A Rainy Day in Seoul

This was the view from my seat in the little hole-in-the-wall bibimbap place where I just ate lunch. The seating capacity of the whole place was probably no more than 15, and it was run by two women in their 50's and a similiarly-aged man. You can't see the rain, but it's coming down pretty steadily out there. While eating the spicy melange of rice, egg, sauce, mushrooms, and vegetables was poetry in itself, especially for $4, it wasn't what I'd thought I'd be doing today.

Right now, about 50 students from the summer program I'm attending are at the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) at the border between North and South Korea. I signed up for this field trip earlier this week and even woke up at 8:30 to go, but sadly a miscommunication between myself and my roommate Maria from Hong Kong resulted in me going back to sleep thinking the trip was canceled because of the rain. I woke up a couple hours later and slowly discovered that I'd been left behind. None of my friends or the trip coordinator (who had my cell phone number) had called to ask where I was, which was extremely disappointing. I bought some Skype credits and called my parents to cry and rant to them about how much I'd looked forward to going on this field trip and how angry I was at my friends, the Summer Program office, and myself for inadvertently missing it. The way I saw it, I wasn't really here to go see amusement parks and mud festivals or even to study economics and pop culture - this DMZ trip was supposed to be, in a way, the culmination of my rebirth as a self-aware Korean-American. Having studied Korean modern history this past semester, I had prided myself on feeling worthy of understanding the great cultural and historical significance of the DMZ, a foreign scar splitting a beautiful country into two maverick nations.

I went out to find some bibimbap to stop myself from stewing over all of this, and in the process had some great revelations.

• I am not entitled to anything. Visiting Korea is not my birthright, nor is it something I deserve for being a good student or for feeling disconnected from my cultural heritage. Being here is a gift - just the fact of it - and I should treasure that for its own sake.
• I am here mostly by lucky accident. Corollary to the first one. It is an amazing coincidence that I am who I am in this place at this very moment, and I am utterly grateful for that and all of the people and circumstances that have made this possible. Especially my mom and dad.
  
• Eating bibimbap has just as much value to me as visiting the DMZ. If not more. I know about Korea's involvement in WWII and the hows and whys (generally speaking) of its division by the US and USSR. I understand in a very fact-based way about the consequences of this fatal splice and the political, cultural, and emotional heartache Koreans have had to live with ever since (not to mention the whole Korean War thing). Would seeing a bunch of tanks and a wildlife refuge really have made it more real for me? On the other hand, realizing today that bibimbap is amazing comfort food has enriched me on so many levels: why did I refuse to eat bibimbap in Korean restaurants in the States but love it here? The answer has so much to do with personal identity and cultural context - it's incredible.
• Failures are as fruitful as successes. I have learned much today and am stronger because of it.

I finally figured out where the local e-sports stadium is. I look forward to seeing StarCraft live soon! Lastly, a funny sign:

High Times with Army Boys!

Since it seems more than one person actually enjoys reading my blog, I guess I owe it to all two or three of you (thanks, Peter!) to keep on keepin' on. Zak doesn't count because he gets daily updates on the crazy things that happen to me anyway (sorry Zak ^^). I've also been inspired out of my negligence by Jue and Dave, who both blog about fascinating/hilarious/profound things. Check them out!

Last night I walked around Itaewon, the area around the US Army base in Seoul. My friends Michelle and Jennifer had both been there before (Jennifer's a regular, since her family is military and they live pretty close to there), but it was my first time visiting this miniature oasis of Westernness. Seoul is a pretty cosmopolitan city in general, but this was the first neighborhood within the city I've been to that truly incorporates its KFCs and Coldstone Creameries into its own cultural fabric without seeming self-conscious about it. The three of us first tried to find this Austrian cafe Jennifer knew to have dinner, but after the high prices on the menu discouraged us (although the lovely Austrian maitre d' didn't) we headed over to a cheaper Mexican place nearby.

Michelle	Jennifer
Mmmmm ... chicken quesadilla!	the menu, a conglomeration of Spanish, English, and Korean

The food was relatively expensive and had much smaller portions than we were all used to given Mexican food in the States, but it was worth it. I still miss Anna's burritos, but the craving is a little bit more bearable now.

Then we headed over to this bar called Gecko's, and when I stepped inside I thought I'd gone through some kind of portal back to Boston because it was your typical East Coast classy pub. Dark wood all around, comfy high-backed chairs around round tables, darts boards, white men ... very familiar, although there was a noticeably higher percentage of Asian patrons than you'd normally see. Interestingly, I felt very foreign.

We met some nice Army guys training in Military Intelligence - two from Florida and one from Iowa, and all around 20 years old. Smart (but not bookish) guys who liked to laugh, drink beer, and who brimmed with good ol' devil-may-care American bluster. Two of them appreciated Michelle's growing homesickness for her native Seattle and American cable programming while one had ambitions to start up a social networking website and a restaurant in Thailand. They readily shared their pitchers of Cass (gross watery beer) with us and bought us a few other drinks too, since we were a rather attractive trio of expats. The American military doesn't have the best reputation in Korea, but like most of these kinds of situations it seems like a case of a few bad pieces of kimchi spoiling the jar rather than a malaise affecting the whole outfit. I had a lot of fun talking with these guys and learning about their experiences, and was pleasantly surprised when I dropped the H-bomb (revealed that I'm a Harvard student) and they weren't put off. Stop holding your breath, Dad - nothing untoward happened, and after a while the three of us were on our way back to Jennifer's house to spend the night.

Overall, I liked Itaewon's uniqueness and startling diversity of ethnic foods, as well as the perspectives of the expat population there, but it wouldn't be a place I would want to hang out in all the time. I like Korea for what it is, and being in Itaewon reminds me too much of what it isn't (namely, America). If I ever get sick of Koreans and academics, though, I know where to go to get some Taco Bell.

It's Friday morning right now and I'm getting ready to go on one of this program's most anticipated field trips: the Boryeong Mud Festival! I've never been covered in mud before (well, not for fun/therapeutic purposes), so I'm really excited about this trip. I'll bring my camera!

Finally, here's a funny sign from a clothing shop in Itaewon: