Body Language

Host mother, who is always willing to let me know when I do something wrong, politely informed me this morning why placing one's elbows on the table are a cultural faux-pas in Korea. It's not like this comes as a surprise to me: the same etiquette is supposed to be observed in the U.S. I will freely admit, however, that I don't concern myself with that particular mealtime convention. It was never stressed in my own family, and I don't find it rude in the least -- it's more comfortable, even.

Yet I had been operating under the assumption that elbows should remain off the table when eating with my homestay until I noticed my host father's arms propped up in just that fashion a few times. Does that make it okay? Well, not exactly. As it turns out, host mother explained, eating with one's elbows on the table -- especially when at a restaurant -- signals to the cook that you're less than satisfied with the quality of the food. It's a bit of body language as clear as grimacing when you take a bite.

(It may also indicate that you are very tired, which, as of late, I indeed have been. I blame the doubling of my workload at school due to end-of-semester speaking tests.)

Obviously, I didn't mean to convey that particular sentiment. In fact, this morning's chicken porridge was delicious. But I have to be more careful. Learning body language the hard way is never fun, but it's still useful. As much as I despise being corrected for something I did not know was wrong, this is all part of my cultural education. Besides, I'm only going to stay with my host family for about three more weeks before summer vacation and moving out. Here's to making the most of it while I still can!

P.S. Here's a cute and informative video from Seoulistic on some differences between American and Korean gestures. I ought to turn this into a lesson for my students next semester.

Ox Bone Soup

설렁탕, or Seolleongtang, is ox bone noodle soup.
곰국, or Gomguk, is ox bone soup (also 곰탕).

I had it for breakfast, I didn't like it. It was bland and there were bits of collagen and chewy not-meat floating around. I stuck to my rice and kimchi jjigae and hoped my host mother wouldn't notice. But she did, of course, and I had to tell her it was "별로...". I immediately felt like a jerk, because the first thing she said was that gomguk is expensive. My first thought was, "Great, guilt trip. I'm a bad cultural ambassador." But then I thought, "Well, I'm not obligated to enjoy everything, am I?"

Ox bone soup also exists in Chinese and Taiwanese cuisine, so I've had it before, and I daresay I've never liked it much. But it is indeed expensive and requires lots of work to make. The bones must be simmered or slow-cooked for several hours, sometimes an entire day. In fact, I remember getting a whiff of the smell from the kitchen the night before (and no, it was not exactly the most savory aroma).

My co-teachers tell me that gomguk is a good dish for "weak" people in order to make them strong like a bear (gom), particularly because it's a good source of calcium. I decided that I could give it another try.

So a few days later, I had 곰국 again, and you know what? It wasn't as bad this time around. Still not my favorite Korean dish. (In fact, I'm slowly growing tired of Korean cuisine... Hate to admit it, but all I want these days is a good salad...) But it goes to show that first impressions don't always have to dictate the final verdict.

How was your day?

Today, my host mother told me that Koreans don't really ever say "오늘 어땠어요?" to ask the English equivalent, "How was your day?" While it's not grammatically incorrect, she said, it's just not normal.

I thought, "Oh dang, really? I've been saying that to you almost every day for the past six months!"

Instead of voicing that, though, I asked, "Well, then what do Koreans say instead? What question should I ask?"

As it turns out... there's no question. Just a cheerful "잘 다녀오셨습니까! (Welcome home!)" will do.

P.S. Pronunciation guide: 오늘 어땠어요 = oneul eot-daesseoyo; 잘 다녀오셨어요 = chal danyeo-oshyeosseoyo, where "eo" is /ʌ/ in IPA: kind of halfway between the English "uh" and "aw".

Food Etiquette, revisited

Since my first post on food etiquette in Korea, I've made a couple more mistakes that may be of note... I'm just telling myself that these are useful rules to know and that even if I think they're odd, adhering to them is cultural capital and a win-win for my homestay family and me.

from Wikipedia

1. Don't eat 김 without rice.

김, or kim, is dried seaweed. It's a common side dish in Korea, Japan (nori), and Taiwan (紫菜, although my family calls it nori, too). While some people unfamiliar with the taste may raise their eyebrows at the idea of eating seaweed, I've grown up eating this stuff and, if I'm in the mood, simply eat it like chips.

It was my host mother who first told me, however, that one does not eat kim by itself. You must eat it with rice. ("But it's so good! And white rice is so bland and carby!" I think. Oh well.) Because it's easy enough to greatly reduce the ratio of rice to kim, this isn't really a problem at all.

