Upon Landing in Tokyo

My first day in Tokyo has been eye opening.  It is such a fascinating place, and the Japanese are such fascinating people.  

Just like my previous visit to Japan, the moment I got off the plane, and made it through customs, I came to a stunning realization that I am no longer in Korea, and I immediately felt like an outsider.  This time, I expected it, but sometimes, when things are so different than what you are accustomed to, expectation doesn’t adequately prepare you for what you experience.  

During the flight, I was rather tense, because it was to land at 11pm, and I researched the subway system to learn that the last train at the airport departed at 11:50.  I did not feel like trying to get a bus, because of the price, and my lack of knowledge of Tokyo.  I knew that determining the correct bus to take, while working through a language barrier would be difficult.   And neither did I feel like taking a taxi, which on top of all that I mentioned about taking a bus,  would have been extremely expensive, a lot more so than in Korea.  By far, the easiest directions that I received were via the subway, and even that was a little daunting.

Before leaving, I seriously asked my christian friends to pray for me while traveling.  I felt like it would take a miracle for me to make it through customs on time (first world problems). 

I received a tip from a good friend of mine, Greg, an experienced traveller, who explained, when in a hurry to be somewhere upon landing, request a seat in the front of the plane, which is what I did, which resulted in the pretty Korean lady working the check-in for Asiana Airlines informing me with a smile that that is where I would be sitting.  

Through all the tense feelings, I was able to receive a window seat, and I was taken aback by how enormous Haneda Airport was.  What stood out was an enormous neon sign on the building that read, “Tokyo International Airport.”  The building itself looked massive under the night sky, and what also stood out was through the windows on it, and through the dim lights that shined through them, there was a certain calmness in how the small silhouettes of the people were moving.  The airport certainly reflected the personality of the nation it represented.  I had a moment of calmness as I was observing it through the window of the plane, as we were taxing to the terminal.

The plane was fifteen minutes late landing, apparently because it was a busy day for the airline industry in Japan.  At that point, I felt like there was no way I would get through, but I was going to try anyway, because miracles do happen.  I had friends who said prayers for me, after all.  The Japanese friends that I made on the plane also urged me to go as fast as possible as we said our goodbyes, and they made a way for me to be one of the first people out of the plane, but to make matters worse, I had to take a shuttle bus to customs, and I ended up sitting next to them, after thinking I would have been far ahead of them.  

Customs was excruciatingly slow, as always, but as I always do, I completely filled out my customs and entrance cards on the plane, and a Japanese official checking them noticed that I did, so he directed me to an express line.  My bag was one of the first out of baggage check, and I made it through rather quickly.  Still, I was thinking there would be no way that I would be able to hop on the train on time.

I noticed that the tracks were rather close to the exit at customs, and that people were racing to them, so I began to do the same.  I noticed a nice-looking older Japanese couple enter an elevator to the tracks, so I quickly jumped in with them.  As soon as the door opened, there was the train.  I thought, “Thank God.  I made it.”  

The Tokyo subway system is a lot more complex than that of Seoul, and the guest house was rather far from the airport, so still I was tense.  The moment I entered the train, I was hit rather hard by the fact that I was an outsider in an extremely unfamiliar place.  I know absolutely exactly two words of Japanese, and that is “Konichiwa, (hello)” and “Arigato Kojaimas (Thank you very much).”   I can read absolutely zero Japanese, and I know very little about the culture, so when I entered a train filled with Japanese people with no Koreans in sight, I realized that I was the only westerner around, so the intense feelings grew.  

But during that subway ride, which was above ground, I was immediately taken aback by the neighborhoods that were visible.  I saw houses which were really close to each other with dimly lit lights on streets that looked uniquely Japanese, even at eleven o'clock at night.  I was able to make out a graveyard in the dark, and if you’ve never seen one, they are rather different and interesting, and they have a certain beauty to them.  And once again, I noticed a certain calmness and serenity in the dim lights of the houses, and neighborhoods, to a greater degree than that of the airport.  

My only thought was to make sure I was going the right way, and in a trip that had two transfers, I was really worried about taking the right train, which at the second transfer, I failed to do.  I immediately realized it after the first stop, so I immediately exited.  After doing so, I realized I exited the last train of the evening.  I refused to pay the high cab fare to get where I had to go, so that was out of the question. I quickly decided to take my chances, and walk away from the subway station until I found a hotel to stay at for the evening.  Needless to say, the tense feelings didn’t go away.  

