Reverse Culture Shock, 2

So far I think I've done a pretty good job of speaking the right English words at all the right times... I'll admit, at first it was a little rough. After getting off the plane and nodding at all the stewardesses who wished me a "Merry Christmas" it kind of hit me that I understood what they were saying. And that they would have understood if I had actually responded.

It felt odd joking with the customs officer - in English. It felt odd reading the names and prices of the snacks - in English. It felt odd reading all the directions and signs through the airport - in English. It felt odd talking with the man next to me in the baggage claim - in English. It felt odd hearing the couple next to me talking - in Korean.

In short, the first few days, EVERYTHING felt odd.

Why are there so many tall white people? Why can I read everything..and I really didn't want to understand the conversation that I overheard from the people standing next to me! This green stuff - oh yeah. It's money. It works. Oh, and, um.....food. I know what everything is. In fact, I can predict with 99% accuracy what everything I put in my mouth will taste like before I eat it. Also, why are all the buildings so short and spread out?

Oh yeah. I'm not in Korea any more, Toto.

All-of-a-sudden, the familiar is unfamiliar. Now I have to get used to not getting used to anything. Everything feels the same as when I left. Everything, that is, except me.

Double take. Again.

Driving down the highway in Seoul 3 days after I got to Korea: random speedometer check...80??! Whaat? Oh, right. 80 KILOMETERS per hour. Got it.

Driving down the highway in Madison 6 hours after I got to the US: random roadside thermometer...12??! There's snow everywhere - whaaat? Oh, right. 12 degrees FARENHEIT. Got it.


We're not in Korea anymore, Toto...

Family goes without being said.

Things that make me more excited to be in America.

Driving
Any where I want. Any time I want. Any speed I want. (Sort of.) Any people I want. Any direction I want.

HUGS!!
Koreans don't hug. They tend to be really touch with friends of the same sex. But I can't even begin to say how much more I would like to have one really good hug, then no physical contact for the rest of the encounter than weird hand and arm holding, and no hugs. No hugs! Korea! How do you survive??

Cosmos
Miss my bar. Miss my beer. Korean beer ain't got nothing on Woodchuck cider and Calfkiller. In fact, Korean beer is pretty bad.

Christmas
I've never been into Christmas much, but the deprivation I have experienced here has started to make me a bit dejected. Now, to be clear, I do NOT miss Christmas "music". Or shopping. And especially not shoppers. But the decorations, general jolly atmosphere, cards, cantatas, and lights...and I'm not even going to start on the food. (Until later.)

New clothes
The downside of losing weight is that none of your clothes fit anymore. The downside of doing that in Korea is that they have no thrift or resale shops. I'm tired of looking "frumpy"!!

Working
Not that I particularly loved either of my jobs, but I sure miss having one!

Soft skin
If I go for more than 24 hours without slathering lotion all over my poor body, my skin turns into scales that refuse to peel off. I don't know what kind of lotion the use here, but if I ever come back, I HAVE to find some.

Cooking
Because, I love cooking! So much. I feel so happy every time I do it here. Not...because it always ends with something delicious, but because it ends with something home made, and hand made. By me!

Gym
They have gyms here. Even the ones on campus you have to pay for. and running on a mountain covered with ice just doesn't appeal to me right now...

Art supplies
MY art supplies that is. I want to paint.

