No News Is...

무소식이 희소식이다.

They say no news is good news, but when media censorship is involved, no news is actually cause for concern. My co-teachers have often told me, with hints of indignation, that there is a lot more social and political unrest in their country than most people are aware of. They mention vigils and protests that are being held in Seoul -- that have been taking place, in fact, for months upon months -- for various causes, but the newspapers never report on these stories. Of course, from my perspective, it's clear that one reason I am not too aware of the goings-on in South Korea is that I'm not tuned into the news, and my Korean skills are not up to the task of understanding more than the photo captions of the daily papers in the teachers' lounge. But since my co-teachers are convinced that the political powers that be are messing with media output, whatever I do happen to read, I look at with a more critical eye than usual.

So, I was surprised yesterday when a student asked me at the beginning of class, "Teacher, have you heard the news? A soldier killed some other soldiers in Gangwon-do." This absolutely shocked me. Instead of beginning the lesson, I went to the computer, and my class followed along as I did some Google searches to find out what had happened.

Here's an article from the Wall Street Journal that explains: last Saturday, an ROK soldier, a second-class officer, threw a grenade at and opened fire on his comrades. He then ran away from the scene, and a two-day manhunt ensued. Finally, the soldier was cornered on Monday. He attempted to commit suicide but failed, and was then captured. All of this happened in the northern province called Gangwon-do, which borders North Korea. Lots of soldiers are stationed near the DMZ, and the environment is isolated and stressful.

My students all knew the story, but I was completely shocked. I thought that if something as crazy as a multiple homicide in the ROK army had occurred, then it would be all over the news. Have I just been completely oblivious for the past few days?

After class, I visited my go-to Korean news website, koreannewsfeeds.com. This handy resource collects top stories in translation from the main national newspapers as well as posts from popular blogs related to South Korea. As I scrolled through the feed, I found very few articles that mentioned this incident. This article from the Korea Herald details the events that unfolded on Saturday, as does this one from Yonhap News. This one from JoongAng Daily probes into the soldier's troubled psychological condition.

While basic information about the incident was widely reported, I found myself wondering, "Is that all?" I expected a bigger national response. It's not like this is an everyday story. My suspicion is that the incident is being downplayed as much as possible. When shootings happen in the US -- and they do so with desperate and depressing regularity -- the media has a field day. News travels fast on social media, and everyone begins to weigh in. Not just on the basic information, either: soon, back stories are excavated, insignificant details are examined, and conspiracy theories are established. One tragic event stretches into a week of media frenzy (and usually ends there). But the response to this shooting spree, which left five young men dead, has been quite muted, as far as I can tell.

It's nothing like the media response to April's Sewol ferry disaster. I'm curious about why... Does it have to do with the fact that the ROK military was involved? One of the few more peculiar snippets to come out of last weekend's story was the discovery that after the perpetrator had been apprehended and was being transported to a hospital for treatment, the military used a decoy of the soldier to divert media attention. A random soldier with his body covered was loaded into an ambulance as the reporters looked on, while the real soldier was rushed to the hospital from a different location. When people realized that they had been deceived, the response was swift and angry. The Korea Herald reports: "the military's handling of the incident has damaged public trust", which had "already been eroded by the bungled efforts to capture the sergeant."

The story makes me laugh, but it's interesting to me because I don't know which side to take. I can sympathize with the military not wanting the media frenzy for the sake of doing their job efficiently, but it also seems like they've had a hand in a part of the media cover-up of this whole ordeal. I certainly wouldn't want every newspaper reporting on how it took too long after the initial shooting to issue a security warning or questioning why one man on foot evaded capture for nearly two days. Hence, the deception. On the other hand, the cynic in me maintains that it's naive to think the media will ever cooperate with anything other than itself. Anything for a good story, even if it means spreading general panic.

Anyway, it's strange, but it seems like this extremely unusual news story is already on its way out. Tomorrow, South Korea will play Belgium in the World Cup, and articles about this event, which has not even happened yet, are already headlining. Also, the political circus surrounding the Park administration's preposterous failure to appoint a new Prime Minister is drumming up clicks. The old PM resigned because of the Sewol fiasco, but then the two subsequent nominees for his replacement were discovered to be crooked and crazy, respectively, so the old PM is not being temporarily reinstated. Here's an overview from the Hankyoreh.

Speaking of Sewol, the adolescent survivors of the ferry sinking, who were on a school field trip, resumed classes today. This was the headliner for this morning's paper (here's one story from the Korea Herald). Photos of parents crying as they embraced the students walking up to the school gates were so, so sad. This story continues to wrench my heart.

One more body was retrieved from the wreckage earlier this week, that of a female student of the school. That makes 172 survivors, 293 now confirmed dead. There are 11 still missing. No news...

The Fulbright Researchers (2014)

Last year, I wrote a very long post that detailed the research projects of the Fulbright Junior Researchers. (They make up the other "half" of Fulbright Korea; every year we have about 120 teachers and two dozen researchers.) Though I'd planned to do the same after this year's spring conference, I quickly became too busy to transcribe my notes.

This morning, while cleaning my desk, I came across them again. They're not as pretty or doodly as my notes from last year, but I still think the information is worth putting down somewhere. So, better late than never, here are brief descriptions of some of the 2014 Fulbright Researchers' projects:

Multicultural Korea

Dorry Guerra informed us that in 2010, 1 in 3 Korean births were multicultural -- that is, babies were born to one ethnically Korean parent and one non-Korean parent. Korea now leads the world in international marriages. This is a cultural phenomenon due largely to the fact that men in rural areas of Korea can't find wives, so they marry immigrant women from China or Southeast Asia. In a sense, these women are mail-order brides, but whatever their circumstances, they arrive in Korea and then they and their families have trouble fitting in. Korea's bloodline ideology, the idea that Korea is one completely homogeneous race and should stay that way, is actually a recent bit of propaganda that promoted national solidarity in the early 20th century, back when the country was in a shambles. Now that that is changing, what is going to happen to the multicultural families? (By the way, Korea is not nearly as homogeneous as the history books like to claim: their blood has been pretty well mixed with Chinese, Japanese, and Mongolian over the centuries.) According to Ms Guerra's estimates, up to 10% of the country will be multicultural by 2050. That's a huge jump from one generation ago. She warns that belief in racial essentialism, or the idea that the different races have deeply-rooted "essences", is a reliable predictor of stereotyping, prejudice, and conflict. So if Koreans generally believe in racial essentialism, then multicultural Korea is in for a rough ride for the next few decades.

Chaebols

Mike Chung gave an economic lecture on the Korean 재벌, or conglomerate. The word chaebol is derived from the Chinese 財閥 (cai2fa2), or "wealth clan". These rose to power during the regime of Park Chung-hee in the 1970s. His government, to put it frankly and with a touch of bias, allowed certain businesses to cheat for the sake of national economic growth. Now, the conglomerates hold unimaginable power over the country. They are seen as both necessary for its success and dangerous and unfair for a developed country that needs to switch to a more fair-play mode.

Korean Adoption

Hollee McGinnis (who was published in the last issue of the Fulbright Infusion!) talked about the mental health of adolescent adoptees and orphans. Following the brutal Korean War in the 1950s that ripped many families apart, 2 million children without parents have been sent to orphanages. In contrast, 85,000 have been sent abroad for adoption, and less than half that number have been adopted domestically. The statistics for 2010 alone show that 15,700 children needed care, 1,400 were adopted domestically, and 1,000 were adopted internationally. There were 8,590 abandoned infants. So the problem of parentless Korean children is not just (or no longer) a direct result of war. But adoption is still stigmatized in this country: it is usually carried out in secret so that a family's friends and neighbors don't know that the new child is actually from another family. Infants are preferred over children and adolescents. Also, because sons in a family usually perform ancestral rites on traditional holidays, and without a direct blood connection this can be seen as wrong, females are also preferred over males. So, Mrs McGinnis' organization, Also-Known-As, provides help and support to adoptees as well as their families.