I didn’t have to walk far until I found a hotel that was beyond what I had expected, better than any of the places I reserved, and wasn’t that much more expensive.  I really believe those prayers helped. 

Again, I stated that I am a total outsider here, and I have embraced it.  The only time I’ve ever felt this way in my life was during my previous visit to Japan.

In America, we have chosen a particular word to coin an entire group of people who have black hair, white skin, and small eyes who are either from east Asia, or are descendants of people from there.  We call them “Asian.”  Sure the Japanese, Koreans, and the Chinese are “Asian,” but I am starting to dislike that moniker, because the only things that are remotely similar about Korean, Japanese, and even Chinese cultures are some of their physical features, and the fact that they use chopsticks.  

Koreans, the Japanese, the Chinese, among all of the other cultures that are are associated with the moniker are so vastly different, that they are each races in and of themselves.  And even among what is seemingly similar, they have minor nuances that make them totally different.  I propose that people should stop saying, "I'm Asian," and go back to saying, "I'm Chinese/Japanese/Korean/Veitnamese/etc."  White people may not understand the differences in the cultures, but that doesn't matter, because that doesn't change the fact that they each is vastly different from the other.  

More on that in a later post, but my point is that Korean and Japanese culture are totally different.  And the even bigger point is when I came to Japan for the first time over a year ago, I thought I could identify with Japanese people in the same way I sort of do in Korea, because I had the American mindset that we are all “Asian,” but that is not at all the case.  For me, being there is like being a dog in a world full of cats.  The cultures are totally different, and I have absolutely no basis of identification with them. 

With that being said, I am excited to be here.  I am blessed, and I look forward to sharing more with you in the next post, which should be soon.  Here’s to a great stay in Tokyo, and stay tuned for more.  

Uncertainty

I have an unexplainable pit in my stomach.  It is difficult to describe, but it isn't one of ominousness.  It seems to stem more from uncertainty.  To be honest, this isn't the first time that I've felt it.  I guess the only way I can explain it is by explaining the times I've had it before.

It reminds me of every time I checked in for my flight at Louis Armstrong International Airport, near New Orleans to fly out to Korea.  I remember embracing my father at 5:30 in the morning, before my 6:30 flight departed, as I just checked in, knowing it was time to walk through security, and enter the terminal.  I was always excited, somewhat somber, and filled with an awareness of the uncertainty ahead of me.

Terminals are essentially large well-lit hallways.  And as I walked through it, I remember that feeling as I found myself feeling alone once again.

I felt it as I got off the bus at Gwangju for the first time at the the bus terminal, known as "USquare" to locals.  After living in Korea for three years, it looks rather normal now, but when I arrived, it had such an unfamiliar smell.  Its colors were unfamiliar.  It also had an unfamiliar vibe.  The internet on my ipod touch didn't work.  My boss wasn't where he said he would be.  That pit of uncertainty began to grow, as I began to wonder, "What am I doing here?"  He turned out to be late, which was ok.

It continued during that same day when I walked into my apartment for the first time, and I noticed how dirty it was.  I couldn't sleep that night until it was clean enough for me to take a shower in the bathroom.  I had that pit of uncertainty in my stomach the first time I walked into it.  I thought to myself, "What have I gotten myself into?"

For some reason, as I sit here writing at 2am on a Wednesday night in my clean comfortable new apartment, I am feeling that familiar pit of uncertainty, and I am attempting to figure out why, hoping that writing would allow me to feel a greater understanding of the reason.  Maybe it's because my now ex-girlfriend and I recently broke up, which is a strong source of uncertainty and change.  Maybe it's because I'm flying out to Tokyo this week.  I seem to feel that feeling most often in airports.  Maybe it's a combination of the two, and maybe they are connected.

It's kind of funny how I've been so busy in Seoul that I haven't even thought about taking a vacation until recently.  It's kind of funny how just as I broke up with my girlfriend, unbeknownst to the GEPIK teacher at my school, whom I recently befriended, he starts telling me how awesome Tokyo is, being that I have always been so interested in Japan, which at the time, was also unbeknownst to him.  After hearing him talk about it, I suddenly got the urge to fly there as soon as possible.  I love living here in Seoul, but I need a break.

And people ask, "Why Tokyo?  It's even bigger, and more bustling than Seoul."  I agree, and I won't dispute that.  But I believe fulfilling a dream can be a source of healing.  It can be a source of rejuvenation.  It can be a source of strength.  And visiting Tokyo has been a dream of mine, albeit a small one.