FOOD
Where do I even start...
Ok, why is all the food here sweet? I just wanted a plain salty snack.
Eggnog, anyone? Anywhere? Nope.
Pancakes. They eat waffles here, covered in more sugar. Not exactly my cup of tea.
Eggs. I used to eat eggs every day! I could probably count how many I've had since I got here.
Yogurt. Not peach yogurt that makes me sick. Not strawberry yogurt - I don't like strawberry yogurt... Not yogurt with random chocolate cereal mix-ins. Just - freakin yogurt!
Frozen yogurt. Because ice cream is overrated. And Bingsu costs more than dinner.
Sweet&Sour chicken. Because they don't eat sour food here. Ever.
Sour gummy worms. See above.
Tortillas. And all other foods Mexican.
Bagels. And cream cheese. Because I love me some bagels and cream cheese!
FRUIT!!!!!! 1000x fruit! Because I can't afford to spend 3$ for 5 apples every week. Not to mention that at that rate I'd probably have eaten all the apples in Korea by the beginning of October.
VEGETABLES!!!!!!!! Because apparently kimchi supplies all the nutrients that all of ours provide put together. Maybe it's a fruit too, who knows...
Raisins. Oh my! I've loved raisins for so long. Now we can finally be together again.
Nuts. One small can of peanuts here: $7. You want mixed nuts? Try $12.
Non-fried chicken. Why is fried chicken so popular here? Why do you have to fry the poor chicken before you cover it in some kind of sweetish sauce?
Muffins. Because muffins here are always dry. *tears**more tears* I love muffins so much...
Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin anything!! Because I missed fall. And because...pumpkin.
Chicken soup. Because being sick here makes me want to eat chicken soup every day for the rest of my life.

Reverse Culture Shock, 1

Before coming here my study abroad adviser mentioned that after returning from a year in Spain she experienced some "Reverse Culture Shock". And that I should be prepared to experience at least a mild case of it.

Since then I've been pondering what all would be involved with this so-called reverse culture shock. Is it something I should worry about or try to prepare myself for? Earlier this week I had a conversation about it with a few of the other exchange students. I now have some new thoughts to mull over.

Among other challenges that I am sure I cannot anticipate, I have realized that this experienced has changed me in ways that I am only beginning to recognize. My view of the US has altered, as has that of the rest of the world. I've experienced things that most of my friends will only ever dream (or worry) about. I've learned how to do things that I will never need to do in the US. My attitude towards many new customs, ideas, and people has become even more open. I've grown used to living in a place where I understand little of my surroundings - and few people can understand me.

In addition to the changed that I have experienced, my friends' lives have continued without me. How can we just pick up where we left off? Four months, while not a long time, can change a lot.

I wonder what I will experience when I get home. I wonder how I will respond to being thrown back into my old life with my new knowledge and perspectives. I wonder if I will feel overwhelmed, sad, lonely, excited, left-out, out-of-place, comfortable, or just nothing.

Waeguking it out

The Korean word "Waeguk" can be loosely translated into English as "foreigner". But only loosely, because if a Korean went to America or Bolivia or France, he or she would still refer to the people there as "Waeguks". Why? Because the Korean people tend to see every other Korean person as an extension of their family, and everyone else as a Waeguk.

It is sometimes used somewhat maliciously, but most often it is just used by Korean people and even Waeguks themselves as a handy label. We refer to ourselves as "Waeguks" when we do things that Koreans find silly or different. We sometimes also like to "play the Waeguk card".... "Oh, I'm sorry - I wasn't supposed to sit there? Ah, well, as you see, I'm a Waeguk, so I didn't know." Uh-huh. It does come in handy at times.

Either way, regardless of where I go, there is never a doubt in anyone's mind as to whether or not I am a Waeguk. I, however, spend most of my time while travelling in Korea, either alone or with Korean friends. Both of which give me a bit of a higher foreigner rating. (We all have those...) So it was very strange on Saturday to walk around in Gangnam - a popular place for Waeguks - with my blond Swedish friend.

First, because I rarely travel with other foreigners. Second, because when I do it's usually with my Hawaiian or my Mexican friend. Third, because neither of us were as "foreign" as we looked...as in, we both know how to read Korean, and we have both spent several months here attempting to learn and adapt to the Korean culture. Forth, because when we used to spend time together in Cookeville, we both blended in quite easily. Fifth, he is married to a Korean girl and therefore also spends little of his time with other Waeguks.

So it was strange, to be with another blond person, looking the full part of Waeguks - travelling together, blond, speaking English, Gangnam, while both of us knew we had a much better understanding of our surroundings than any of the natives surrounding us could've known.

To be continued...