(Another researcher, Andrea Cavicchi, also focused on adoption, especially on its history -- the 1962 Family Planning system instituted by Park Chung-hee, the controversy surrounding "baby-selling" during the 1988 Seoul Olympics -- and on the issues that make it so enticing for unwed mothers to give away their children. In fact, tens of thousands of orphans do not actually indicate that Korea has an orphan problem. It has a child abandonment problem.)

Nuclear Energy

Andrew Ju told us that South Korea imports 97% of its energy. That's quite a lot, but understandable for a country that has so few natural resources. Unfortunately, less than 1% of the energy that the country does produce is renewable. On the other hand, Korea's nuclear program, which began in 1978, is the fastest-growing in the world, and it exports a ton of its nuclear energy. (Well, these statistics may have come before the near-nuclear meltdown at the Kori Nuclear Power Plant in 2012, which led to some shutdowns and public outcry against nuclear power. And then there's Fukushima...) Anyway, South Korea wants to continue using nuclear energy, especially since it stands to gain quite a bit from an energy alliance with the US. But I personally hope that it decides instead to lead the world in green energy.

Healthcare and Migrant Women

Sangita Annamalai cited the rapid birth rate decline in Korea (now at 1.24 children per woman, the 5th lowest in the world) and connected it to the rise of immigrant wives for men in rural Korea. The subject matter is related to Ms Guerra's project on multiculturalism, but Ms Annamalai focused on the women themselves and on the public health resources made available to them in a country and language not their own. She went to public and private migrant shelters in rural and urban areas, where women who came to Korea through marriage brokers and found themselves struggling could go for help. There, she found that Chinese (or Chinese-Korean) women had much fewer problems than most; that Vietnamese women had problems with using contraceptives and tended to begin having children right away, which led to even more adjustment difficulties; and that Eastern European women could sometimes pass as half-Korean, but were generally more outspoken than Southeast Asian women, which led to domestic trouble. When the difficulties become too great, the pressure put on these women (by the government and even by the public women's shelters) to reconcile is strong, because in the event of a divorce, the citizenship of the wife is revoked. It's quite a sticky situation, isn't it?

North Korean Defectors

Stephanie Choi, who visited North Korea with me last February, gave her presentation about the acculturation of North Korean defectors in South Korea. There are an estimated 300,000 refugees from North Korea in the world: people who have escaped the tightly-controlled borders of the country seeking political freedom or just a better life since 1953. In the early 2000s, the number of refugees entering South Korea specifically grew exponentially as a result of a devastating famine in the North, but it has tapered off in recent years, following the death of Kim Jong-il and a tightening of security by Kim Jong-un's regime.

Today, the 26,000 defectors in South Korea make up just 1% of the country's minority immigrants. The North Koreans in South Korea are much different from the first waves of refugees. Instead of political elite who were lauded as heroes when they defected pre-Soviet collapse, defectors are now mostly women and children just looking to survive. And they are not treated very positively once here. After a long three-month investigation and assimilation period at Hanawon, where they are simultaneously interrogated in-depth about their background as North Koreans and scrubbed clean of that identity in order to fit in in South Korea, they encounter a host of problems. Some try to hide their identity, but their accent and unfamiliarity with basic skills required in a capitalist society, such as managing a bank account, can give them away. Others are fiercely proud of their background and, stating that you can't change where you were born, are involved in activism to try to change South Koreans' stereotypes about North Koreans (e.g. that they're staunch Communists, freeloaders, or a drain on governmental resources). Many are lonely and turn to each other for support (much like the Fulbrighters, scattered all over the country, tend to hang out together) or to religion. 80-90% are Christian, having been converted by missionaries involved in rescues and border crossings in China. These days, reunification is being talked about more and more. At the beginning of 2014, President Park announced that it would be possible by 2050, calling it a "reunification jackpot". I don't know how I feel about this, but I hope that whatever change occurs will come about peacefully. 땅의 통일, 사람의 통일. One land, one people.

Patriarchy and Politics

Chelsea Carlson researched women in politics, asking the question, "Why aren't there any?" Or at least, as many as there should be? Korea is notorious for its gender inequality, but why is this happening in politics? And will Park Geun-hye, the first female president, change things? Ms Carlson outlined the strictly-defined systems of networking in Korean politics: for men, their classmates, fellow alumni, and seniors/juniors (선배/후배) are all that matters, but women depend mostly on their families and husbands to make connections. This, coupled with a secretive nomination process to select candidates for publicly-elected office, makes it hard for women to get a foot in from the get-go. Women just don't have enough social clout to be elected, it seems, and the system, while not explicitly sexist, isn't helping. In my own opinion, Park Geun-hye utilized the networking system to secure her win. Her family is famous, of course, as her father was a former president(/dictator), and regional loyalty to the Parks is indomitable. Unfortunately, I don't think Park is a champion for women's rights at all; she has done nothing to close the gender pay gap or balance the systems of parental leave in order to help mothers return to their careers. So, gender inequality in politics will likely persist. Ms Carlson then offered a few ways this could be remedied, including a "local service requirement" for candidates (which women could easily attain and use to their political advantage), more transparency in the system, and even affirmative action.

(Another researcher, Aileen Kim, did her research project specifically on Park Geun-hye, and focused on the power of "dynasty" that helped secure her presidential win.)

Hip-Hop and Racial Consciousness

Whitney Barr countered the idea that Korea's infamous racial insensitivity could no longer be deemed as a mere product of ignorance, since Korean millennials have grown up with decent exposure to Western media and other cultures -- specifically, black and hip-hop culture. She explored the positive appropriations of hip-hop culture in Seoul, but also contrasted it with general dismissiveness or outright racism against black people, including the double-edged usage of words like 흑형 (black brother; Google that to get the idea) or 깜둥이 ("darky"), and the consideration of multiracial icons as purely Korean or "at least" half-Korean, discarding their other identity.

Performance Art

Adam Glassman described in colorful detail his experiences with shamanism and street dance in a project that aimed to capture Korean performance art in all its vicissitudinous adaptation to the present day. Why are shows like Nanta, in which the performers encourage tons of audience participation and turn it more into an interaction than a "show", so popular? Why has street dance skyrocketed in Korea in recent years? Mr Glassman suggests that it has something to do with the long-standing performers' directive to "create joy together" with their audience. Focusing on the 무당, or shamans, who practice a traditional religion in decline but still deeply-rooted in many people's belief systems, he described how the rituals they perform attempt to establish a tangible, physical connection between the people and the gods. Of the over 40,000 registered shamans in Korea, Mr Glassman was lucky enough to find one who opened up his home to him so that he could observe daily life and learn more about shamanism. From watching and recording the performative aspects of shamanism, he looked for similar patterns in modern iterations of performance art. Mr Glassman's eventual goal is to return to the United States to reinvent American theater, so that the audience is no longer merely a cold, voiceless participant but living and breathing, with just as much a stake in the performance as the performers themselves.

Miscellany

Other Fulbright research projects focused on more scientific matters that might have interested my students, but weren't necessarily compelling to me. One researcher is researching cancer treatment using electric plasma. Cool! But most of his lecture went over my head. Another is looking at the antihistamine effects of the Korean 다래, a fruit that is essentially a small kiwi. Also, two researchers did their projects on art and painting, and one of them is having a solo exhibition in Seoul in a few weeks! That's pretty exciting.