There is some uncertainty associated with the trip, but that is what makes it exciting.  I associate uncertainty with excitement for the future.  What will happen now that I'm a bachelor?  What will the next lady I date be like?  What will Tokyo be like?  What will I experience there?  What will I see?  What will I eat?  How will I travel?  Who will I meet?  Will I enjoy my time there?  Will I enjoy seeing that which is new and unfamiliar, because sometimes the unfamiliar can be rather unpleasant.  There is so much uncertainty happening currently.  Even though it is small, it is unmistakeable nonetheless.  

I am an eternal optimist, and to people like me, uncertainty breeds excitement.  Every time I've had that pit of uncertainty, good things have happened.  I may have been alone and uncertain for a short time, but God put wonderful friends in my life, and he provided me with wonderful places to work, to teach some great people.  He has provided me with wonderful places to live that are beyond anything that I could have imagined.

I've learned to embrace this pit with excitement.  I am excited about the future, and it starts with being single again as I heal from the wounds of my previous relationship, and it will continue very soon with a trip to Tokyo, as I fulfill a small, but hopefully significant dream.  It's exciting.

Stay tuned. Hopefully, I can send you a post on location soon.

I would like take this opportunity to send everybody who reads my blog a sincere thanks.  I have been in Korea for three years now, and the people who visit my site has grown significantly during that time.  I am suddenly feeling at a loss for words, and all I can think of saying is that I am humbled that many of you would take an interest in my life.  God bless all of you.

About "Differences in Korean and Japanese Women"

When I first moved to Korea, I wrote a post entitled, Differences in Korean and Japanese Women.  It is by far my most popular post, and the biggest reason why my site gets as many hits as it does.  To be honest, I'm kind of blown away by that, being that it was inspired by a simple Christmas shopping trip to Myeongdong.

Please keep in mind that it was written two and a half years ago, and styles change.  I'm not saying that it is currently completely irrelevant, because it isn't yet, but I find that it is becoming less so as time passes.

I have a trip to Tokyo planned in the near future.  Hopefully, that can shed more light on the subject, so I can prepare a more current post.  Thank you for reading.    

Dating in Korea III: My Personal Experience

I have a confession to make.  This may sound shallow, but the biggest reason why I became fascinated with, and eventually came to Korea is because I became attracted to Korean women.

Deep down, aren't ladies the biggest motivation behind why any man does anything of significance?  You ask most of the great guitarists, and singer/songwriters of all time, and they all say the reason they learned to play the guitar and/or sing was to impress the ladies.  According to the movie, The Social Network, a lady was a huge motivation behind Mark Zuckerberg's creation of Facebook.  The infamous war between the Athenians and the Trojans, where the wooden horse was rolled out, was fought over a beautiful woman, Helen of Troy.

During my three years in Korea, I've had three girlfriends, all of them being Korean.  The first one was Tae Hee, whom I wrote about in previous posts.  I remember our inherent chemistry being so strong that she had a really difficult time speaking a coherent sentence in English, and I knew absolutely no Korean at the time, but despite that, we were able to laugh a lot, have an amazing time together, and really enjoy each other's company.  It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life.  I learned during that time that we humans have a means of communication that is every bit as strong as the respective languages we speak verbally, and that is attraction, kindness, affection, and care.

Tae Hee was gorgeous.  She had long thick flowing black hair, and she sort of curled the bottom of her hair with one large curl, the way many Korean ladies do.  Her skin was extremely fair, and she did not have double eyelids (larger eyes) that many Korean ladies desire, and get plastic surgery to acquire, meaning that her face looked distinctly Asian, almost like the women you see in those ancient paintings.  She had such an infectious Korean laugh, and she was socially poised.  She was well-dressed, extremely elegant, and as feminine as they come.  We dated for around nine months, and I don't think I was ever more infatuated with a woman than I was with her, which was why I was so devastated when we broke up.  It wasn't because of the lack of language.  Actually, she made such a strong effort.

I remember riding in her car with her, and although she was a music lover, she would have English tapes playing over her sound system.  The kind many of us have heard where a generic monotone American woman's voice would say random statements, and the user was supposed to repeat them aloud, and Taehee would do just that.  It was really cute.  She put a lot of effort into it, and I admired her for that.  The voice would say statements like, "I really love cucumbers."

And she would repeat in a strong Korean accent, "I really love cucumbers."

"I found this great shopping site online."

Again she would repeat in her cute, but strong Korean accent, "I found this great shopping site online."

In the generic monotone American woman's voice, "That is absolutely disgusting."