What I miss about America:
driving
radio
beer/cider
everybody using facebook
my professors
fruits/vegetables
soap/toilet paper/paper towels
*cooking
football
heat
*ethnic diversity
*pancakes
*resale/consignment shops

What I don't miss about America:
food
impatient people in restaurants
*(mostly) naked models
*homeless people everywhere
religious/ideological friction

What I will miss about Korea:
*food
public transportation
flowers everywhere
convenience stores
internet
clean/plentiful public restrooms
heated floors
*sharing

What I won't miss about Korea:
people staring at me
*people pumping into me/invading my "personal space"
odorous restrooms
the temperamental weather
sexism

Found in translation: "Cheer up!"

Has anyone ever said anything inconsiderate to you? The kind of thing that the more you think about it, the more inappropriate it seems... Part of you wants to give them a good smack, part of you wants to give them a piece of your mind, and part of you just shakes its head and walks away thinking, "See if I ever try talking with you again!"

Now, what if the comment was meant 100% sincerely, and the speaker had no idea that their words were hurtful or inappropriate? What if they thought that their words expressed the sympathy and understanding and hope they were honestly feeling?

You might think this is an impossible or at least highly unlikely situation. Think again.

When I say, in English, "It's good." I usually mean it in something of a flippant manner when someone makes a small mistake and says, "Oh, my bad." Or I use it to mean seriously that something looks, smells, sounds, or tastes good. However, when speaking with a native Spanish speaker (all the ones I know are from Mexico/Central/South America) I can use the direct translation, "Està bien." to mean:
"It´s ok."
"It doesn´t matter."
"Are you ok?"
"I am ok."
"It´s going to work out."
"Oh, nevermind."
"That will work."
Very likely, there are more specific ways to say each of those phrases, but as a new speaker of the language, for now, that one phrase will serve many purposes.

But what about "Cheer up!"? When do I use that phase? Usually in a somewhat joking, condescending, or empathetic manner when I think someone is making a big deal out of something small. So when my Korean friends began saying it to me during the week my Grandpa passed away, my initial reaction was one of surprise and indignation. "Who says that?! How can you tell me to cheer up when this is obviously such a painful and lonely time for me??"

But looking past the words, knowing my friends care for me and would never act flippantly at such a time, I tried to see what was being lost in the translation. I asked my suite mate, Umi, about the Korean translation for "Cheer up." Her eyes lit up and she replied quickly, "힘내!" ("heem-nae") Obviously, in their culture "힝내" has very different connotations than our expression "Cheer up." In their minds, they were communicating the sympathy and understanding and hope they were honestly feeling.

I always wonder how many times this happens and I just have no idea how much is lost in the translation.

Fortunately, this story has a happy ending: I found a good (and very easy!) way to express the sympathy, understanding, and hope I feel when my friends are feeling down!

Run-in with Racism?

My Mexican suitemate, Dyanna, and I had just finished our meal at the cafeteria in the Chinese dorm. We walked over to the window to bring our dishes back, deposited the chops sticks in the first receptacle, the food scraps in the next, and then neatly stacked our trays and bowls and tried to balance them on the messy pile of trays and bowls already in the window. The annoyed-looking worker walked over to help us stack them so they wouldn't fall, and in the process uncovered a tray that had not been cleaned. In irate Korean she yelled at us and waved the dirty chop sticks attempting to get it through our thick skulls that we were supposed to put the chop sticks somewhere else. A look of disbelieving scorn crept into my face, as Dyanna, looking like a deer-in-the-headlights, took the dirty chop sticks and deposited them in the proper container.

Really? Wasn't it obvious that I was holding two trays - mine and Dyanna's? Do you really think that one of us would have emptied our tray correctly and the other wouldn't have? Or do you just assume that we are lazy because we are foreigners? Possibly.

I will never know, and really, it doesn't matter.

It's things like this that matter...

Walking back up the hill from the Seoguram Grotto when a little girl, probably barely able to say hello in Korean, saw me, pointed while her face lit up and she exclaimed, "Oah! HI!"

Made my day.

