The official arrival of spring is heralded by cherry blossoms here. The petals really do fall like snow when the wind blows hard. It's astonishingly beautiful, even when they fall on hard pavement and dirt. The magnolia trees are blooming also and those flowers are so huge and thick that they look like white and purple leaves. Some places the perfume of the trees is so intense it drowns out the smells of the city. In some spots it coexists with the stench of garbage and poor sanitation. That's incredibly odd but part of life here.
I've found westerners, and though some are lovely, intelligent people, I have a lot of trouble relating to most of them. Work hard, drink hard is the primary method of coping. I read about culture shock and I can report that the non-Koreans are an official ghetto. They congregate in bars on weekends and drink. Some conversations are good, many seem to end up in the same place. We're all profoundly lonely. I suppose the drive to forget your problems through alcohol and meaningless sex is everywhere, but I find it intense here.
Korean is a difficult language, which I believe adds to the sense of isolation, and even people who have been here for years speak only a little. The letters are easy enough, but the pronunciation is quite challenging. My students have been dedicating their time to teaching me numbers, and I can now navigate shopping without pen and paper so they can write down the price.
The sense of not-belonging, of being the one who is different among many who have so much in common is quite difficult some days. I can actually go an entire day without seeing someone of my ethnicity or speaking to someone who speaks my language. It's fascinating and humbling at the same time. I didn't realize what it was like to be the stranger before and I secondguess my own past behavior constantly.
The lengths people will go to to communicate with each other, whether to sell fruit or share a moment are incredibly touching in the best sort of way. I have soju (an incredibly cheap, strong, grain-Vodka like beverage unique to Korea) and seaweed crackers on Thursdays with two old toothless men who live down the street from my house. For some reason, they are always there and they like me to stop on my way home. They speak no English but have very sweet smiles and talk poltiics that I cannot possibly understand with great dignity. Having someone smile at you for no reason whatsoever is the kind of gift that makes the rest of the day gleam a little bit.
I've learned the Korean style of drinking, where you pour the glasses of everyone else first, then someone else pours yours. This is true for everything from soju to tea and is rather nice. Food is very communal here, always, even in restaurants, and I have learned to eat everything, from noodles to salad with chopsticks. I wore much of my food for a long time, but it has gotten easier.
I've found my solace in the mountains. My city is a mass of cement and brick that fills an entire valley. The mountains that surround it are wooded and full of gardens. Every inch of free ground is terraced outward in large plots and everyone seems to understand where theirs starts and ends. The first few times I walked through them, I got strange looks, but now my presence is accepted. It's a very steep climb, and once I'm through the gardens I get into pine trees and odd circular mounds of dirt.
Apparently, each mound is a grave. Some of them hold many family members of many generations but they're all unmarked and in among the trees. I haven't been able to find out how recently any of them have been used, but it's interesting that they're so relaxed about their dead. There are no gates or large ornate headstones, just a mound of earth that could be for picnicking, if one didn't know any better.
Most of the time I am forgiven my trespasses and I smile and wander through. It's turning me introspective to be so independent. There's less cause of pretention, and it can actually be relaxing not to worry about what I'm going to say, or how I will be perceived. The Opal who exists here is different, both through the filter of language, but also of culture.
I spend much time simply listening to the children I teach. So many parts of their lives are so foreign to me, they usually can't wait to tell me about what they're doing. That kind of connection, even through broken English, is one of the highlights of teaching. I can usually make them laugh with bad attempts at Korean, and if I am patient and gentle, they're English improves.
I have learned that much of their shyness comes from fear of making a mistake. One of my older students just lost a cousin, a 16 year-old girl, to suicide because she did not get into the best high school. She was admitted to the second best, but it wasn't good enough. They're under tremendous pressure to succede and telling them they did a good job is not part of their culture. They have a husky dog's mentally when it comes to work. Most of the time, more work is better and they throw themselves into their homework .Middle school students, 12 and 13 year-olds, go to school at 8am, change clothes and go The more I encourage them, the happier they are to work even harder.
I have a lot of leeway so I lean on the side of creative or silly assignments. Even getting them to write me notes about what they had for breakfast is teaching them more English, and for the younger kids, the crazier the assignment, they better.
It's really a gift to have them in class every day. Sometimes I feel unworthy, most days I just try to have fun.
I hope you're well and happy. The people who have touched my life seem so much more important now that I'm more cognizant of my impact on others. One of the parents told me through a translator that her daughter will always remember me. There are a handful of people I will always remember and it's a heavy yet beautiful thought to know on some level I've come full circle. All that made me Opal, has a use after all.