In a Korean accent with her voice cracking trying not to laugh, "That is absolutely disgusting." And as she repeated, she would point at me, then laugh really hard in her laugh that was so Korean and so infectious.

She was a lot of fun to be around.  She would do these impressions of me, and I still laugh whenever I think about them.

Anyways, and again, we didn't break up because of the language barrier.  We broke up because the difference in our beliefs.  When I knew our relationship was over, I was devastated, although I tried not to be.  Like many men, I tried to hide it, even from myself.  I would still see her sometimes, and when I would, it would be so difficult.

My most recent girlfriend, Boyeong, was the daughter of a Korean pastor.  We were set up by a mutual friend, and we both agreed to meet each other on a blind date at a local cafe.  I had no expectations going into it.  To be honest, I was expecting her to be ugly.

As I was on my way to meet her for the first time, she wrote in a text, "I'm sitting in the corner wearing a green jacket."

Upon walking into the cafe, I looked in the corner at the lady wearing a green jacket, and I was pleasantly surprised to notice that she was very attractive.  She was tall, and slim with a beautiful gracefulness in how she moved.  She also had fair skin, and her face had strong Korean features, but it also had an unexplainable beautiful uniqueness to it.  While TaeHee's style was more elegant, Boyoung was more modest and plain, which I really liked also.  

It's kind of funny.  They were seemingly opposites in terms of personalities, personal style, and the way they dressed.  TaeHee was more socially poised, despite her lack of knowledge of English, while Boyeong was more introverted, and socially uncomfortable, despite the fact that her English was fluent.  She lived in Toronto for six years of her life.  Taehee projected an air of maturity around her while Boyeong had sort of an endearing girlishness.  But at the same time, Taehee was a little clumsy and ditzy, while Boyeong had an innate common sense.

With Taehee, I knew that our relationship would not work out when she said, "I trust in Buddha."  Despite that, I was willing to give it a try, because I was so infatuated.  With Boyeong, when she started talking about her beliefs, her family, and how she was raised,  I thought to myself, "In terms of background, this is the type of lady that I am looking for."  

Boyeong, in her introvertedness, sometimes seemed sort of distant and standoffish, but there were numerous moments where I knew she genuinely cared.

One such moment was on my birthday.  Being that she was sort of casual, in terms of style, on that day, she was dressed up, wearing a skirt, and looked amazing.  Until then, I never realized how stunning she looked when she was dressed that way.   Her tall slim figure, and the natural gracefulness in the way she moved really made her look beautiful when dressed up.  

She had a birthday cake in a box from one of the bakeries in one hand, and a large bag containing a gift in the other.  We went out to eat at one of my favorite restaurants in Gwangju, and afterwards, we went to my apartment, which was small by American standards.

I abided strictly by the Korean rule of no shoes allowed inside.  I had no chairs for guests to sit in, so we sat on the floor with our shoes off, and rested the cake on the edge of the bed as if it were a coffee table.  She didn't realize how amazing she looked, sitting on that wooden floor, so elegantly dressed, and lighting the candles on my birthday cake that was on the end of my bed, but I did.  I proceeded to blow out the candles, and she gave me the present.

I removed the wrapping paper, and noticed it was a dark green polo brand sweater.  I was so excited to receive it.

Her voice was feminine, quiet, and unique.  After seeing my face, and noticing that my excitement was genuine, she said in her almost perfect English with a slight Korean and an equally slight Canadian accent, "I can tell you really like Polo."

She was right.  Then we proceeded to have a romantic evening, before it was time for me to take her home.

That relationship didn't work out either.  We simply weren't right for each other, and like Taehee, I have no ill-will towards her, and I wish her the best.

I feel like I am so blessed to experience Korean culture in this manner, to have acquired personal stories and memories about the beautiful people that I've met here.  My relationships are easily my most memorable, and most treasured aspects of Korea that I have experienced, and I will never forget those memories that were made here.  

Seoul: Kind of Tiresome, but Still Good

I have been living in Seoul for almost a year now, and I feel like I am becoming more integrated into the culture of the city.  It seems like I am always "on the go," and I'm not accustomed to living life like that, being that I am a Louisiana boy.  Lately, I've been feeling rather fatigued when arriving at my apartment after a full day of work.

Currently, I am holding two jobs.  I am still a full-time elementary school teacher.  I no longer work at my school at Incheon.  I recently got a new job at a school in Anyang, still teaching for the After School Program.  I am also teaching business English near Gangnam in the mornings, a job that I started recently.  (It's legal.  I have an F-4 visa.)  Holding two jobs can be a lot of work, and can be tiresome, but nonetheless, it is rewarding, and I am loving what I am doing.

Regarding my business English job in the mornings, I am the personal English teacher of a CFO of a company here in Korea.  Many times, I am self-conscious, and am wondering whether or not I am doing a good job, but recently, she gave me a compliment that I really enjoyed receiving.  She has a really large vocabulary, and her grammar mistakes are minor.  She just needs more confidence in her ability, and my objective as her teacher is to instill that.  She asked me in a Korean accent, and in the careful thought out manner that she normally speaks in, "Have you ever considered teaching as a volunteer for orphans, or the poor?  ...  Because you are a very good teacher."

I was especially happy to hear that, considering, lately, I have been feeling overwhelmed.  I live over an hour by subway from my business English job in Gangnam, which is an hour away from my school in Anyang, which is where I go immediately after, and that is an hour away from my home in southwestern Seoul, and on many nights after work, I have church and social commitments.  On busier days, I am on the subway for over three hours, sometimes more.  On some days, I find myself leaving my apartment at 6:15 in the morning, and returning at around eleven in the evening.

There is something relaxing about being on a train with my headphones on, listening to my favorite music, and flipping pages through an ebook quietly, while standing amongst all the people who are doing the same thing, and all entering and exiting the train, going to and coming from different places as the train regularly stops and goes along the same line that I am on.  There is also something about traveling/commuting, especially when waiting is involved, and especially when it is around so many other people, that induces fatigue upon the body.  And that is my greatest struggle at the moment.

I have made a lot of friends here, as God has really blessed me through my church, Onnuri English Ministry, but many times, I feel a need to sit home and recharge during my off time, instead of being social.  Both of my jobs involve a considerable amount of heavy and close interaction with lots of people, and so does my commuting.  The more I learn about who I am, the more I realize that I am extroverted, but at the same time, even the most extroverted of people need some time alone to recharge.

Lately, since living here, I have reserved my Saturday mornings for relaxing, watching NBA basketball, having a large breakfast, and drinking coffee in my apartment.  I sit, and relax until I am hungry again, then I order delivery.  After that, I usually take a nap, then I wake up, and usually, at around dusk, I am ready to see people again.

On a random weeknight, while winding down from an especially long day, while having my nightly devotional, which includes prayer and daily bible reading, I told God about my jobs, my commute, and my fatigue.  I spilled my heart out to him.  And as I was doing so, I believe he spoke.  I felt it deep within my heart.  He said, "This is preparing you for something else.  Be strong."

I immediately felt invigorated.  I know that I am here for a reason, and despite all of the difficulties, it feels good to be achieving a dream.  It feels good to be living life confidently and successfully, while having to put forth a considerable amount of effort.  And it feels especially good to be living life with a purpose.

Being Half Korean in Korea

I've lived in Seoul for four months now, and it wasn't until I moved here that I gained significant insight on what it's like to be living in Korea as an American of Korean descent.  Generally, there are two types of Koreans from foreign countries living here.  Those who are of a mixed racial background, and those who are full-blooded.  My newly discovered knowledge is a result of living amongst, and interacting with numerous full-blooded Koreans who were born and raised in America and Canada here in Seoul.  Koreans call them "Gyopos."

From my experience, regarding Gyopos, I usually associate the word with Korean-Americans or Korean-Canadians, because they seem to be the most common nationalities that I have come across, and have interacted with.  They also come from numerous other countries.  I've met Korean-Mexicans, Korean-Argentines, Korean-Brits, and even Korean-Brazilians.

Although one of my best friends in Gwangju was a gyopo from San Francisco, it was rather rare to come across them there, so I was rather taken aback by how numerous they are in here in Seoul.

In Gwangju, the Koreans that I grew accustomed to interacting with were the ones who are native to Korea.  These are the Koreans who act Korean (Obviously.  They are from Korea after all.)  These are the Koreans who call me, "Ca-dee-su," instead of calling me "Chris."  These are the Koreans who say, 'Sek-shi,' instead of 'sexy.'  These are the Koreans who say "stu-rain-jee," instead of "strange."  So, at first, it's rather strange (no pun intended) to meet a man who looks Korean, and dresses Korean with a stereotypical  Korean hairstyle, and hear him ask me in a stereotypical American accent and tone of voice, "Do you know where I can get some fish Tacos?"

And it's funny hearing a girl who looks Korean, and dresses Korean with a common Korean hairstyle say in an aggravated tone with a stereotypical American accent, "I'm so over it..."

Many of the gyopos that I've met are like me in that they grew up only knowing English.  A lot of them grew up in multicultural societies such as America or Canada, and had parents who didn't want their kids to be at a disadvantage.   Numerous others were put up for adoption by their biological Korean parents as infants, and were adopted and raised by non-Koreans.

Gyopos come to Korea for numerous different reasons, but when they get here, many of the ones that I've known seemed to have a difficult time adjusting.  Upon arriving, Koreans seem to notice that these people have Korean faces, but they don't dress like a Korean.  Their skin is tan, instead of the preferred fair skin.  They don't have Korean hairstyles.  They don't have Korean mannerisms.  Many Koreans mistake them as Asians from other countries, which, in all actuality, they are.  They are American/Canadian/British/Etc.

Then they eventually manage adjust, but still, they struggle to fit in, because of the language.  Koreans will try to speak Korean to them.  Many of them are unable to answer, and many of those who are able to, do so with an American accent, so the funny looks continue.

On a plane from San Francisco to Seoul, I met a gyopo lady who was a Korean adoptee raised by white parents.  Like me, she grew up trying to fit in with white American society, and one day, became suddenly fascinated with her biological Korean heritage.  She came to Korea excitedly thinking, "I'm going back to the mother land." 

She described how fitting in in Korea was rather difficult, and this is how she described her predicament, "Since I look Korean, a Korean person will look at me, and automatically expect me to know how to speak Korean.  Once they speak to me, and realize that I can't, they look at me like, 'Who is this idiot?'"

I, on the other hand, being half-Korean and half-white have it rather easy.  I look white.  I dress white.  I have a white American hair style.  I act like a white guy.  Naturally, Koreans don't see me as a Korean.  In terms of first impressions, they see me as a white American.

I'll never forget this.  Back when I was a boy back home in America, one of my mother's Korean friends told me, "Chris, you don't look Korean.  You look more like a Mexican."  My feelings weren't hurt, but I was taken aback.  Around my mother's Korean friends, I wanted to look like and be a Korean.

My Korean is rather unsatisfactory, and when Koreans hear my feeble attempt to speak, they don't give me the same strange looks that they give full-blooded gyopos.  With me, they give me a big smile, and sometimes laugh, and say in a strong Korean accent, "Oooooh!  Very good!!"

I realize that I don't speak Korean well.  I only know 'survival Korean,' and I don't consider that to be "very good."

Usually, being that I am an American, I am able to set a strong first impression among Koreans, so when I tell them, "Naneun omaga Hanguk saram imnida (My mother is Korean)," they are usually really surprised.  Some of them brush it off, and act like I am this American who can recite a sentence in Korean without actually knowing what it means, because I couldn't possibly have Korean blood, because I don't look Korean.  But when it actually registers in their minds that I am indeed of Korean heritage, their opinion of me almost always increases favorably, because now they sort of see me as one of them.  The favorable impressions will probably be stronger when I learn Korean.

I've accepted the fact that Koreans see me as an American, but sometimes it annoys me when the Korean waiter at a restaurant goes to the kitchen to bring me a fork.

The longer I am in Korea, the more American I feel.  After all, it's only natural, because I am one.  I mentioned in a previous post that before coming to Korea, I would have cheered for Korea, if Korea was playing America in a sporting event, or if a Korean was in direct competition with an American in the Olympics.  Now, I unabashedly cheer for the American.

Still, I am half Korean.  I've heard American friends talk about numerous things that Koreans do that drive them crazy, and because of that, I've found myself being rather critical of the expat community here.

I've always felt almost as much at home here as I do in America.  I've never experienced the culture shock that most expats have experienced, so sometimes, I don't understand their perspective.  When I first moved to Korea, a foreigner who was a Canadian of white descent asked me, "What are some of the weirdest things that you have seen here?"

I couldn't give her a good answer, because, honestly, nothing was really that strange to me.  

With very few exceptions, I've always understood why Koreans do the things they do, because being a middle child, I am naturally adaptive, and most of the time, I can be rather empathetic.  It's kind of funny how I am that way with the Korean community, and not the foreign community.  Another reason why I've always seemed to inherently understand how Koreans act is, while growing up, Korean culture was a significant part of my life every day in my home.  In some aspects of my life, I have a Korean mindset and a Korean perspective.  One of my Korean friends once told me that I have the inherent humility that Koreans have.  I took that as a huge compliment

I'm ashamed to say that when out and about by myself, which I find myself being quite often, I avoid foreigners like the plague.  In my workplace, and in my church, that is not the case.  My best friends here are foreigners from church, and foreign coworkers.  But on the street, I've preferred not to meet other Americans and foreigners.  I've always wanted to meet and interact with Koreans.  It's something that needs to be changed, but my mindset has been, if I want to be around Americans, I should be living in America.