2. Keep your soup bowl on the right.

Some kind of soup (국/soup, 죽/porridge, 찌개/stew or 탕/also soup) is an essential at every Korean meal. It's not Korean if it doesn't include something delicious (and often spicy) in a bowl. Why keep it on the right? I don't know. 그냥.

3. Don't read at the dining table.

In fact, don't do anything at the table while eating except eat. My own mother used to be particular about this: no phones or electronics allowed at dinner. The same holds true for my host mother, who daily tells my host brother to put away his cell phone and stop playing the new fad game app of the week during meals. But when I was told to put my book (I mean Kindle, but whatever) away, I was actually the only one at the table, eating a late breakfast by myself. That left me kind of awkwardly bored for the remainder of my meal.

The way I make sense of this is by observing how absurdly quickly most Koreans around me tend to eat. Mealtimes can be long because there's a lot of food available (four-course meals are standard at most restaurants I've been to), but the food itself is scarfed down in no time at all. That said, something as time-consuming as reading a book not only leaves food uneaten, it also allows it to grow cold before it is consumed, and if that's not an insult to the person who prepared it for you, then I don't know what is.

(Well, except I do know many things that could be considered worse faux pas at the Korean dining table, only I haven't committed them and do not intend to, ever. If I accidentally make more gaffes, I'll be sure to document them!)

P.S. There's been wintry precipitation all over the peninsula today. As I sat in my office looking at a calm gray sky, I noticed my Fulbright peers' Facebook status updates announcing snow, freezing rain, and even some thunder and lightning. Way down south in Changwon, we only got rain for most of the evening -- and I came home pretty drenched. But my host mother just went outside and announced that it snowed! For all of like five minutes. And it has all melted now. My hopes are that it'll fall and stick at least once before I leave for winter break, but if it doesn't, I'm cool with that, too.

A Swattie Reunion in Busan

The Swatties strike again! I had the pleasure of meeting up with Kevin ('11) and Natalia ('12) this weekend in Busan. Kevin is teaching English at a rural elementary school on a TALK (Teach And Learn in Korea) scholarship, and Natalia is studying Mandarin Chinese in Beijing. Because Natalia has a week-long break following the end of her first semester, she flew over the East China Sea to Korea to visit some of the dozens of Swatties who are here. (To fly from Beijing to Busan takes about two hours.)

Galmaegisal (skirtmeat) barbecue at Seolae.

On the first evening, we met up at Gwangan (neighborhood of the famous Gwangalli Bridge) and got dinner at a great barbecue chain restaurant called 서래 (Seolae). The place was busy and the space inside was pretty cramped for our group of five, but we got some delicious barbecue. The specialty of this restaurant chain is 갈매기살 (galmaegisal), which is called "skirtmeat" in English. This is the meat around the diaphragm and liver, and it's the kind often used in fajitas. Our meat that night had been marinated in something special that made it very tender and very spicy. 억수로 맛있다! Seoul Food has a more comprehensive review here. The price came out to about 10,000₩ (<$10) per person, including drinks (소주 and 맥주, which gave me some embarrassing Asian glow). Great restaurant, right by the beach!

That was our next destination, chilling on Gwangalli Beach just to see the lights on the bridge and cool off after a spicy meal. It was nice to catch up with Natalia and Kevin, chatting about Swat news, of course, among other things.

Swatties at Gwangalli Beach! Me, Natalia, and Kevin. (taken by Jamie)

Natalia and Monica at noraebang.

Later, when Kevin and some others in our group left, Monica, a Fulbrighter in Busan, joined us and we went to a 노래방 (noraebang) for everyone's favorite: karaoke! This 노래방 was right on the beach; I forget its name, but it was just 15,000₩ for an hour, no drink purchase necessary. In fact, we got some free apple juice just for the heck of it. (서비스, or service, is a Konglish word that means "complimentary stuff".) I totally sang Starships. And Mrs. Robinson (Swatsick...). And Beyonce. And I even tried a G-Dragon song and butchered it. It was a blast!

It was around midnight when we finished, and I had already missed the last regular bus back to Busan by several hours. Fortunately, Natalia's couchsurfing host was incredibly gracious and said that I could crash the night at her place, as well, on a spare air mattress she had. I was extremely thankful for this. We talked all night about Korea, weddings, and Glee. I slept well, and we left at noon the next morning.