Election Day

Today was a regional election day, and schools and businesses had the day off. For the weeks leading up to this day, it's been impossible to miss the large groups of campaigners gathered at every busy city intersection and near government buildings with their signs and fliers. They are mostly older women (ajummas) keeping themselves busy -- extremely busy. They've been handing out business cards, pamphlets, leaflets, and probably even moist towelettes to all passers-by. They are dressed in the bright primary colors of their candidate, with matching hats, scarves, shirts, fans, or gloves, often with their candidate's name or slogan emblazoned on them. They carry large signs and move them in perfect synchronization. They bow in unison when large crowds pass. They smile and wave. For hours.

They are a bit annoying.

They're like sunflowers; they bow to you as you drive by. That makes you, dear constituent, the sun. (Side note: the red text on their shirts reads "Education is Key!" and I wonder if that, plus the yellow color, is meant to reference Sewol-ho mourning, which also is symbolized with yellow?)

Also, they're not doing it necessarily because they are politically dedicated enough to spend so much time in the sun chanting or cheering along to loud campaign music. A Korean friend told me -- to my great surprise -- that most of these ajummas were getting paid very well for what amounts to a part-time job. She went on to explain that Korean politicians spend huge sums of money on their campaigns. That doesn't surprise me, actually. Between the enormous banners draped from the sides of tall buildings and rental of specalized campaign trucks that drive around the city day and night, nothing about these campaigns seems thrifty.

Anyway, I couldn't really care less about the actual results of this election. I spent my day off secluded in a cafe, working. Four bucks bought me an iced latte and five quiet, undisturbed hours that I needed in order to correct eighty first drafts. I was certainly more productive this afternoon than I have been in weeks.

For dinner, I ordered an entire large bulgogi-sweet potato pizza and ate half of it. No shame. The rest will be consumed shortly. Then I watched Lego Movie, which was highly entertaining and lived up to expectations, and did some other non-school related work until suddenly it was 1am and I wondered where the day had gone.

Granted, I woke up at noon, so I didn't have all that much time to begin with, but seriously, can somebody get me a Time Turner?

One random day of school tomorrow, and then a three-day weekend for Korean Memorial Day. I'll try to catch up then...

News on North Korea

Just some links tonight. Some of these stories I've wanted to share for quite some time, so I might as well just lump them all into one post. Happy reading!

What It's Like to Meet a Brother You Haven't Seen in Six Decades (TIME) -- a moving piece about two brothers who participated in last month's North-South family reunions (남북 이산가족 상봉). A former Fulbrighter contributed to the article!

North Korean elections provide clues to reclusive Stalinist state (CNN) -- an analysis of the DPRK's rather pointless elections. Kim Jong Un, unsurprisingly, won 100% of the vote. More interestingly, the election is used by the ruling party as a kind of census: if someone fails to show up to the polls and they're not accounted for in a prison camp or something, it's a sure sign they've defected.

The Land Where the Lord Has No Work! (DailyNK) -- following the release of an Australian missionary who was detained in Pyongyang while I was there, a North Korean website ran some propaganda claiming that the nation's brand of socialism is so successful that Jesus himself "would have nothing to do even if he came." Bold statement.

Understanding Christian witnessing in N. Korea (NK News) -- also touching on Christianity, specifically the motivation protestant Christians have for evangelizing in the DPRK, even though it is strictly prohibited, and the pros and cons of their methods of engagement. There's a lot of good analysis in this article, as well as some quotes from one of the organizers of the Pyongyang Project, my DPRK tour group. Fun fact: one hundred years ago, Pyongyang was a center of religious revival in Asia; it was called the "Jerusalem of the East". Today, Christians are ruthlessly persecuted unless they belong to one of a few state-run churches in the capital.

Mixing with the Cleanest Race: My upbringing in North Korea (NK News) -- part of a highly unique series written by Monique Macias, a Guinean who was raised in Pyongyang under the care of Kim Il Sung. Her experience is truly like none other.

Pyongyang's Hunger Games (New York Times) -- an explanation of some appalling statistics on food aid, government/military spending, and the lavishness of the Kim regime, from the recent COI (Comission of Inquiry) released by the UN. In short: people are starving, and the government has the ability the help them but not the willingness.

Shut Down Bangkok, Restart Thailand

The political unrest in Thailand has been surfacing in news reports quite a bit in the past month or so. I subscribe to TIME's newsfeed, and a few stories about the increasing tension in Bangkok came up in the days before I was to arrive there. I also followed the website and live updates of Richard Barrow, which were helpful. While the news stories painted a grim picture, the reality is that the ongoing demonstrations are not making Bangkok unsafe for tourists and travelers, as long as they are smart about where they go in the city and when.

What's happening over there, anyway? I wasn't well-read on the issue itself going in, but part of the reason I travel is to learn things. The more people I met and talked to in Thailand, the more I could piece together a lot of what was going on, and since returning home I've been following the news closely.

Bangkok Shutdown protest site near Sala Daeng Station.

Bangkok has been "shut down" by protestors since mid-January. Tens of thousands of citizens are camping indefinitely in various parks and near primary government buildings. A few major roads have been closed down, causing citywide traffic disruptions, but public transportation such as the Skytrain and airports and large tourist attractions are unaffected.

The protestors want current Prime Minister Shinawatra to step down from office. They believe she is guilty of corruption and illegal collaboration with an exiled former PM -- who happens to be her older brother. The siblings' political influence has stood strong for a decade; their party routinely sweeps all the votes of Thailand's farmers and poorer rural citizens in the populous north and northeast. A policy in which the government buys farmers' subsidized rice surely counts in the current ruling party's favor. On the other hand, southerners, city-dwellers, and the middle class oppose them and are literally demanding that the entire government be replaced.

Thaksin is the guilty and exiled ex-PM. His sister, Yingluck Shinawatra, is the current PM trying to hold on to her seat.

In response to the protests, Shinawatra dissolved Thailand's parliament and scheduled new elections for February 2nd. (Everywhere I traveled in Thailand, I saw large glossy campaign posters.) However, the protestors won't settle for elections, since they distrust the voting system itself. Instead, they want a purely democratic "people's council" to take over governmental affairs: "Reform before election" is one of their rallying cries.

Although the current shutdown has culminated from protests that began last November, in reality, the political unrest has surfaced continuously in the past decade; protests and demonstrates erupt every few years and have been violent and even fatal. Here is a very thorough analysis of the big picture from CNN that ends with a "bleak prognosis" for Thailand.

A protestor beneath the Thai flag. (He totally knew I was taking a photo of him.)

Day 2 (Jan. 25): Bangkok Protests
So what was my experience, exactly? Recall that on the day I met my father's friend for lunch, he suggested we take a walk at a nearby park. The park he had in mind was Lumphini Park, one of Bangkok's largest green spaces, which serves its purposes well: to give citizens a place of retreat from the dust and noise of the city, and also to give them a place to gather when they want to take down the government.

As we neared the park, we walked through a massive daytime market that had taken over empty streets beneath the Silom and Sala Daeng Skytrain stations. From lottery tickets, souvenirs, and snacks, soon the stalls' wares turned into whistles, ribbons, t-shirts that read "Shut Down Bangkok, Restart Thailand", and all sorts of paraphernalia bedecked in the red, white, and blue stripes of the Thai flag. I was actually completely unaware that we were headed directly to a protest site until we crossed a sandbag blockade and were inside it, and then I was taken by surprise.

Singing and dancing "here upon these stones"...

I saw a large crowd of people gathered beneath the overpass around a large stage erected on the road. They weren't yelling or chanting. They were... dancing. A band was on stage playing music. People waved the Thai flag and sang and clapped along. They arrived wearing protest t-shirts, bought whistles, buttons, and armbands, and joined the crowd.