Westerners, particularly Americans, can be seen as extremely loud and boisterous in public here in Korea, and I see the dirty looks Koreans give them when they act that way.  Koreans can be rather loud sometimes, but many of the people from the older generation have something against hearing English spoken loudly in public places.  My mindset here has always been that of a guest, and that I should abide by the cultural norms, and wishes of the natives here.  I believe in standing up for myself, but I also believe being courteous keeps you out of unpleasant situations that are avoidable.

I get so uncomfortable when in a restaurant or a cafe with a large group of westerners, and they proceed to take it upon themselves to rearrange the tables in order to accommodate themselves with total disregard for how Koreans are perceiving them.  In America, such a practice is completely fine, but in Korea, I've seen some really awkward looks from Koreans.

I've heard numerous Americans say to me without realizing who I am, "Koreans throw logic completely out the window."  It's been said to me numerous times, and I get so annoyed whenever I hear it.  Those things contribute to my willful avoidance, and I've recently found myself being rather unforgiving, when I should be more empathetic.  After all, I am a westerner myself.

The other evening, while on the neighborhood bus that shuttles me to and from the subway station, I saw a white foreigner, who looked to be an American, and looked like he could have been a nice guy.  It's rather rare to see foreigners on that particular bus route, moreover, it was the first time I had ever seen one there.  I know it was the same for him also.  I can say that, because he looked right at me.  I made eye contact with him, but I acted as if it were completely normal to see another American on the bus, and I immediately looked away, and completely avoided contact.  I did it in sort of a haughty manner, and for that, I am ashamed.

I could tell he wanted to talk.  Maybe he was having a difficult time, and needed another foreigner to talk to.  Maybe he felt alone in this strange country where people "throw logic completely out the window."  Maybe he could have been a friend, so looking back on that interaction, or lack thereof, I felt bad.

I should make myself more available.  I should also be more forgiving, and I shouldn't allow my critical feelings to get in the way of being more outgoing and helpful.    

Again, as a half-Korean, despite my attitudes towards some Americans here, the longer that I am in Korea, the more I see myself as an American.  At the same time, I've always understood Korean culture, and their way of life.   All my life, I've always been accustomed to being around Koreans, and hearing a language that I don't understand, so being here has always felt rather normal.   Not to mention, I've always loved Korean food.

I realize that I can't speak for other halfies, because numerous factors can determine the quality of a person's experience, but for me, living in Korea as a half-Korean is a good life.  Being in the middle of two cultures, and feeling at home in both can be rather comforting.  I would highly recommend it to any halfie that is at home considering moving here.

Being Half Korean in America

My full name is Christopher Choi Polk.  'Choi' is my mothers maiden name, and my two brothers have it also as their middle names.  I am from a suburb of New Orleans, Lousiana, called Slidell.  I remember on numerous occasions having to correct white and black teachers on the first day of school on how to pronounce the name 'Choi.'  I remember hearing them say things like "Chow," and "Troy."

                                                                                  

In high school, my brothers and I played football for Slidell High.  I remember our friends giving my older brother the nickname, "Bok Choi."  I became "Baby Bok," and my little brother was "Brussel Sprout."  

My mother is an amazing cook, and she used to cook Korean bar-b-que for our teammates and friends.  My brother used to joke, and tell them that my mother was cooking dog meat, and we used to tell them that the reason we had our dog, Annie (God bless her soul.  She recently died at the age of 16.) was to fatten her up for a future bar-b-que.  But they knew we were joking, and it would get a laugh, because some of our teammates that didn't know us as well as our close friends would actually believe us.  

Some of my first memories were eating kimchi and rice for lunch at the dinner table with my brothers and my mother.  I remember my mother licking the red pepper off of the kimchi, so it wouldn't be too spicy for a little boy such as the one that I was at the time. 

According to the Korean consulate, there are around 4000 Koreans living in metro New Orleans, so my mother has always had a lot of Korean friends.  As a little boy, I called each of them "ajumma."  When I got older, I called them Mrs. So and So.  