People have been talking up couchsurfing like nothing else recently (especially my globe-trotting friend Miyuki, and my first experience with it was so generous that I've decided to sign up for it and see where else I can travel. I would gladly host anyone coming through Changwon if only I lived in my own apartment, but unfortunately, that's not really the case right now.

Street food: 호떡 (hotteok), which is so incredibly nommable. Deep-friend pancakes filled with melted cinnamon sugar, pine nuts, and peanuts. This particular vendor had a long line of people waiting, which doesn't mean slow service but instead top-notch quality.

Sunday was a laid-back, drizzly day. Natalia and I took the subway to Seomyeon, the downtown area. At the subway station, we had a "stupid foreigners" moment and I accidentally made Natalia buy a multiple-trip card instead of a one-trip ticket. To our surprise and amazement, we were very quickly and efficiently helped out by some of the workers at the information office, who 1) gave Natalia a refund on the card that she shouldn't have bought and 2) walked us through how to use the correct ticketing machines (which we had not noticed before going to the wrong machines). Three cheers for patient, polite, and helpful Korean public service workers!

Woojung's Bibimbap in Seomyeon.

At Seomyeon, we met up with Kevin again and had lunch at Woojung's Bibimbap, and then chilled the afternoon away at an adorable cafe called Tokyoloose. Perks of the bibimbap restaurant included the cheapest 돌솥 비빔밥 (dolsot bibimbap, or stone bowl mixed rice) that I've had in Korea, at 4,000₩, as well as good service, its plain interior and staff of irritable ajummas notwithstanding.

Tokyoloose, on the other hand, is the very paragon of Korea-cute. Stuffed animals, lacy place mats, decor that looked like we landed in France in the '40s... As Kevin described it, "Like Japan's interpretation of an antique French country house." Really, all you need are some photos in order to understand what I mean. Oh, and the drinks and desserts were just great, with almost everything on the menu in the 4-6,000₩ range.

Cafe Tokyoloose, located on the second floor of a building somewhat far from the main bustling streets of Seomyeon.

The surprisingly large and spacious interior, well-lit and overwhelmingly cute. Light jazz playing on the radio.

Natalia and Kevin at Tokyoloose. Note the lacy place mats, the antique clock, large windows, and the enormous stuffed giraffe.

So there was a "Dress Shop" inside the cafe with clothes that you could try on... but they weren't for sale... And  there was a mirror, so I guess the whole point was just to try on cute clothes and silly hats while you waited for your green tea latte?

Oh, yes, and there was also food. A lemon tart presented to us with instructions on how to properly eat it (squeeze the lemon slice over it first, and then alternate small bites of pie and ice cream).

Banana chocolate roll, with truffles and almonds!

I'm planning to write reviews of both of these places on Fulbright Infusion's city guide soon, as they were both fantastic and deserve a bit more attention. As you can probably tell from all the photos I took at Tokyoloose, I really loved it and would definitely go back again. Besides the cafe itself, though, it was a wonderful afternoon spent with friends. As I've said before and will say again, I really enjoy getting together with Swatties in a place that is not Swarthmore. The farther away from Swarthmore, actually, the more fun it seems to be.

A Bit of Food Etiquette

Some things I've learned that are useful for living in a Korean household...

1. Don't eat 찌개 (jjigae) or 국 (guk) with chopsticks. It's soup. Use a spoon.
Okay, this might seem completely obvious to some, but let me explain. I grew up using chopsticks to eat a lot of things, including soup. It's business as usual to pick out the masticable bits and then to pick up the bowl itself to drain what's left. Apparently, that's not how it's done here. I've never actually seen any Korean pick up their bowl. But Koreans use spoons to a much greater extent than Chinese and Taiwanese. So I'm going to start getting used to sipping slowly!

[edit] I asked my host parents today about this: in fact, it is just fine to finish what's left in your bowl by picking it up and sipping from it. They do this on TV advertisements all the time. However, I still haven't seen anyone actually do it. [/edit]

2. It is impolite to watch your superiors/elders eat.
So, at least in my household, when I've finished breakfast with the host family, I have to get up and go somewhere else. I tell my host mother, "But I like so sit!" The reply: "Nope! Please get up." So I go to my room. Koreans tend to eat quickly, and I haven't completely adjusted to their dining speed yet. In the cafeteria, I'm usually the last to finish, which is fine if I'm eating with my students, but they feel awkward about waiting for me, because, well, I count as a superior to them. At a restaurant for a huishik, this may mean: if you notice you're eating too quickly, slow down. You can't finish until your superiors are finished.