The atmosphere was that of a carnival, not an angry demonstration. I wasn't the only tourist there, either. Many others had gathered at the fringes of the crowd to watch and take photos. A lot of them had descended from the Skytrain station just above us and were probably just as surprised that the shopping mall and entertainment complex they'd intended to visit had a makeshift counterpart outside.

Lumphini Park has become a campsite for protestors.

My father's friend then left me to my own devices, as he had some meetings to attend. I passed the mini-concert and entered Lumphini Park itself, which had been converted to a large campsite for all of the protestors who were earnest enough to sleep in tents for weeks in order to maintain the blockades. Although I was a bit tense as I walked through their territory, I realized soon enough that there was nothing to fear. Everyone was idling away the late afternoon, napping in the warm sun, or preparing food for the evening. Despite my initial plan to stay far away from Bangkok's protest sites, the fact that a resident of Bangkok had cheerfully led me straight into the heart of it all was a kind of reassurance that I would be safe. So, I took my time and had a good look, and of course I took many photos.

I was continually amused by how well the street vendors had capitalized on the protest to make bank with their wares. I bought a shutdown t-shirt to support the cause, but I was later told that the money is only going into the pockets of these opportunists. Democracy may be at stake here, but capitalism certainly isn't!

Democracy, capitalism, Thai nationalist gear, the American flag, McDonald's, handbags, etc. etc.

So. Many. T-shirts.

But most striking to me was the overall placidity and positive vibe of the protest. It wasn't like the French grève, nor was it quite like the American Occupy Movement, during which I caught a glimpse of Occupy Philly and felt its sullenness and indignation. Though violence has broken out during the Bangkok protests, most of it has taken place at night and is quite isolated. During the day, this place is practically a party. There's no civil war brewing, just coffee and tea (and it's for sale).

After I had circled the park and the market once, the band had finished its set and someone actually took to the stage for a speech and sort of rally. I of course had no idea what he was saying, but I figured that it would be a wise time to leave. As I made my way back out the busy market, I remarked to a German woman also snapping away with her camera that this Thai-style protest really was something different. She agreed. "I have lived here for years," she said. "The world needs to know what it is actually like."

Who wants a photo with the leaders of the opposition party?

In conclusion, the Bangkok protest sites were a very interesting and unexpected sight during my short stay in the city, and fortunately, I felt perfectly safe the entire time. Not that I want to downplay the risk of being there -- yes, people have died, and an American photojournalist was wounded -- but I think it's worth seeing the form a political demonstration takes in this famously laidback country. Even with all the grievances, the hurt, and the layers of complexity to the current government situation, Thai protestors still take time off in the afternoon to nap.

Day 10 (Feb. 2): Elections
The elections went forward as the PM planned on February 2nd, and during this time I was in Laos, not Thailand. I was told that they took place without much incident, but the news reports say otherwise, or are blowing some things out of proportion, I'm not sure:

- The day prior to the elections, anti-government protestors opened fire on pro-government protestors ("red shirts") and police.
- On election day, anti-government protestors blocked ballot delivery and caused other problems delaying or disrupting the process entirely. Some estimate about twelve million disenfranchised voters! Is this democracy?
- As a result, not enough seats in the Thai parliament have been filled, so the elections were officially unsuccessful. Not good news for the PM.
- Even worse, angry farmers, normally the backbone of her party's support, have taken to protest as well, since the rice-subsidy program is floundering.

Day 14 (Feb. 6): Return to Bangkok
I came back to Bangkok on my last vacation day only to hang out for a few hours and then fly out. I visited some famous tourist attractions and stayed in a part of the city far from the protests. Everything seemed calm from that distance, of course. I mean, at least the city hadn't descended into war. It remains to be seen where Thailand will go from here, but now that I've been and experienced a slice of their history, I know I'll keep an eye on it.

Let's Talk About North Korea

The question of the day: "Are you worried about North Korea attacking South Korea?"

Fortunately, my eleven-student third-year classes did not take the exercise too seriously. They are allowed to choose between two daily questions. The other was, "What did you do last weekend?" But I only asked about North Korea because some of them walked into class talking about it. "Teacher," they said, "North Korea, missile, today!"*

And they were frivolously cheerful because if North Korea obliterated the South with nuclear weapons, then they would not have to take their midterm exams.

So I casually asked for their opinions, careful not to express my own views on the matter, and listened attentively to their responses.

Most students replied in the negative. "No, I'm not worried." Why, I asked. "Because Kim Jong-un is just making empty threats." Or "because North Korea will attack America first." And "because if they launch a missile at us, then the United States will launch a missile at them, and then they will be -- Boom! (Sound effects, gesticulations, laughter) Gone."

When it was KW's turn, I asked him which question he wanted. "Question two," he said.

"Are you worried about North Korea?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because my brother is... 군인? 군인... Soldier!" he said, finally, adding, "He would die."

"If North Korea attacks South Korea--" I began.

"If North Korea attacks South Korea, then my brother would die," KW finished.

Suddenly, MW's head jerked up and she exclaimed, "Oh! Me too!"

And SJ also had a moment of realization. "Me too!"

"Wait, no," said MW. "Not brother... cousin!"

I was taken aback. "You all have brothers in the military?" I asked.

JB, who was a little slow on the uptake, asked MW in Korean, "What's 'cousin'?" -- "사촌," she replied. "Oh," he said, "me too!"

Everyone laughed at the coincidences, but it was actually quite sobering. About half of my students had a family member or knew someone in the ROK military, thanks to the mandatory two years of service for all able-bodied males. If war broke out, we all acknowledged, their lives would all be in danger.

But would North Korea (북한/Bukhan) attack? Most people back in the States seem to be genuinely worried about their safety. But your average South Korean just shrugs off the menace. It's a delicate balance between knowing that North Korea is bluffing and does not have any logical reason to make good on its threats against the US and South Korea and taking into account the apparent lack of logic that defines the current Kim regime. North Korea is unpredictable, and unpredictable is dangerous. Right?

Right, except North Korea is predictable, and their belligerence is nothing new. That's why South Koreans are not scared. Perhaps deep down, they are thinking critically about what would happen in the worst case scenario (everyone dies, so that's that). But day by day, concerns over food, finances, and next week's exams are the top priorities, leaving no room for panic, or even anxiety, over North Korea.

A political cartoon from a local newspaper illustrating how South Koreans are more worried about the economic repercussions of war than either A) non-economic casualties or B) war breaking out at all. The text reads: 전쟁나면 서민만 고생... [1st missile] 담보 대출 연체 가압류 [2nd missile] 학자금 대출 연체 가압류 [3rd missile] 손해배상 가압류 [running man]: "안 나도 서민만 고생." Translation: If war breaks out, only the common people suffer... [1] foreclosure due to overdue mortgage loan [2] foreclosure due to overdue student loans [3] foreclosure due to compensation for damages [running man]: "Even if [war] doesn't break out, we suffer."

That's why I myself am not worried. At all. I mean, I don't even think about North Korea much, even though it is often on the news. But South Korea isn't into fear-mongering, at least with regard to this particular social issue. I feel like the American media is quite different, with doomsday reports on some networks having led some Fulbrighters' parents to call frantically from the US asking if the imminent nuclear apocalypse is grave enough to warrant leaving the country. Well, my parents haven't mentioned word one about North Korea or asked about my safety in the past month, so they're either unfazed by nuclear rhetoric or they just don't care.

But that doesn't mean I can't relate to the feeling of dread when one's family is at even the slightest risk of danger. Before class one day*, I found CY looking out the classroom window at the army training base across the valley from our school. It's so close to us that I can hear taps playing from the barracks when I walk home in the evenings, and when they run drills I sometimes spot colored smoke rising from the trees, even from my desk in the office. CY was now looking at the low gray buildings. "Three weeks later," she said quietly, "my brother will go there."