Imagine (a cover, of course)

...a place where you hail a taxi by walking out into the road - hopefully no further than the second lane - with all your luggage and hope someone slows down long enough for you to jump in. And you're lucky because 6 other groups of people were doing the same thing.

...a place where you are on a subway and your car has 30 people around age 21. One is looking around, 2 are looking intently at each other, 3 are sleeping, and the rest are silently and intently doing something-or-other on a smart Phone. Guess which one is you...!

...a place where you stand and wait and then run to cross a 15-foot-wide road, all the while dodging bikers. Riding bicycles. Even a couple bicycles-built-for-two.

...a place where you can't walk without bumping into someone. If you want to go in a direction the person next to you didn't go, you have to push someone out of the way.

...a place where you are standing literally shoulder-to-shoulder with 70 other college students and every time your bus driver takes a curve faster than 5mph all of you lean with the curve. You won't fall, but you have to move with everyone else.

...a place where "American food" is a salad with spaghetti noodles in Italian dressing mixed with red pepper paste.

...a place where you can see only people with dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair; you can hear only words that you don't understand; and you can see only signs that hurt your brain to make the effort of reading.

...a place where only the professionals dance, and everyone sings karaoke.

...a place where the biggest size dress in the whole store is a size US 8.

...a place where couples wear matching shoes, or shirts, or underwear, or glasses, or socks, or rings, or shorts, or anything/everything else and it is considered cute. Only cute.

...a place where you are considered beautiful because your hair is blond and your skin is light.

...a place where you can find a Convenience Store on every corner and they sell the exact same thing: 20 kinds of ramen, 20 kinds of milk, 50 other kinds of drinks, 10 kinds of ice cream, and 1 of everything else from bandaids to gum to condoms to Calorie Balance bars.

...a place where even the locals can't comfortably use the bus system.

...a place where you can take a train, a subway, a taxi, a bus, a cable car, a bike, or your feet for hours and still be in the same city.

...a place where everyone lives in apartment buildings with 20+ floors.

...a place where many people have studied English for approximately 10 years but are still too shy to speak even one word.

...a place where you are considered polite and kind if you greet the natives in their native language when you obviously know English.

...a place where you can wear tight shorts or skirts that barely cover your butt, (you have no hips, so don't worry about those) while if you show your shoulders you are considered risque.

...a place where many girls would rather kill their child (after being born, not before) than be a single mother.

...a place where you can order anything you want from a restaurant and they will bring it to you on the back of their motor bike that they probably rode on the sidewalk and down the lane-dividing line between two big buses to get to you. (Their version of fast food.)

...a place where kissing in public is taboo.

...a place where all girls are pressured to be as skinny as possible, while no one besides themselves and their friends really care. The guys certainly seem to value hair color, eye shape, and huggability more than boniness.

...a place where it is normal to see a fashionable girl wearing socks and tennis shoes with a nice dress or 5 inch heels with ripped up jeans and a (baggy) t-shirt.

...a place where every meal includes rice and 5 or 6 side dishes. Maybe a different type of meat depending on the time of day and your income.

...a place where people carry around those famous Asian fans and use them.

...a place where there are no junkers, even the old people have smart phones, everything sparkles, and the plumbing is too old to handle toilet paper - that's what trash cans are for, right?

...a place where foreigners get discounts.

...a place where you can go into a subway station and go down 6 floors before you walk another quarter of a mile to find your train. Don't forget you passed about 5 coffee places and 6 Convenience Stores by now.

...a place where 2 blocks from the hottest club strip in one of the largest cities in the world, you can walk down a quiet street past 5 hostels right next to each other.

...a place where it's not rude to bump into people...it's not polite to make eye contact...it's not rude to stare...it's not polite to say "excuse me" or "bless you" - ever...it's not rude to ignore people who talk to you for their job...it's not polite to talk to your friends' parents...it's not rude to smack your lips while eating...it's not polite to use napkins...it's not rude to tell people what to do...it's not polite to wait for other people to get off the subway/elevator before you...it's not rude to cancel or change plans, invade someone's (as long as they are the same sex) "personal space," tell someone they are strange, point out and help fix physical flaws, and finally...

