Kevin's Uncomprehensive Guide to Life in Korea part One!

In less than a week, I will leave South Korea where I’ve spent the last two years teaching English, exploring the countryside and trying to comprehend the locals as best I can.

So, before I say 안녕 to Korea forever, I thought I’d make a list of the most important things I think a foreigner ought to do while here. To all those considering teaching here, or to those just starting their contracts, or even to those who think they’ve got this place pegged, have a listen.

Learn the Language

You’re right, learning Korean is not necessary to living in Seoul. Korean grammar is very difficult and enough locals speak rudimentary English or better that one can go a whole year without so much as an 안녕하세요. Even though you’ll likely never use it again outside of Korea, learning the language can be very rewarding.

First, it’s valuable for its own sake. Learning any foreign language allows you to better understand your own, and this has practical implications for teachers. You can compare English to Korean, pinpointing mispronunciation and grammar mistakes, and most importantly, sympathize with your young pupils for studying a language that is so vastly different from what they’re used to.

I don’t see how anyone can say they understand a culture without attempting to speak its words. Language is a vehicle for customs, for social hierarchy, for attitudes, and well, everything. Unlike western languages, Korean expressions change form depending on the age, status, and gender of the listener. When you study, you get a glimpse of how and why Koreans act the ways they do.

If that’s not enough, there are social benefits. As any foreigner who knows at least five Korean words could attest, locals (well, not old people but I’ll get to that) are easily impressed with any attempts to speak their words. It’s indispensable to making friends, particularly girly-friends (I’ll get to that too). With smiles and modesty, your butchering of Korean will go over well.

Last of all, there are the obvious practical uses. English becomes far less common when you leave Seoul (and for the love of ham, do leave Seoul as often as you can). Getting directions, hitchhiking, arranging accommodation and meals all demand a dash of Korean, and you’ll feel proud of yourself when you are at least partially understood.

Now that I’ve proved to you why you must study Korean, the question is, how? There is a slue of Korean books available; I hear Yonsei’s is the best, but I’m partial to my Lonely Planet phrasebook. For me, the best way to learn has been to simply listen to everything people say. Korean is a hopelessly repetitive language. If it’s cold, you say “choo-ah,” if it’s hot you say “tuh-ah,” and for pretty much every other emotion from surprise, anger to constipation, you say “jinn-jah.” As a homogeneous country, Koreans tend to use the same expressions with less creativity than we’d expect back home. It gets annoying, but simply listening to locals allows you to learn quickly. For a deeper understanding, I’d recommend a language exchange or even enrolling in an academy to study. Just so long as you’re learning.

Up next…hiking!

U of Me

So, if you haven’t heard, I’ve been accepted to the School of Information at the University of Michigan. I was pretty excited at the prospect prior to my acceptance, but my feelings have since diminished to indifference and lately, to reluctance.
It’s mostly the price tag. Because of my current residence abroad, U of M has me branded as out-of-state, doubling tuition. I intend to file for Michigan residency soon, though even then—the 50k for tuition and fees is intimidating. I’ve managed to squirrel away a healthy sum in my two years in Korea. It’s comforting to know that whatever I do, that money is there. It’s more than I’ve ever had in my life, and if there’s one thing my dad taught me it’s to be frugal. I realize that school is an investment but I’m not even sure if this is the right step for me. What if I’m not cut out to be an IT professional? What if I can’t hack it as a grad student? What if the other kids don’t like me?

I’m keenly aware of general criticisms of graduate school. I know people who have studied for two years, dug themselves deep into debt, only to return to Korea for another contract or work in a coffee shop / Border’s / a library at home. This is precisely why I shrugged my English-Sociology degree and chose a semi-technical program with a high job placement rate.

Then there’s the fact that the School of Information has one of the highest applicant acceptance rates of any grad program at U of M. I recognize how competitive some of the other programs are, like law and medicine, which are some of the best in the country. I suppose what it really comes down to—and here comes a pathetic statement—I question the quality of an institution that accepts an average bloke like me. Now I know what you’re saying, and that’s either “You’re not average! You’re super awesome!” or “I have no idea who you are, but you sound depressingly mediocre to me.” Toss the international experience, and on paper, I’m just another white male in his mid-20s trying to save the world.

Then there’s the question that you’re asking and I ask myself all the time, and that’s “What the crap is the School of Information?? Do you wanna be a librarian??” No, librarianship doesn’t interest me as a vocation. SI, as I understand, studies the digitization, transmission, presentation and accessibility of all information, from stupid blogs like this one to scholarly sources. SI offers nine specializations including librarianship and another one called Social Computing that’s concerned with the study of sites like Facebook. No, really. From the outset, it appears SI is a watered-downed version of computer science, blending humanities with information technology. It appeals to my liberal arts / watered-down background.

