They say you learn something new every day. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but I believe my memory is sufficiently poor that I could have already discovered the answers to many of the questions I have, but promptly forgot them. Perhaps the meaning of my life is simply to jog my memory so that suddenly everything will become clear. It could very well be, since I often have that unsettling sense of deja vue... like when I watch a movie for what I think is the first time, but it turns out it was my old roomate's favorite movie so I probably saw it a hundred times.
In any case, last Friday one of my older students taught me about yet another oddity in Korean culture. She asked me if I saw the traffic stoppage at 2pm that day. She said at two o'clock, all the cars on the road had pulled over to the side. "Umm... terrorists..." She explained. I was shocked. I was pretty sure that even with the language barrier, I would have heard about something that big. But then she told me she couldn't explain it in English. So I asked one of the Korean teachers, and she said, "Oh yes, practice war." Practice war? What do you mean? The North and South plan a day of friendly fire every year? Unfortunately she seemed to think that her explanation was sufficient because she went no further into detail. Later I learned that there were air raid sirens sounding all over the city - an annual practice drill apparently, that everyone here seems to think is perfectly normal. Personally I was a little freaked out by the reminder that my home is a short forty minute drive from the world's most defended border. But I suppose if anyone is safe, it's those of us who work directly beside the police station in Seoul's richest community...
I was out with my friend Songhee last week-end, drinking beer as one tends to do on a Saturday night. And we were talking about cultural differences, as a Canadian does when you meet someone who strives to stand out in a stiffling culture. Songhee was, once again, inquiring about the marrying age in Canada. And again, I tried to explain that we don't really have a marrying age. I could get married tomorrow, or at 65 and no one would be shocked. Better still, no one would particularly care. I could decide never to marry and still it wouldn't be scandalous. Songhee wanted to know why, after three and a half years with Fred, we were not married. And so, I launched into a complicated explanation of how marriage is taken extremely seriously in Canada, due in part to the high divorce rate in our parent's generation. Canadians want to make sure that we have life experience before settling down, trying to maximize our chances for happiness as adults. I wanted to travel, Fred didn't. So I left, and he stayed. As a Canadian it wasn't terribly complicated. I felt to give her a fair picture of the situation though, I needed to explain the concept of common law marriage. I told Songhee that even without a marriage certificate, if we wanted to say we were married, we could, since we had lived together for so long (shhh- please don't say this too loud, if my head ever realizes this completely, the commitment-phobia might just kick in). Songhee seemed to understand, but starred at me funny. (I would like to take a moment to apologize to any family members who may not have put two and two together. Any (crazy) Catholics may want to close the page and tune in next week...) Finally, she asked what would happen if I got pregnant. And I starred at her, equally confused. I finally replied, "Well then, I guess I'd be pregnant." She continued to stare at me. Finally I stated what for me was obvious. I told her that Canadian women consider three options in this case- abortion, adoption or keeping the baby, regardless of the father's involvement. And then the reason for her confusion became clear. She asked, if the mother decided to keep the baby, but the father would not marry her- would the child be able to attend public school? I'm sure my face went blank. And my reaction gave away my answer. In unison, we asked the other if we were serious. Yes, it turns out we were both serious. The birth certificate of every child born in Korea tells whether or not the parents are married. If the unmarried box is checked, it's private school for your kid and hopefully you can afford it. And so it seems that the unmarried Korean woman who is unfortunate enough to become pregnant, really has no option but giving the child up for adoption. A woman needs her guardian's (father or husband) permission for an abortion. If your guardian won't consent, no abortion. If the woman chooses to keep it, the child cannot be educated, unless she has money. It may be better that the child not be born at all than raised in an 18th century environment where the parent's marital status becomes an excuse to treat him badly. Considering that women who smoke are spat on in public, labelled 'bad girls', and see their school grades and dating options fall quickly away, I somehow doubt that too many Korean men are up for dating a single mother. Damned if you do, and damned if you don't, I suppose. Makes me wonder about the availability of birth control pills. Do you need a man's permission for that as well? I told Songhee that my maternal grandparents were separated and in the 1950s, my grandmother needed a man's signature to take her children to the hospital. But that was 1950. The revelation that such injustices weren't permitted in Canada seems to have awakened her desire to find another country to call home...
In any case, it got me thinking. I am all for cultural differences and beliefs, I think it's important. But even over the last six months I have noticed some pretty significant changes in Korean society. It's an exciting time to be here. More and more young Koreans are travelling abroad, and coming back with tales of freedoms never before considered here. One of my friends claims to have seen five women, separately, smoking in public last week alone. Given that my count in six months is only at three, five in a week is pretty impressive. I have noticed many more Koreans with facial piercings. Up until a month ago, my count was at two. Now it's around fifteen. Things are changing, you can feel it. And with change comes the need for new leaders, new government. So here's the story...