...a place where the idea of correct etiquette while eating is to get the food into your mouth. Eating noodles has never been so easy.

Sensations

I have attained a heightened awareness of several of my senses since arriving here. Each one is constantly being presented with sensations that it has never encountered before which is undeniably disconcerting, but has revealed to me the depth of elasticity that my senses contain.

For instance.

Everywhere I go I hear unfamiliar sounds. Obviously, the language is the most noticeable: vowels that are somewhere in between our vowels, those used in German, and nothing I've ever heard before; consonants that sound like you took a break for air half way thru one sound and then said the second half with the first half of the next. (R-L, anyone?) But then there are more. Such as the elevator talking when you get to each floor. The sound of an engine not slowing down for you. And someone asking you in Korean, "What the **** are you doing?" Oh wait...how did I know that's what she said? Because now that I can't understand the words and the unfamiliar sounds, the tone, urgency, and pitch of the sounds all mean more than they ever have in the past. I hear less, but I hear more at the same time.

The scents are for the most part either very similar or very different. Cars smell like cars. People smell like people. Sewage smells like sewage. Food smells like food - tho I never quite know what to expect. The biggest surprise to this sense is the location I find those familiar scents.

Sights are similar in some ways. I see people, streets, food, cars, signs, clothes, stores, maps, water fountains, trash cans, decorations, cash registers, speedometers, eating utensils, souvenir shops, and even McDonalds. If I stop thinking for a minute I can convince myself that I'm back in America. But look closer... The people are all dark and small with dark hair. The streets are for the cars - they always have the right-of-way. The food is normally unrecognizable. (Don't fall into the trap of thinking it's not...) The cars are almost exclusively Hundais. The signs are in Korean. The clothes all look familiar, but the style is very unique. The stores are all little shops, normally convenience stores that sell everything. The maps are also in Korean. The water fountains are actually just water-bottle-filling stations. The trash cans are all color-coded. The decorations are not "Asian," they are normal. The cash registers read in the 1000's for a cheap meal. Speedometers are measured in kilometers per hour. (I an't explain the astonishment I felt for a split-second when my friend's Mom was driving at 100...Kph. Right.) Eating utensils, well, you can finish that one. Souvenir shops sell everything from hair bows to flags - Korean flags. And good ol' Mickey D's. Finally something I'll recognize, right? Wrong. I have no idea how to say "McDouble" in Korean, let alone to read it. And for the final blow to thinking that the sights predict deep similarities, McDonalds doesn't sell Parfaits here.

Big boo.

This brings me to the sense that normally feels like it's overloaded, numb, or reeling. Don't get me wrong, I like Korean food - much of it is healthy, tasty, creative, and down-right nommy. But imagine with me...you go to your favorite restaurant, you order something you've never ordered before, and it comes out looking like nothing you've ever seen before. So you take a sip of water to steady yourself, but it tastes oddly metallic. *shrug* It's still water, right? Finally you dig in and brave a bite. It's good. You chew, then swallow. Then go for another bite because you liked it. But wait...why did you like it - you can't for the life of you remember what it tasted or even felt like in your mouth. So you take another bite. It's good again. Then you swallow and once again you have no idea what you just ate.

If you've never experienced this before, it's probably almost impossible to understand. But suffice to say that much of the pleasure of eating is the anticipation. After 3 weeks here I am getting better at predicting and remembering hat my food will taste like. And even texture is becoming less of a surprise - tho still a huge factor. Two days after I arrived here, I was given a drink. It looked healthy so I took it. It tasted good too. I drank some and liked it so much that I wanted that taste more and more. But I couldn't bring myself to drink it. Why? Because there were jiggly chunks of something suspended in the somewhat thickened liquid. No matter how many times I told myself that I liked the taste and wanted more, I drank hardly any of it, and it was so strange to my mouth and stomach that it almost made me sick.

Food is, however, the only new texture.