Then there’s the much larger, more personal obstacle that has nothing to do with SI or U of M. My roots have begun to take hold in Asia. I am, despite my idiotic boss, unfulfilling job, lack of friends and mounting disdain for the culture, quite comfortable here. Three and half years spent anywhere is bound to change a person, and anyone who’s spent even a few months abroad knows what I’m talking about. Asia empowers the average white man. Walk anywhere in Seoul and you’ll see greasy obese honkeys walking with stunningly beautiful Korean girls. Wherever a honkey goes here, he’s noticed and often accorded special respect. Honkeys make friends easily, stand out and are recognized for being different. I admit this is an attractive notion to me. I’m an experienced imperialist, and as such I understand the correlation between the time a foreigner spends in Asia and a foreigner’s self-doubt. The longer one lives here, the more evident their insecurity becomes. It’s the “push-pull” factor I’ve mentioned so many times before. Expats might be initially pulled to Korea by the thrill of travel or a chance to pay off student loans, but eventually they are pushed to Korea by a desire to feel more attractive, interesting and skilled than they are perceived in their home countries. I think of these things as I consider working in Japan for a year.

Yet, I am compelled to live in the real world, whatever that is. U of M seems like a ticket there, and although I have only a vague idea of what I want to achieve, more people than not tell me that grad school is good. Honestly, I don’t really miss home, miss people or even Pillsbury cookie dough any more. I cannot miss what I seek because I’ve never had it, and that’s vision. I’m hoping that school will show me what I want, or at least, what I don’t want. So here’s hoping.

Of Ahjosshis

An ahjohsshi, simply put, is any married Korean man ages 30+; it's a huge demographic to be sure, yet in a Neo-Confucian society such as South Korea groups retain more homogeneity than in the west. This is of course a generalization, but after three years of living here, you have to take my word when I say that ahjohsshis are often unruly and aggressive. Rather than define them sociologically like this blogger so eloquently does, I'll offer an anecdote to better outline the behavior of this peculiar creature.

So, while at dinner munching on some pig feet with Korean, Chinese and American friends (I’m so international), an ahjosshi sitting at a table next to us got up to use the bathroom. Now, we were all sitting Indian-style in a cramped restaurant and as the ahjosshi bumped my friends to get through, my Korean friend said, “Please excuse him.” I chuckled although I can’t remember why. When the ahjosshi returned he glared at us for a few minutes and then spouted Korean expletives. Having taught foul-mouthed Korean teenagers before, I had a good idea of what he said and translated it to my Chinese and American friends. The ahjosshi thought I was directing this translation at him and demanded that I speak to him in his language. As he spoke the man’s friend restrained him from approaching us. I kept eating while my Korean friend tried to put the man at ease. He couldn’t, and after several heated attempts my Korean friend was asked outside to talk it over. This was a rather tense moment for all of us as we sat wondering what was happening. My friend returned a bit later and said the matter had been settled. Apparently the ahjosshi thought I had laughed at him earlier and that caused the offense.

Now, it’s difficult to give you a full picture of ahjosshis without sounding overly critical, racist, or even silly. Like so many observations abroad, it must be experienced. Admittedly, this incident is extremely minor compared to other stories I’ve heard, but I think it indicates something very troubling about Korea.

Most westerners are aware of the eastern concept of face, that showing respect—even disingenuously—is key to social discourse. For instance, everything said in Korean has several variations according to the age, title and gender of the person being spoken to. Communication is often vague as direct statements can carry disrespect, especially when spoken to someone of a higher position. This is important to remember when a foreigner is involved and cannot speak formally. In this situation, I didn’t apologize or even return his slurs. Like in past affronts by ahjosshis, I chose silence, and that seems to piss them off all the more.

The second element to consider is the natural habitat of the ahjosshi, which is primarily the office, the bar, and the home to sleep, though the last location varies. Koreans work feverishly, from the early morning to well into the evening, with long commutes in Seoul. Work outings to bars and restaurants are expected and routine events (they even have a special word for it: wae-shik), where men are pressured by their superiors to drink excessively. In the pig foot restaurant, every ahjosshi drank and shouted, belched and passed out. My Korean friend said after his meeting with the ahjosshi that the man was not drunk. I find this hard to believe given the circumstances. Alcohol, as we all know, amplifies emotions and exposes hidden sentiments. Face or no face, the ahjosshi may have not reacted so inappropriately if he weren’t under the influence of soju (rice liquor) or more potently, his culture.

The last factor and the most difficult to interpret is my part in the equation, the presence of a foreigner. Most foreigners in Korea have very set opinions of how they are perceived by locals, and you can probably get a sense of how I feel from this post. Many expats point to Korea’s xenophobia stemming from centuries of occupation and destruction from neighboring countries. It is my view that these events have given Koreans an inferiority complex, or an intense desire to show the rest of the world that they matter. This complex breeds nationalism and may have affected our ahjosshi into thinking he had something to prove to me as a foreigner when I caused him offense.

These are all complicated issues that are impossible to clarify in a single post, but I think I’ll revive this blog with some observations. As a Confucian society, group identity and role expectations are much more pervasive here, making Koreans ripe for sociological analysis.

It should be noted that I do not mean to criticize Koreans. Said Korean friend is in fact an ahjosshi and abides by the same expectations. I do not wish to reduce him or this demographic to caricature, but instead offer up my views.Next up, ahjummas? You bet.Boisterous