"Your brother is going to be a soldier?" I asked. "In three weeks?"

"Yes," she said.

"I see," I replied. "Are you going to miss him?"

CY nodded. Suddenly, it hit me.

"Ah! But, North Korea... Oh, okay. Oh, dear. That's tough. Are you worried? Your brother is not going to the border, is he?"

"No," said CY, pointing to the army base. "There."

"Oh, really? He's going to be right there? Well, that's good. He's very close. Can you visit him?"

She shook her head. "I think not."

"Well, I'm sure he will be fine," I said, actually unsure of anything I should say in that moment. "Two years is a long time, but I think he will be okay."

- - -

*This class and conversation took place about two weeks ago. I would have posted this then, but 1) I was busy and 2) it's not like the so-called North Korean threat has blown over quite yet, even if other international news has overshadowed it.

P.S. A recent Reddit IAmA featured a North Korean defector, answering users' questions about life in the communist state. A very interesting read.

Park Geun-hye to Win South Korean Election

And it looks like Park Geun-hye will win this election! With over 75% of votes in, the Saenuri Party candidate has a strong lead (51.8% to the Democratic Party's 48.1%), according to KBS News. In fact, they called a winner as early as 9:30pm, over an hour before the results were to be finalized. South Korea is going to have its first female President!

Host parents at the polling place.
I saw some of my students volunteering!

I was watching news coverage of the election with my host brother. The news was interesting for two reasons: 1) adorable animated representations of the two main candidates in the early segments and 2) the vote tallies broken down by city and province.

My province, Gyeongnam, gave Park a strong lead, and in cities such as Daegu and Busan, the conservative party won without a doubt. On the other hand, on the western Jeolla Provinces, Moon Jae-in completely swept the polls, in particular winning over 90% of votes in Gwangju. Moon also won a majority in Seoul, although Park took the surrounding Gyeonggi Province.

All of this notwithstanding, since Korea's election runs on a popular vote only, the provincial statistics don't actually count for anything. It's just interesting to see how the country divides along party lines.

Oh, and another thing: I was watching the news coverage with my host brother, because my host mother went to bed early, 아파서, and my host father is commiserating at a friend's house. He told me today that most of Korea would be drinking tonight: 52%, as it stands, in celebration, and 48% in sorrow.

P.S. In other news, I watched The Hobbit today, in English with Korean subtitles. It was nowhere near the marvel that is The Fellowship of the Ring, but it does fit in almost seamlessly with the fantastic, adventurous tone of the series as a whole.

I watched the movie with Tyler and some other friends. This is Tyler, campaigning on behalf of Moon Jae-in. These campaign trucks have been everywhere for the past month, blaring music and showing pro-whoever videos in every corner of town.

P.P.S. Speaking of adorable (or WTH-worthy) election coverage on the news, here's one example:

Much more interesting than flatscreens with maps of states that change colors.

Let's Talk About Issues

Tonight was the final community center Korean class of the year, and there were much fewer students and teachers than usual. I suppose most people were busy with travel or end-of-the-year preparations, or maybe they were partying it up since, hey, no work tomorrow! Most of the country will have the day off on the 19th because it's election day. (What a great way to encourage people to vote! Why can't we do that in the U.S.?)

In class, I decided to chat with my conversation partner about the election. It seems to be either illegal or very frowned upon to share who you've decided to vote for in a public forum, so I didn't press the question. I did, however, pick up tons of election-related vocabulary. Here we go:

선거 (seongeo) is election, and 대선거 (daeseongeo) refers to the Presidential election. The two main 후보 (hubo), or candidates, are Park Geun-hye (박근혜) and Moon Jae-in (문재인). There was a somewhat substantial third-party candidate, Lee Chung-hee (이충희), but she declared right from the beginning of her campaign that she was only running in order to get a national platform upon which to attack Park as much as possible, then proceeded to do so, and finally withdrew from the election yesterday. Sneaky woman. But that's a pretty baller way to use politics (정치/jeongchi). Anyway, now Park and Moon are 서로 경쟁하고 있다: competing with each other, and the polls right now show a 박빙, or a very close race.

Park Geun-hye of the Saenuri Party and Moon Jae-in of the Democratic Party. Courtesy Yonhap News.

Park's party is called the 새누리당 (Saenuri Dang), which means the "New World Party". They are politically conservative (보수적), wary of North Korea, and well supported by the older generations and the nation's elite (including chaebols, or business conglomerates like Samsung and Hyundai). They are the party of Korea's troubled string of dictators, who controversially led the country to miraculous economic prosperity despite horrific human rights abuses, as well as the current President Lee Myoung-bak (이명박). Park herself is the daughter of Park Chung-hee, an important figure in modern Korean history. She has been involved in politics essentially as long as her father has, which means she already has strong ties to the government (정부) over which she is trying to gain control.

Moon's party is the 민주당 (Minju Dang), which simply means the Democratic Party. More progressive (진보적), more tolerant, and younger: altogether unsurprising. Moon himself is a lawyer 변호사/pyeonhosa) with less political experience, but he did serve as chief of staff for Roh Moo-hyun, the President of Korea prior to Lee.

I am admittedly not too well informed of the candidates' actual 정치철학 (jeongchicheolhak/political philosophies), knowing little more than what I hear from my Korean friends and read on Koreabang, but since I personally lean somewhat left of center, I think it would be good if the more liberal candidate become President (대통령/daetongryeong). My host family asked me not to write on this blog who they would voting for, despite their having already told me, perhaps due to the public nature of this blog and the aforementioned "keep your vote secret" thing. I can't vote, so my opinion doesn't matter much... but on the plus side, my host parents have promised to take me with them to the polling place tomorrow morning so that I can watch and take photos! This event only takes place once every five years, so I'm excited for the opportunity.

A vigil in NYC for the victims of the Sandy Hook shootings in Newton, Connecticut. Courtesy TIME Newsfeed.

And now for a much sadder 이야기 주제 (topic of conversation)... the Sandy Hook shootings. Like most 소식 (news) from the US, I first grabbed bits and pieces of information from Facebook, and then I went to Buzzfeed and TIME. The story was shocking and awful, but I honestly haven't stopped to mourn or even really think about it. Of course, it was on the news in Korea, but since I'm not surrounded by Americans and because I'm not in America, the issue was never shoved in my face. I actually avoided most of the dozens of articles being written on every corner of the Internet with updates to the story regarding the shooter's background, or more tales of heroism and survival. I just didn't want to confront it.

But tonight at class, and also afterward, I had to confront it. A lull in the conversation with my speaking partner led to the question, "What are your opinions on gun control in the United States?" My Korean tutor was extremely curious. In Korea, personal firearms are illegal, so you can imagine that the number of gun-related deaths in the country is extremely low. Compared to my trigger-happy country, well...

What struck me, however, was that as soon as I thought about the question for a moment, I realized that I actually really did not want to talk about this, least of all in Korean. Not only is gun control a hideously complex issue, it also requires grammar that I don't have yet to explain in a language I still can only barely grasp. But I tried, because that's what this class is for.

이사건에서 문제는 총이 않은데 정신병이었다라고 생각해요. 그 남자 정신병이 앓고 있었어요; 총이없으면 다른 사람을 아직 다치게 할수 있어요. 미국 사회는 총이 너무 좋아하는데 제일 중요한 문제는 정신 건강이예요. 몇 사람의 생각에는 더 많은 총은 더 많은 문제가 있다. 하지만 완전히 금하면 안되요. 이왕 불법총이 이젠껏 많아서 보통 사람들이 총이 받을수없으면 범인은 오직 총을 있을거예요. 그리고 으리 사회 보다 위험해져요. 그런데 이 주제 굉장히 복잡하네요.

