyone got up and congratulated each other on the placement; we mobbed the OCs for any more information about our schools and regions that they could give, we took photos with friends as well as our Korean language teachers, who were invited to come watch. It was almost like a party, and everyone was breathing huge, collective sighs of relief.

That evening, I went out with friends for drinks, ice cream, and karaoke (노래방)! But stories and photos of that will have to wait for later.

I'm pointing to my little blue sticker on the giant map of Korea. Changwon is close to Busan, the second-largest city in Korea. Busan is indicated by all those yellow stickers, and Daegu is north, covered in orange. (photo taken by Katelyn)

I'll be spending the next few weeks finding out as much as I can about my city and school, and as I get updates, I'll be writing more! But for now, I'm happy to have been placed in Changwon Science High School, and I'm really looking forward to the real start of my grant year!

On Identity - Being Asian (아시아인)

This is the last in a three-part series of posts I am writing on the intersections of personal identity and Korean culture. You can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here. In my final post, I will write about Asian-American identity.

Of the three cultural workshops that I've attended where a crucial aspect of my personal identity has been discussed, I would say that the workshop entitled "Not Looking the Part, Ethnically Asian but Culturally American: Things to Expect for Your Year in Korea" (wow, what a mouthful) was the most lighthearted and engaging. Eric, the Camp Fulbright CI who was leading the workshop, is a funny guy who was definitely intent on putting a positive spin on the issue.

But what is the issue, exactly? That part was hard to tell from the content of the workshop. There were about two dozen ETAs there, most of us of East Asian descent. Also in the audience were a few South and Southeast Asians, some mixed-race Asians, and at least one white ETA who was probably there out of cultural curiosity. I think that we were all expecting a discussion of the challenges faced by ETAs who either are Korean-American and don't fit in to the mold here, or are Asian-American and could probably pass as (or be mistaken as) Korean.

Asian Identity in Korea
As it turns out, Eric is a Korean adoptee who had never been in Korea or learned how to speak Korean until he began his Fulbright grant last year. Given his background, his talk was specifically geared toward people who look Korean (aka Korean-Americans) but cannot speak completely fluently. We discussed how we might feel if we were approached by Koreans who expected us to give directions or something in Korean, but ended up being overly (or rudely) curious about why we couldn't speak it well.

This has actually happened to me three times already. Once in the town of Goesan, an older couple approached me and asked for directions -- I didn't catch where -- but all I could say was, "I don't know, sorry!" They immediately assumed that I was a foreign student at Jungwon, which I corroborated. Another time, on campus near the main building's elevators, a woman kind of off-handedly asked me on which floor could she find a certain room. Again, I said, "I don't know, sorry!" and when she heard my accent, she also said, "Oh... sorry!".

When I thought about these occasions of mistaken ethnic identity, I felt that it was actually kind of amusing to be mistaken for Korean. I'm Taiwanese, and I don't think I look very Korean. But even though Korea is very homogenous, there are actually a variety of face types among Koreans, such that I bet that if I were ever to become completely fluent, I would have no problem blending in. In the meantime, however, instances of awkwardness when being confused for a local are sure to abound. What Eric wanted to draw out of the audience were words like embarrassment, frustration, and shame (especially for the Korean-Americans who might have been told that not being able to speak Korean fluently made them a bad Korean) as a consequence of struggling with the language in public.

Eric did make a brief note, however, that perhaps each awkward situation could actually make us feel emboldened, instead of embarrassed. I definitely agree. Every time I have another conversation in Korean with a local, if I screw up, it means that I simply need to study harder and listen more closely, but if I successfully communicate my point, then I can give myself super brownie points for coming as far as I have! During the workshop, the audience was very (perhaps unusually) active in giving feedback, especially during the discussion. I piped up at one point to defend the notion that awkwardness and guilt could be easily brushed off. Because, in all seriousness, what else are you going to do to overcome common cultural problems such as a language barrier? If you can only complain or shut yourself out from the world (playing the foreigner card to get out of unwanted linguistic situations), you're never going to improve. Asians who could be mistaken for Koreans don't get free passes for not speaking the language. Instead, we get more chances to practice and learn. Other attendees were less convinced that as the "micro-aggressions" built up, it would still be no sweat to keep calm and carry on.

However, the language barrier doesn't only arise with strangers asking how to get to Family Mart. Some ETAs expressed a legitimate anxiety of not being as appreciated as a "true blue American" would be at their placement schools. Even during our site visits a few weeks ago, some of the Caucasian and African-American ETAs were a hit with the kids. I mean, if I were the principal of a Korean school and I had to choose between a tall, white, all-American foreigner and a short, skinny, black-haired, glasses-wearing kid who still looks like a teenager... of course I'd go for the white guy. I'd probably even question if the Asian one were really American or could speak English as well. But while Asian ETAs might not get the "rock star" treatment that more "exotic" (haha?) ETAs receive everywhere they go in Korea, it actually gives us an opportunity and the motivation to try harder to impress our school. In the end, we want to show that we deserve to be made a big deal of because of our skills as English teachers, not just our looks. We all want that, as ETAs. But the ones who don't look the part of the stereotyped American just get an early start.

We will also have the opportunity to teach Koreans about the phenomenon of second-generation Asian-Americans. I've found that in Taiwan, many people are familiar with the term ABC (American-Born Chinese) and don't blink an eye when I explain that I grew up in California and thus speak English much better than I speak Mandarin. But I've gotten the feeling that Koreans as a whole are less familiar with a large generation of Korean-Americans who don't speak Korean the way their parents do (or even with their parents), or consider Korea "home", or look exactly like everyone else because they grew up on a different diet and got more sun in their childhood than Korean parents here will allow. We will all probably have to do a lot of explaining with regard to the Hyphen (Taiwanese hyphen American, Japanese hyphen American, Korean hyphen American), but I'm personally looking forward to it. More brownie points for being able to deconstruct a complex social phenomenon and then explain it to someone whose cultural framework is completely different!

Because the workshop was mostly centered on issues of language and communication, I wished that we could have had more open discussion on other potential problems such as Korean stereotypes of other Asians. For example, they dislike the Japanese, and there are two (and a half) Japanese-American ETAs. I wonder what they think of Taiwanese people? Indian people? Vietnamese? What about Jewish people? One of the ETAs is half Korean and half Russian Jew, so her experience is going to be quite out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, no one in the workshop could answer any of these questions. I think that it would have been great to have a panel of past ETAs talk about all of their experience together, because I don't think we were all very satisfied.

It just goes to show that you can't lump all kinds of Asians under one catchy title and address all of their concerns equally. I'm Taiwanese-American and living in Korea. A part of me is looking forward to exploring the "pan-Asian" identity while I'm here, but at the same time, I won't stop being proud of who I am.

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.