I've realized that I have not only a powerful sense of touch, but one with an incredible memory. I can look at a surface, feel in my head what it will feel like, touch it, and only feel slight differences. Granite feels like granite. Wood feels like wood. Bathroom door latches feel like bathroom door latches. (Although you turn them left to close them here, and right to open. Think about it.) This has turned out to be an immense comfort. Not only do the things I feel feel like home, but because this sense experiences so little that it doesn't remember or can't predict, it holds onto the things that I used to feel at home, but can't feel here...

Sam's hair.
My own pillow and bedding.
The last hugs I got from my siblings.
My car keys.
A quarter.
Cooking utensils.
The way my floor feels under my feet.
Mashed potatoes.
My doorknob.

And the biggest comfort of all, Sam's hands.

Really doing it.

I finally did it! I cannot explain how happy this makes me. But I'll try anyway!

We've had orientation the last couple days and before that we were all just spending time with each other - the other international students. We went out to eat, we wandered around campus, and we traded stories about home and here. But we always stuck together in big groups, and made sure we always had at least one or two students who could speak some Korean. Last night I started realizing how much of an annoyance that is to the employees and owners whose restaurants we invaded. We were loud, we were clueless (which means we were rude), and we were messy. Because...chopsticks... Yea, you get it. So today when we had a break for lunch, my British friend, Peter, sitting next to me turned to me and said, "Where would you like to go?" "Oh, I don't care." So we turned to Mr. Taciturn Aapo from Finland. (I'm not making fun of him. Actually, it is a cultural trait. The Finns have no concept for either small talk or awkward silences. Aapo extremely polite, clever, thoughtful, and humorous. He is also very unlike most Americans.) "I don't really care." So we decided to go into town, without the big group. We walked around, found a random place that had reasonable prices and walked in....

"So, Peter, Aapo, do either of you speak any Korean?" "No." "None at all." "...me neither."

We all looked at each other, smiled. And kept standing there looking at the menu. it seriously looked like chicken scratch with some prices next to it. We found the "rice" section, and then some other words we could pick out, but nothing like a full order.

So Peter pulled out his handy pocket dictionary of common words and phrases and we started trying to match what was on the menu board to what was in the book.

Peter's comment: "We're such tourists."
Aapo's comment: "Are we really doing this...?"

We looked at each other, started grinning, nodded, and walked up to the counter to order.

The girl was polite and patient - we'd only been staring at the menu board for ten minutes...

Peter and Aapo ordered: "An nyeong he seyo." "An nyeong he seyo." "Uh.....*sheepish grin*..... bibimbap?" *emphatic nod and big smile* "Kom sam nida!" (Mumbled, of course, as none of us were quite sure how to *really* say "Thank you!")

And then I ordered, repeating the greeting and asking in my own very timid voice, "Mm, ah...neangmeon?" Again the big smile and emphatic nod and the exchanged thank-you's.

Then it was over. We sat down, looked at each other and smiled because, yes, Aapo, we are really doing it! Hardcore tourist style.

Now you see me

Imagine sitting in a the second row of a large theater with hundreds of other people. Munching on sweet and crisp caramel popcorn while watching the one and only time Morgan Freeman doesn't come out on top in the end. Every once-in-a-while you look ever at your friend and share a laugh or a startled expression. The movie is thoroughly enjoyable. I mean, Morgan Freeman, Mark Ruffalo? Seriously, it has to be good. Even the subtitles at the bottom of the screen can't tarnish the look of this one. Now You See Me was worth every won we paid. Now it's over and we all stand up. Only...what's this? The seat stays down. I pushed on it with my calves, the way I always do when I get up from a theater seat that wants to stick a little. Then I look up and it hits me like the sound wave of what still sounds like gibberish that hits my ears. These seats don't fold up. Those subtitles were Korean. My friend had beautiful brown skin and straight black hair with laughing black eyes; her name is Jinah. I am listening to Korean, surrounded by Korean people, and eating Korean caramel popcorn in the Lotte Cinema in Seoul. Now You See Me, America. Now you don't.