Okay, that was probably all over the place in terms of grammar, but here's what I meant to say: "In my opinion, in [the Sandy Hook] incident, the problem was not guns but mental illness. That man was suffering from mental illness; without a gun he still could (have) hurt other people. American society likes guns too much, but the most important problem is mental health. Some people think that more guns means more problems. However, guns should not be completely banned. Up until now, the number of illegal firearms is already so high that if normal citizens are not able to procure guns, then it is only the criminals who will have them. Thus our society will become more dangerous. Anyway, this issue really is extremely complex."

So that is the gist of what I was talking about, reluctantly, with my Korean tutor. I tried to steer the conversation back to the election, but in the end I just announced that I was really sad now and couldn't think of anything else to say.

Late at night, when I returned from Korean class, I chatted with my host parents about the election. But inevitably, just as it had in class, the conversation switched to Sandy Hook and my thoughts on gun control. By this time, I really did not want to talk about it, but I tried my best to rehash the opinions I'd developed earlier. My host parents are fiercely anti-gun, and I could tell that they really didn't understand why "everyone in America has guns". ("Do you have a gun?" my host father asked me. I was too tired to mask my horror at the question.)

I also perceived their utter sorrow at the fact that the shootings took place at a school -- my host parents are both teachers -- and when I mentioned the argument some people have given for equipping teachers with guns, my host mother completed the thought: so that the teachers could have protected the children... There was so much conflict in her eyes. It was really telling.

518 Memorial (Gwangju pt. 5)

A bit of history for today, courtesy Wikipedia. In December 1979, ROK Army General Chun Doo-hwan staged a coup-d'état and gained control over South Korea. He quickly became a dictator, backed by Reagan's Washington, who established martial law throughout a nation struggling with social instability due to economic woes and the ongoing threat of its northern neighbor. South Koreans at that time found themselves rid of one dictator (Park Chung-hee, whose daughter Park Geun-hye is currently running for president) only to be given another, whose harsh policies were immediately unpopular. These included the closing of universities, military presence in cities, and restrictions on free speech. Korea's southwestern Jeolla Provinces, of which Gwangju was a capital at the time, were especially hard hit by the new measures and political discrimination.

It wasn't long before citizens organized in protest. In May of 1980, several large demonstrations took place around the country. General Chun responded by sending in the troops to quell anti-government activity. Everything came to a head on May 17th, when a hundreds-strong student protest at Gwangju's Chonnam University clashed with a platoon of paratroopers. From the first morning skirmish throughout the day, both the number of protesters and the number of troops escalated dramatically, along with the number of casualties. The citizens numbered in the thousands by the end of the day, and by May 20th, they were more than ten thousand.

On May 21st, the protests went haywire and turned into a battle: civilians broke into armories and police stations and opened fire on the army; the army in turn used tear gas, bullets, and, by some accounts, bayonets on protesters, on-lookers, and anybody caught in the crossfire. Cars and taxis were used as weapons and barricades.

From May 22nd to the 25th, the army retreated and waited for reinforcements. The Democratization Movement had successfully taken control over Gwangju. However, on the 27th, the army reinforcements arrived, re-entered the city, and completely quashed the defenders in less than two hours.

In total, there may have been between one and two thousand deaths, but it is unclear what the exact total is.

In the years following the Gwangju Democratization Movement, many more movements were born and eventually brought democracy to South Korea in the late 1980's. South Korea's government and the city of Gwangju have done quite a lot to memorialize the sacrificial efforts of the protesters, support the families of the victims, and establish "518" as a means of remembering the cost of freedom. To that end, the 518 Memorial Park in Gwangju is an amazing monument to this milestone in Korean history.

On Sunday afternoon, I visited the 518 (오일팔/o-il-pal, not five-eighteen) Memorial with Adam, Katelyn, and Julia. It was a peaceful park where families were playing in what little snow was left, couples were exercising together, and tourists were seemingly absent.

The main sculpture in the park, in front of the underground memorial chamber (beneath all of those poles in the background). (taken by Adam)

We were able to walk among the poles, which were really shiny and mesmerizing in the way they glowed in the late afternoon sun.

The three awe-inspiring things in the underground chamber were this sculpture of a woman holding a dead protester, the wall of the names of the victims of the massacre, and the relief sculpture (not pictured, as it was behind me) that depicted the events of May 18th.

This was at another part of the park, another striking sculpture that commemorates the struggle for democracy.

Dwarfed by the 518 Memorial. (taken by Katelyn)

My friends and I had very little grasp of the historical context of the memorial, only going because we knew it was one of the must-sees of Gwangju. But after doing our research, the whole park became so much more meaningful, and not just pretty. What boggles my mind the most is that all of these incredible, horrible, yet transformational events took place only thirty years ago. The generation of students who clashed against their country's army is still alive and well, which stands in stark contrast to my own country's democratic revolution, which occurred nearly 250 years ago. It doesn't seem possible, when you look at Korea today, that only one generation has passed since 518.

With that on our minds, we were fairly quiet as we walked around the park and explored the other things of note. Besides memorials and sculptures, there was a small temple at the top of a hill and a very tall pagoda-like tower. After climbing to the third story, we had a spectacular view of the entire city of Gwangju, and we could even spot snow-capped mountains in the distance on all sides. It was lovely.

And that was the last part of my Gwangju weekend! My friends and I all went to the bus terminal directly from the park, got a quick dinner, and boarded our separate buses headed for our separate cities. I remember sitting in front of a group of very loud American girls who, when the bus stopped by my neighborhood in Changwon, called it "this city's red light district". 헐. That is so untrue. Whatever, okay, that's all! Wow, I'm sorry for taking five posts to talk about less than two days' worth of travel. And I didn't even cover everything. I hope you enjoyed the photos and stories, though!

Volunteering with North Korean Defectors (Gwangju pt. 2)

On Saturday afternoon of my weekend in Gwangju, I accompanied Katelyn and Jason to the "HaNa Center" where free English tutoring sessions, among other events and services, are provided for North Korean defectors.

While leaving the communist nation is a severe crime for its oppressed citizens, many still risk their lives to cross the dangerous borders, and some (over 2,000 a year, now totaling over 20,000) eventually find their way to South Korea, where they begin the lifelong task of assimilation. Because so many of these people have left their families behind and are almost completely unable to maintain communication with them, it certainly isn't easy.

Along with seeking gainful employment or trying to fit in at school, defectors also take on learning English, still considered the key to a more prosperous life. This is where the HaNa centers come in. ("Hana" (하나) is the Korean word for "one", and it represents the desire for the eventual reunification of the two Koreas.) Some Fulbright ETAs volunteer weekly or bi-weekly at HaNa centers to teach and tutor defectors who range from children learning the alphabet to adults preparing for job interviews.

I am not allowed to say much more about these centers, where they are, or who is involved, etc. (and I didn't even take any photos at the center itself), but my short experience there was memorable.

The three of us were the first to arrive, and my first priority was to sit by the space heater and dry my socks and shoes. One student came, an older woman, and the other two ETAs went over her learning materials with her for a bit, until she started asking more complex questions in Korean, and I was summoned to translate (granted, my Korean is only marginally better than theirs, so I don't know how helpful I really was. Honestly, how do you explain what the meaning of "the" is, even in English, let alone in broken Korean?).

I proceeded to spend the next hour and a half going over verb tenses, some random everyday vocabulary, and some trickier aspects of English pronunciation with her. It was a bit repetitive, but she was a really energetic personality and the time flew by. As it did, four more students arrived, all of them school-aged, plus one toddler who spent an hour being chased around the classroom by another ETA who came later. So, all in all, there were four ETAs and six students, which amounted to what Jason and Katelyn called the largest turnout they'd had in a while. It's a good thing I was there to help out!

