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:
