June 22, 2009
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relatively speaking
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA | JAMSHIL APARTMENT, 15F ยป
I forget my cousins’ names all the time. Not the typical symptom of most people with extended families, I imagine, but absolutely the case in mine. Such is the plight of having parents with five siblings each, resulting in a dizzying 30+ cousins spanning an age range of another 30+ years. Add to that a significant but narrowing language barrier and a terribly infrequent visiting schedule and one has no choice but to embarrassingly call one’s cousin a beauty salon instead of her real name–not that I ever committed such a crime, of course.
It’s the close of Day 4 here in my whirlwind tour of the South Korean peninsula. Having started on the western coastal city of Incheon, I roadtripped down to the cities of Jeonju (the birthplace of bi bim bap–Yeebee would be proud), Sunchon, and finally Yeosu–the home of my father’s family. From there, I took a train up to see more of my father’s side relatives in Daejeon, and earlier this morning boarded the KTX high speed train to the capital city of Seoul, where most of my mother’s side relatives reside. It’s been an exhaustingly thorough few days, coupled with overcast weather and the usual overprovision of spicy dishes and summer fruits, most notably watermelon. It’s also been a reminder of many things–chief among them, the kindness of my families here in Korea.
I sometimes struggle to explain it, but my aunts, uncles, and cousins extend every hospitality each time I visit Korea. Not that I visit often–in fact, this is only the fourth or fifth time I’ve been to my ethnic homeland, and merely the second if you only count the times I could remember the subtler details of my interactions and affections while here. Still, without fail, I am treated like royalty: aunts and uncles offer to pick me up and drive me to near and far destinations, pay for every meal, snack, and bottle of calorie-free Pepsi Next that I desire, and shower me with compliments-cum-admonishments such as, “How come such a handsome, educated young man like you isn’t married yet?” to which I of course frown and shrug my shoulders.
Even cousins find me fascinating. The younger ones typically remain constantly by my side, smiling brightly, attempting (and often failing) English, resting their heads against my chest. The older ones introduce me to their friends, wives, husbands, and kids, as well as myriad tourist sights (the forested Odong Island near Yeosu, or a high mountaintop vista of Daejeon at night, to name a few), later escorting me to neighborhood bars for a swig of local microbrews or the ever-available soju (“rice wine”)–or both for consumption simlutaenously (also, interestingly, called a “soju bomb” in Korean)! It is they to whom I feel the most gratitude, partly because of our shared peer status, partly because I feel so undeserving of all the attention and time commitment they keep giving me.
I grow more convinced, though, that one of the few ways I’ll be able to repay them is by returning the favor when they (or their kids!) visit the US or UK. In the same way they have made me a priority in their busy lives here, I will do the same for them when they are traveling. I have already offered my contact information to several cousins and cousins’ friends for their upcoming plans to London and Europe–let’s just hope they follow through so I can finally make good on my familial debts!
One of the most grounding things about being here, though, is confronting again the extreme modesty of my father’s hometown. Just outside of Yeosu and adjacent to the city’s airport lies Sinpoong, a small agricultural community of traditional houses and windy one-way streets set against the South Sea delta. As idyllic as it may sound, relaxing oceanside retreat this is not. Consistent with countryside life, beds are merely blankets on a concrete floor, and several people sleep together in one room. At my uncle’s place, only recently did they install a flushing toilet (prior to this they just used a dirt pit inside a wooden shack) and even this doesn’t have a door for privacy. Washing up, brushing teeth, and other bedtime essentials require a combination of bucket, bowl, and ladle, as sinks don’t exist and everything is accomplished by squatting uncomfortably on the floor next to a hose.
And yet, my uncle’s family remains happy, industrious, and beyond generous. Virtually all of the food we eat has been picked from a field, ocean, or rice paddy just a few minutes walk away and prepared with the freshest of seasonings and spice. And the community is one of deep interconnectedness and support, to the point where even folks I never met before remember who I am and embrace me as one of their own. I am often encouraged by the simplicity of their lives, reminded–yes–to be grateful of the opportunities my parents afforded me by being the sole family from both clans to wager a risky move to the States, but also just touched to know that generosity, contentedness, and the ability to love is hardly ever limited by income, status, or materialities. That has been and continues to be one of my most gratifying lessons from my stays here in the motherland.
This trip has also reminded me of a similar summer five years ago, one of tremendous growth and distinctive memories. Again having recently graduated I set out to teach SAT classes and practice Korean along with fellow Providence mates Sujin, Dan, Manny, and Kat. That, I recall, was a summer of curious firsts, of befriending older foreigners and joining them on shopping trips to Apgujeong (i.e. Seoul’s high end fashion district) to buy $5000 suits. I remember partying hard in Sinchon and living easy in Bundang with Yune, and filling my social calendar with all-night clubbing with John in Itaewon, only to emerge the next morning on a post-drunken voyage for spicy ramen noodles at Dongdaemun, the city’s sprawling 24-hour shopping complex. It was a great summer, and then–as now–self-marketed as “the last summer of my entire life.”
So it is on this, the last summer of my life, that I have kicked off leisure travels with Korea yet again, except this time I’ve brought along a friend. Chris, who ranks as one of those rare straight White friends, on a whim took me up on my offer to join me on this abridged version of the Summer of Seoul. We are decidedly fairly compatible when it comes to travel, apart from the jabs he makes about our great divide as Masters of different things, concocting comments like, “I’m just trying to be selfish; you’re an MBA, you should know what I’m talking about.” With a humor that meanders between the clever and the corny, Chris has also demonstrated an unforgiving and eerily superhuman facility of words when it comes to Scrabble and various anagram word games, inspiring me to brush up on my Literati ranking. (Did you know that “claimed” as two anagrams? Go ahead and try to find out what they are — it’s not easy!) All of my relatives have also been thoroughly impressed with his handle of Korean language and customs, including but not limited to pouring soju for elders using two hands and understanding the difference between the two ways of saying goodbye (one is for when the other is leaving you, and another is for when you are leaving them). It’s been an entertaining trip.
Tomorrow, it’s unfortunately our last full day in Seoul, with few confirmed plans save to see Sujin and Min. On Wednesday, we make our way to the DMZ to corroborate ourselves North Korea’s plans for nuclear domination, and on Thursday morning we return to San Francisco via an uncomfortably long layover in Narita. (By the way, has anyone ever attempted a quick Tokyo jaunt from the airport? How long does it take in total?)
Meanwhile, I continue to reflect on and process not only what’s happened to me in the past few weeks (graduation! goodbyes! relationship!) but also in the past two years. I think about the amazing folks I’ve been so blessed to have met, traveled with, and befriended, and I strive to make progress on my seemingly unending list of thank you notes to write and send. I am, refreshingly, quite optimistic for the experiences to come, from a summer of Turkish delights and Eurasian travels, to the much anticipated migration to London. I also want to return to a few activities I was much better about pre-GSB, including writing more, designing things, and finding that (next) perfect song. It’s good! This is it! Endings do me over, but usually in a really good way.
For now, I hope that everyone is doing well and enjoying the summer days. I am looking forward to staying in touch, visiting folks, and realizing what an indelible mark my time in business school has made on me. Here’s to the summer, and to everything that shall follow.