We were on a bad- no, wait- horrendous field trip Thursday, to the National Museum of Korea (site of the 3000 year old monkey ordeal, some four months ago). My boss, being the sort of person who prefers chaos to organization and being of the insane variety (one who does the same thing over and over and expects different results), dragged me, three other teachers and twenty children (aged three to five) to the museum. And, as always, he failed to call ahead to book. Apparently my boss believes that in a city of 12 million people, it should be no trouble to do whatever you want, whenever you want. Like visit the city's largest free museum. I bet no other cheap school owners had that idea. Anyway, we arrived, only to discover that the museum is packed full and we are given permission to enter only in the children's museum. The children's museum about two rooms, and, fitting with Korean logic, contains many things not to be touched. Now remember kids- no running in the gym- we wouldn't want you having a childhood or anything. Hands off in the children's museum- things might be at eye level, but I assure you, it's only so you can see it, not touch it. And so, my boss lets the children run around like madmen, while I, determined not to be responsible for losing one so-called child, insist that that they hold hands and stay with me. But as we've learned before in travelling to museums, there is nothing more interesting than a blond, blue-eyed girl. So I got cornered. A Korean woman came up to me and started asking questions about the school and the program. She had been watching me with the kids and found it incredible that they could speak English so well from such a young age. We spoke for a minute, then I excused myself to be pulled away by the kids. But she followed. Cornered me with her husband and daughters, and started taking pictures. Mary was holding my hand and trying to drag me away from the lady responsible for her boredom. Jennifer and Sally took this opportunity to run off, leaving me fighting with Mary who is trying to pull me in the other direction. Jacob (my boss's son), true to form, is playing with an ink pad in the corner. He is eyeing a 1000$ Louis Vitton purse, as though all his bad behavior and mischief has led him to this very moment. The pinnacle of his career as an impossibly obnoxious child. My boss appears, VIDEO CAMERA in hand. To my shock and horror, the camera is pointing directly at me. He makes no effort to help me with either the kids or this incredibly inquisitive woman. I would have thought that a business man would see this woman as a potential client, but instead of talking to her, or helping me (god forbid), he filmed the whole ordeal so he can proudly send the tape home with the kids saying 'look at our trip to the museum'. Just when I thought it couldn't get any more chaotic, another Korean child appears and corners me from the left. He speaks perfect English, because he was raised in Guatemala and attended an American school. Our conversation was cut short as my boss declared (after getting all the footage he needed for a 'look how popular my blond teacher is' video) that it was time to go. As we made our way for the door, schools passing us left and right- each one stopping to say hello to the funny looking foreigners- it hit me.
I thought all of you (because of your loyalty in keeping up to date with my weekly rants) should be the first to know. I have changed my plans about this year in Korea ever so slightly. After careful reflection and observation of the Korean culture, its tendencies- both logical and nonsensical, I have decided that they need to have a window, small as it may be - to the Western world. My mind has been running through the possibilities since I arrived. How do I keep myself from returning to the horrors of waitressing when the plane drops me off in Montreal? I think I've found the answer. Over the last six months, I have discovered just how important it is to see other countries. To experience another way of life. And I have met many Koreans, some whom have had this opportunity, and others who have not. But as I celebrate my six month anniversary in this country, I'm baffled that the culture continues to astound me. The sort of attention that follows me here is of the sort that actors, singers, politicians fight to get. But to me it just happens. I honestly feel that were I to walk down the street next to the President of Korea, we might be evenly matched for stares and hellos. Might be. There is still a good chance that I would kick his ass. And so I decided, with the election a little over a month away- why not put it to the test? As long as I can put my picture on the ballot sheet, I've got a pretty good shot. In conclusion, you can probably expect that I will stay in Korea at least until the end of my first term. I look forward to taking up residency in the Presidential palace, and sending my private jet for all of you back home. But I might be home in six months if word gets out that the only Korean I know is annio haseyomuliyo (I don't know), bonjaki (sparkly), upsoyo (I don't have) and bap (rice). Oh yes, and ulmayo (how much?)- but really, wouldn't such a limited vocabulary improve relations with the North? ("Annio haseyo, Mr Kim... bap upsoyo.. bonjaki makchu? ahh... neeeeeee...makchu (beer)?") How much more Korean could the President possibly need to know? So remember, on May 31st - election day- a vote for Stephanie is a vote for public school for the bastards, marriage whenever you damn well please, a lightening up on the country's infamous "I'll trade you a joint for life in Korean prison" policy, and the legalization of tattoos. Vote blond! (hello),
No comments:
Post a Comment