But... I guess what struck me most about volunteering at the HaNa center was that it was so ordinary. Really, it's no different from the volunteer-based Korean class I attend weekly, only there I'm the student and not the teacher. There wasn't anything particularly special or different that I noticed about the Koreans there. I didn't have any expectations going in, but I came out having enjoyed my afternoon, and if proximity weren't such a huge issue, it's something I would definitely do regularly. My student seemed disappointed when I told her I was only visiting for the weekend and wouldn't be back next week.

Here is a short news piece from the Gwangju News on the HaNa center in Gwangju, with quotes from Fulbright ETAs.

And here is an interesting short news segment from BBC on North Korean defectors who will be able to vote, for the first time, in South Korea's upcoming election. Looks like they tend to swing conservative!

President Obama Won!

오바마는 이겼어요! Obama won!

This morning, I had only one class scheduled, but it was canceled without my knowing because my students had to assist in a mock-수능 (Korean SAT) examination. While bummed that I did not get to do my Election Day lesson, at least this left me free to watch Election Day unfold on my own. I hooked up the smart screen in an empty classroom to the Huffington Post's awesome live-updated Election Results webpage. It was intense and thrilling to watch electoral votes get picked up by the dozens by Romney at first, but when the West Coast brought it back for Obama, I cheered. I was also glued to Time's live blog, CNN's minute-by-minute updates, and my Facebook feed, and I couldn't really get any work done.

After lunch, I came straight back to my classroom to watch the swing states (Ohio, Virginia, Florida, Colorado) battle it out on the smart screen, and some of my students came by to watch. Even though I didn't teach any classes today, I was able to teach a dozen or so interested first-years, as well as my English co-teachers, about the electoral college and other interesting tidbits about the election, such as voter disenfranchisement, the bicameral legislature, and "flip-flopping".

When California went to Obama, I cheered. When Oregon brought him over 200, I cheered. When Ohio and Pennsylvania turned definitely blue, I cheered! And my students were also in on it. I'm so glad that they showed some interest; arguably Korea's future relationship with the United States hinges on the re-election of a man who has better foreign policy experience (despite questionable educational ideologies).

In the end, I'm very proud of my president and pleased that he gets a second term. Obama is imperfect, of course. Who isn't? He was hesitant and obstructed in the past four years, but I'm confident that we will all look past the messy politics and that real change is on its way.

Here is a video of his victory speech in Chicago, from the Associated Press:

Korea will also hold a presidential election this year. They occur every five years in the democratic South, and presidents have only one term. Thus, Lee Myung-Bak is on his way out (thankfully), and one of three contenders will take his place: Park Geun-hye (박근혜, right-wing), Moon Jae-in (문재인, left-wing), or Ahn Cheol-soo (안철수, left-leaning independent). The election will take place on December 19th, just a few days before I leave Korea to go home to the States for Christmas.

Teaching Politics

I made a mistake today. Well, the mistake was yesterday, actually. Yesterday, I assumed that I would have enough time in the morning -- because I normally have no classes on Mondays before lunch -- to cobble together a quick lesson on American politics and the upcoming election for my first-years.

In Korea, never assume.

As soon as first period had started, one of my co-teachers came by my office and told me that the schedule for the second-years' college prep English conversation course had been finalized. Oh, yes, I forgot: November has been ushered in with a complete reshuffling of my second-year classes. Now, I had known this, but I forgot how soon the change would occur. To my dismay, the new schedule had bumped one of my first-year classes up to Mondays. Mondays at third period, to be exact. Which would begin in less than two hours.

I definitely had to scramble to get the lesson done, and it wasn't great. I essentially talked at my students for half an hour and then had them watch a snippet of Obama's acceptance speech at this year's Democratic National Convention. It was boring, some of them fell asleep, and the fault is entirely mine.

My co-teacher, always supportive, told me she thought it was a great lesson and that my timing was perfect. I thanked her for the compliment, but I completely disagree; it was a crappy lesson, and I should have begun planning it last week. I sat right back down at my desk after third period, and worked on it during fourth, fifth, and sixth, as well, to fix it for the next class. I did some quick research. I made a ballot box out of an empty box of chocopie (always useful; I'd like more). And I went to seventh period armed and ready!

My MacGyvered ballot box, made from an empty chocopie box, plus ballots.

Fortunately, version 2.0 of the Election Day lesson went wonderfully. I began the class with hangman, which, I have discovered this late in the game, all of my students love unconditionally. "Exercise your right to vote!" And then I had them brainstorm types of government. This was hilarious, as I got some of the usual, "democracy", "kingdom", "socialism"... and then some more creative answers: "non-government" (anarchy), "priest-government" (theocracy), and "dictation" (dictatorship). And then a poor student tried to say "vassalage", and I have no idea where he learned that word -- even I couldn't decipher what he was trying to say (or spell; he tried V-A-S-S-L-L-G-E) for several minutes. So, yes, today I went on a tangent and told my students about feudalism.

After introducing the current candidates for tomorrow's election, with some awesome coincidental mnemonics (Democrat, Donkey, Obama, Biden, Blue, Left-wing vs. Republican, Elephant, Romney, Ryan, Red, Right-wing), I actually had my students vote! I presented Obama's and Romney's stances -- extremely simplified, and non-partisan -- on education, the environment, the economy, healthcare, and same-sex marriage (information grabbed hastily and gratefully from aljazeera), and then passed out mock ballots for the "state" of Changwon Science High School. Our constituents were voting on President and also the passage of a certain Proposition 31, which would continue funding for English classes at our school even though "we suddenly have no more money".

I am happy to report that in Class 1-3, Obama won and Proposition 31 was passed, both by a landslide. Here's hoping for the best come November 6th! (My absentee ballot still hasn't been received by Delaware County...)

Look, this voter wrote "I like gay~!" Warms my heart, especially since the average Korean high school classroom is fairly homophobic. When I introduced Obama's and Romney's stances on same-sex marriage -- actually, as soon as I said "same-sex marriage", the whole class went, "Ooooohhhhhhh!!!!1!!1!11" as if I had said a dirty word.

Legacy

I've just watched this YouTube video and it's given me quite a bit to think about. The video is part one of an interview with Kim Han-sol, the eldest son of Kim Jong-nam, who is the eldest son of Kim Jong-il. So, this kid is the grandson of North Korea's recently-deceased dictator.

He's currently studying at United World College in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and sat down with the president of his school to talk about his childhood and his dreams for the future. You can watch the first part of the interview (starts at 1:35, and is interspersed with footage of North Korea and some captions in Swedish at random intervals) below.
Some of my stray thoughts:

1. Han-sol is studying at a school that was founded with the explicit intent to educate the next generation about peace and conflict resolution. I think that's a promising start. All of his friends are multicultural and come from all over the world. His roommate was from Libya and told him stories of the Libyan Revolution. He has a few South Korean friends with whom he's traveled. For someone of his family background to have had these kinds of experiences by the time he enters college is a great privilege. It sounds like he acknowledges this, too, and hopes one day to work for peace and -- get this -- unification of the Korean peninsula.

2. He has never met his grandfather or his uncle (Kim Jong-eun, the current leader of North Korea). His immediate family has actually fallen out of favor with the current dynasty in power, and they live in Macau. Han-sol received his high school education at an international school in Macau. He says that he always wanted to meet his grandfather, though, and isn't sure if Kim Jong-il even knew that he exists before he passed.

3. His parents taught him to keep an open mind and always look at both sides of an issue. Political neutrality, in other words. They told him to forget about his background and try to live the life of an ordinary citizen in order to better understand his people. He also remembers to be thankful before he eats a meal, thinking about those starving back in his home country. From this and the previous stray thought one can conclude that this young man is very far removed from the current regime in North Korea not just geographically, but also politically and even ideologically.