My aunt and uncle live near my mother, so between them and my mother's numerous Korean friends, hearing conversations in Korean in my house was a daily occurance, but I was never taught it, because my mother wanted us to be Americans.  Many of my foreign friends here in Korea get upset when we are hanging out with a group of Koreans, and they speak Korean to each other.  It never bothers me, because hearing a different language without understanding it is quite natural for me.  I am quite comfortable when that happens, and many times I will find myself listening and nodding along, as if I am a part of the conversation, even though I don't know exactly what is being said.  

At school, I never really saw myself as Korean.  I've always identified with my white friends, and saw myself as such, because my brothers and I never had any major problems fitting in with our white peers at school.  I was kind of a nerd/dork in elementary school, but it wasn't because I was of Korean descent, it was because I am naturally a little quirky.  I began to hang out with the popular crowd in middle school and high school, because I played football, and also because my older brother was always popular, and well liked.    

I've always looked just like my father, so people in school used to ask me if I were adopted, upon seeing my mother.  

It's ironic that I grew up calling my Korean mother, 'Mom,' and my American father, 'Appa,' which is the Korean word for dad.  He is from a town in south Mississippi near the Louisiana border, called Picayune.  He speaks with a thick southern accent, and I never realized that I spoke similarly until I heard my Canadian, and American friends not from the south tell me that they like my accent.  I am proud to be from the south, and proud to be from greater New Orleans.

Growing up, my goal was to be as white as possible, so I could fit in with my friends as well as possible, and I believe I did well, because I never had problems making friends, but despite that, fitting in with the popular crowd was difficult, not because of my Korean descent, but because of my inherent quirkiness, and the fact that, during high school, I was self-conscious of it.  

One day, as a young professional working in sales in the cellular industry, being the young single man that I was, I suddenly became interested in what Korean female celebrities looked like.  I can't explain exactly what spurred that curiosity, but I suddenly became extremely fascinated with Korean culture, and my roots as a Korean.  Throughout my academic life, I tried so hard to be white, and to suppress the Korean in me in order to fit in with my friends, and at a point in my life when fitting in was no longer necessary, I developed a strong fascination with the my Korean descent, which led me to embrace my Korean heritage.

Anyway, on a random night on the sofa with my laptop in my lap, sitting with my roommates, coworkers, and friends while relaxing, and watching a random NFL football game on the big screen at the house we shared in Baton Rouge, LA, I googled, "beautiful Korean celebrities."

Kim Tae Hee, and Song Hye Kyo were the two most prominent Korean celebrities that appeared in Google Images.  There is no denying that they are both gorgeous.  Any man would think that, and I was no different.

I was back home, and working in sales in America when Kim Yuna won the gold medal in women's figure skating at the Winter Olympics in Vancouver.  I was also home during the World Cup in South Africa, as I openly pulled for the South Korean team, who was rather competitive.  At the time, I would have pulled for them against America had they played each other.  And in the Olympics, I would have pulled for the Korean athlete if they were in direct competition with an American.  

A few years before that, I remember being secretly disappointed when Apolo Anton Ohno controversially won the gold medal against a Korean in short track speed skating during the Winter Olympics.  Ohno was seen sort of as a hero among Americans, but I never saw him as such.  To me, the Korean would have been, had he won. 

Kim Yuna and the Korean World Cup soccer team helped fuel my intrigue.  I began to look deeper into the blogosphere about Korean culture, because I had a strong desire to know what life was like over there.  I became addicted to learning about the culture of modern South Korea.  My hunger for info became almost insatiable.  

During the period of my fascination with Korean culture, my father, who works in the oil business, had an opportunity to accept a job in Malaysia.  My mother soon followed him, and they lived there for over a year.  While they were living in Malaysia, they suggested that we meet them in Seoul for a vacation.  My brothers, my sister-in-law, and I would fly over from America, and they would fly up from Kuala Lampur.  To say that I was extremely excited was an understatement.  It's funny how the timing of things sort of works together.  I don't believe any of it was a coincidence.  Moreover, I don't believe in coincidences.  

We spent one week in Seoul, and three days in Jeju.  When it came time to fly back to America, I didn't want to go back home.  I loved being in Korea.

Again, it's kind of funny how things work out.  Looking back, I believe it was the hand of God who blessed my desire to come to Korea, because around the time that I returned home from my vacation, I lost my job in sales.

I began to look for ways to return.  I quickly found out that teaching English was the best way to do that, and I had no problem finding a job.  I accepted a teaching position in Gwangju, and to say that I was excited when it was time to fly over the Pacific ocean for the second time in my life would be quite an understatement.

And now, here I am.

In my next post, I will discuss what it's like living in Korea as a halfie.  Stay tuned...