3. Hot and spicy food is often eaten in order to "cool down".
It's not secret that Koreans love spicy food. But it sounds paradoxical when, after a fiery 김치 찌개 (kimchi stew), they'll lean back and say, "시원하다!" Shiwonhada means "cool". When I finished my share of kimchi stew, I felt anything but cool. No, seriously, I was sweating. But, as my co-teacher explained, the sweat brings out impurities in your body, and once the sweat evaporates, you do indeed feel cooler and refreshed. So when it comes to the 매운 음식, grin and bear it!

That's it for now! Watching Pirates of the Caribbean 4 with my host brother and sister on a rare night off for them. And this weekend is Chuseok, also known as Korean Thanksgiving! 여러분 추석 잘 보내세요!

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.

교회 - Church

Happy Sabbath! I've gone to church here twice so far. In tiny little 괴산, there are no churches with services in English. But some local students helped us find a friendly (and non-cultish*) place to worship. It's called 괴산중앙교회 (Goesan Central Church), and it's apparently Methodist. Like most Asian churches, it's somewhat charismatic, with loud prayer and lots of singing.

The first week I went, I understand only a few words here and there in the hour-long service, including 아버지 (aboji, Father), 기도 (kido, pray), and 피 (pi, blood... yeah, I promise it's not a cult). I also heard the Apostle's Creed and the Lord's Prayer in Korean, but I couldn't understand much of either. One thing I did pick up on, however, was that every time the pastor (목사, moksa) said 축하합니다 -- which I had learned meant "congratulations" -- the whole congregation replied, "아멘! (Amen!)" My guess is that the phrase could also be translated as "praise".

Anyway, I meant to write about a small adventure I had this morning on the way to church. Tracey and I were the only ones who intended to go this week (down from about a dozen curious Americans last week), as many people were asleep or on weekend excursions out of town. But, we missed the shuttle that goes into town from campus, and the next one wouldn't leave for another hour. So, we got our friend (and RA, actually), a Korean guy named Caden, to call us a taxi before he rushed off to his part-time job. As soon as the taxi arrived, Tracey and I realized that we couldn't remember what the name of the church was. Neither of us is fluent in Korean. Here is the ensuing conversation with our 댁시 운전사 (taxi driver), roughly translated from Korean:

Taxi Driver: Where do you want to go?
Tracey and me: Uh...
Me: Goesan... Church?
Tracey: Church!
Taxi Driver: What?
Me: Church! (in English, to Tracey: Oh no, what was it called? How do you say Methodist?)
Taxi Driver: ... What?
Tracey: Chur-ch. Church! Church? (in English: Does he not know what church is?)
Taxi Driver: ...
Tracey: Um, (mimes holding a Bible) Jesus! Amen! Hallelujah!
Taxi Driver: ...
Me: (in English: Okay, wait, what's somewhere near the church?)
Taxi Driver: Are you going into town? Into Goesan?
Tracey: Yes!
Taxi Driver: Okay, you just give me directions, then, okay? Right, left...
Tracey and me: Okay!

And so we got to the church, and the driver charged us about fifty cents extra (3,500 won total, which is about $3.50) for the trip, probably because we were stupid and unintelligible. (But in all seriousness, it seemed less like he didn't know where we wanted to go and more like he didn't know what a church was. Which is weird. When we ran into some of our Korean teachers later -- also on their way back to campus from church, albeit a different one -- one of them said that taxi ahjussis don't ever go to church, so it was slightly more reasonable that he didn't understand. But still...)

Anyway, during the service they sang two songs I recognized: 'Tis to Sweet to Trust in Jesus and Joyful, Joyful, translated into Korean. The sermon was delivered on the story of Jesus walking on water in Matthew 14. That's about all I understood. Oh, and after the service, some of the ahjummas insisted that Tracey and I eat lunch with them, so we joined them for a lunch of kimchi onions and chicken soup that had half of an entire chicken in every bowl. Score!

Next week we'll see if I can keep up with the sermon a bit more. Perhaps this is a good way to track my progress in listening comprehension!

*I was warned by one of the Orientation Coordinators to be careful of what churches I went to, as some of them were actually branches of Korean cults, which are fairly common and not at all like the American stereotype of a cult.