"I've had some friends from South Korea in Macau, and it's quite interesting because the two countries, they are trying to work to build peace together for unification, but at the same time there are laws that say North and South Koreans shouldn't interact with each other even outside of Korea. 

And me and my South Korean friends, at first it was kind of awkward when I first met them. But then, little by little, we started understanding each other, again, through the same classroom experience. And also sometimes we share our stories from back home and realize how similar we are. Same language, same culture, and it's just political issues that divide the nation in half. And now, today, we are really close friends and we travel together and it's such a wonderful feeling."

4. I'm not sure what he means when he says that the two countries are trying to work to build peace together for unification. That's not happening, as far as I can tell. Furthermore, it is not only political issues that separate the Koreas now, but also the fact that there is an economic and humanitarian crisis in one country while the other is still riding the crest of a huge economic boom. It makes me wonder how much he really knows about what is happening in the rural areas and the prison camps, places outside of Pyongyang or his mother's hometown. Or maybe he's just being very careful with what he says (but not so much that he avoids mentioning "unification" altogether).

5. Otherwise, he appears to be unhesitatingly idealistic, as well as proud of his school. He loves its diversity. He likes chatting with his friends for hours about politics and cultural differences and similarities. Best of all, he has big dreams about world peace. I think he'd have fit in very well at Swarthmore...

"I've always dreamed that one day I will go back and make things better and make it easier for the people there. I also dream of unification, because it's really sad that I can't go to the other side and see my friends over there."

6. He speaks English quite well, with a slight Korean accent and just a hint of a Slavic accent... am I just imagining that? Especially when he says "topics". Otherwise, his diction is otherwise very similar to a typical college freshman. He's careful with his words, but he rambles. He says "like" a lot.

7. The interviewer is definitely pushing an agenda. She's kind of annoying in that way. Shh, just let him speak. Crack more jokes so he smiles more, okay? Oh -- but before I forget, something hilarious happens in the last ten seconds of the interview (in part 2): Elisabeth Rehn tells Han-sol that he's a sweet kid and that she'd have liked to have him as a grandson. "But you have already... your own parents," she continues. She was totally going to say "grandparents". Oh, except... Yeah.

8. Lastly, I wonder if Kim Han-sol has a future in politics? It's very unlikely under the current regime, of course, what with his family being in quasi-exile, and well, to be frank, after giving this interview he'll probably never be able to visit North Korea again. Nevertheless, he looks and sounds promising. He probably has a bright future ahead of him regardless of what he chooses to do. I wish him all the best!

I voted!

I received my absentee ballot today, filled it out, and sent it home. I didn't expedite it, though, so here's to hoping it reaches Delaware County before November 6th!

Now it's your turn!

Some election vocabulary (Korean speakers, feel free to correct my mistakes!):

election - 선거 (seongeo)

to vote - 투표하다 (tupyohada)

absentee - 부재자 (bujaeja)

to win an election - 당선되다

Democratic Party - 민주당 (minjudang)

Republican Party - 공화당 (gonghwadang)

오늘 저는 부재두표 했어요.

Today, I voted absentee.

버락 오바마는 다시 당선되면 좋아요.

It'll be great if Barack Obama wins again.

적어도, 미트 롬니 당선보다 좋겠다.

At least it should be better than a (Mitt) Romney win.

Exercising my rights and my Korean skills

Absentee voting from abroad is not easy.

The general election is on November 6th, and as I am abroad and unable to vote in person, I needed to send an FPCA (Federal Post Card Application) to receive my ballot. I filled out the FPCA two weeks ago and faxed it, but I was never sure if it was received on the other hand. I waited for my absentee ballot to arrive in my inbox, but it never did. So, I called yesterday (hoping that the international call would be short and not keep me counting the seconds on hold for fear of my phone bill) and was notified that my FPCA never even made it to Delaware County.

So, I did it all again today: printed out a new form, scanned it, and sent it by email this time, and then went to the post office to mail the original as well. I should have done this the first time around. But the prospect of having to mail anything from Korea by myself was... not inviting, to be honest.

It's quite frightening for to have to use my limited Korean in "real life" -- which means in public, with Koreans who do not speak English and are not my friends or teachers who understand that I don't really speak Korean very well at all.

As I was walking toward the post office (우체국) this afternoon, a thought suddenly struck me: Andrew, you're about to have to use Korean only to communicate for the next thirty minutes at least. It may be a disaster. Brace yourself, be confident, and keep a smile on.

I entered the post office, took my number after looking confused for a few brief seconds, and sat down to wait. While I waited, I looked up the words for "special", "envelope", and "send" on my phone's dictionary app. I needed a special envelope -- actually, I needed a normal envelope, but on this blank envelope I needed to print the FPCA template for the address that would allow me to send it postage paid.

My original intent was to buy an envelope and then take it back to school to print out the template, only then to return to the post office to actually send it. But I noticed that the post office had printers of its own, so I decided to try to ask if they could print it here for me. I somehow made myself understood and the post office worker took my flash drive to check what was on it. Unfortunately, her supervisor saw what she was doing and was all like, "Nope! Can't do that here. Go to a PC방." Tail between my legs, I scurried away (taking the envelope with me without paying for it).

At the PC방 (a public computer gaming room), I asked the two guys working there if I could print stuff off. I already knew the answer before I asked, though; the PC방 was smoky, noisy, and full of computers for League of Legends and whatnot, without a printer in sight. I was then told that PC방 rarely had printers; they had no other suggestions for me.

Getting a bit desperate, I Kakao-ed a Korean friend and asked for her advice. She told me that unfortunately she wasn't sure where I should go, but perhaps look for a 인쇄소 (print shop). So, I went into the nearest convenience store to ask if there were any in this area. Nope. At this point I had spent close to half an hour trying to communicate with six different Koreans, all without success, just to find a public printer.

Exasperated, I decided to forfeit the postage paid envelope and just write the freaking address on the envelope on my own, and pay for it myself. So back to the post office. And here's the rest of my conversation with the post office worker (PO), translated from Korean.

Me: The PC room couldn't print it, so...
PO: When do you want this to arrive?
Me: Uh...
PO: Normal postage will take 10 days.
Me: Oh, 10 days?
PO: Do you want to expedite it? It'll be expensive.
Me: Oh, how expensive?
PO: [checks figures] ... 17,600 won ($16). Very expensive!
Me: [thinking: holy @*#$!] Oh, yes, that's expensive! Um...
PO: It will arrive next Tuesday if you expedite. But it's very expensive.
Me: Um... normal is okay, then.
PO: Normal?
Me: Yes.
PO: Okay... 610 won ($0.50).
Me: [thinking: and I went to all that trouble to try to print on the envelope...] Okay. Thank you.
PO: Did you just come back from living in America?
Me: What?
PO: Did you just come back from living in America?
Me: [not understanding the question] Uh, yes, I came back from living in America?
By now, everyone in the office is listening, and they laugh when I say this.
Me: What?
PO: Were you born in America?
Me: Oh, yes. In California.
PO: Ah. Are you Korean?
Me: Huh? No.
PO: American?
Me: Yes.
PO: Your face looks Korean!
Me: Oh, no, I'm not. I'm Taiwanese-American.
PO: AH! Taiwanese-American! [to others] He's Taiwanese-American. You look very Korean! We thought you were Korean!
Me: Really? Thanks.
PO: You speak Korean well.
Me: No, not really. Thank you.
PO: Okay, have a nice day!
Me: Goodbye!

Anyway, I'd better get my absentee ballot asap. I'm also going to use the Federal Write-in Absentee Ballot just in case. This probably means another trip to the post office soon. What fun!