A Homecoming

So while I was living in Seoul, my parents came for a two-week visit to Korea.  It was a really momentous occasion, as it marked the first time that my father returned to Korea, since he left as a young child in 1969.  Both of my parents were born in Korea, immigrated to America with their families at a young age, and grew up in America.  Having spent over 40 years in America, my parents are as culturally acclimated as one could possibly be.  But they still keep a special place in their hearts for their motherland and reminisce about their childhoods spent there.

Statue of King Sejong

Minsokchon, the traditional folk village

Silly dad, being a human lock at Namsan Tower

It was so nice to see my parents and catch up.  My father loved every second of the trip.  Interestingly, he remarked that the Korea that he remembered and modern-day Korea are like two entirely different worlds.  Still suffering from the lingering effects of Japanese occupation and its historic divide into two separate nations, South Korea, in the 1960s, was a struggling third-world country.

But within a matter of decades, South Korea developed from one of Asia's poorest countries to one of the world's wealthiest.  His old neighborhood in Seoul, once dominated by unpaved dirt roads, now sits in the heart of luxury and modernization, surrounded by skyscrapers and shopping complexes.  During their trip, my parents got to visit relatives, old friends, and explore the cities of Seoul, Daegu, and Daejeon.

Deoksugung Palace in Seoul

On Wednesday, February 15th, the three of us got on the KTX and headed to Daegu, the fourth largest city in Korea and the hometown of my paternal grandmother.  My paternal grandmother is the second of six children and the only daughter in the family.  As soon as we arrived, we scoped the crowd to find my great uncle, my paternal grandmother's second brother.  Almost immediately, my father spotted him and ran into his loving embrace.  Standing next to each other, the resemblance between by great uncle and father was undeniable, as were the pent-up emotions from decades of separation.  From there, we went to my great uncle's house for lunch and then looked at old family photos, carefully saved and cherished after all these years.

The day of nostalgia and remembrance continued on into the afternoon.  After lunch, we piled into the car and drove northwest of Daegu, towards the town of Gumi, to visit the tombs of my deceased relatives.  After 40 minutes of driving, we pulled over in a remote area at the base of a mountain and met up with two more of my father's uncles.  From there, we began an upward hike together along a path lined by leaves and decades of filial obligation.  Despite their old age and the steepness of the mountain, my three great uncles trudged ahead, literally and metaphorically leading the way for their descendants. 

We hiked upwards for about 20 minutes and stopped when we arrived at two huge burial mounds strategically placed on the side of the mountain, a traditional burial site for Koreans.  With beads of sweat dripping down my face, I tried to imagine how exhausting it was to carry the bodies up here in the first place and encompass them in perfectly spherical mounds of dirt.  In front of each burial mound stood a stoic gravestone, engraved with Chinese characters - the historic language of Korea before the hangeul alphabet was adopted.  These cryptic words revealed much about my ancestry and relatives that I had never met.

My deceased great-grandfather and his wife were buried behind the first tombstone.  The intricate carvings revealed that he was highly educated and served as a doctor for the army.  Behind the second tombstone, lay my great-great grandfather, who was a Christian pastor.   Although Christianity is now quite prevalent in Korea, it did not become adopted into mainstream society until the 1960s.  Using this date for reference, we can assume that my great-great grandfather was a pioneer in his own right.  As my great uncle translated, it was really fascinating to learn about my deceased relatives.  But things became emotional, once we looked at the back of the gravestone.

On the other side of my great-grandfather's gravestone, we found a transcribed family tree, listing all of his surviving kin.  Following patriarchal customs, only the names of men were listed and his only daughter's name was ostensibly missing.  However, scribbled at the bottom was one final testament to my nuclear family.  The last name carved into the tombstone was that of my paternal grandfather, who married into this family right before the head patriarch passed away.  As soon as my father saw his own father's name, forty-three years of emotions swept over him and began to slowly pour down his face.

It was an incredibly emotional experience for all of us.  Not only did it mark a long-awaited reunion, it was also the first time, in which I felt a personal connection to Korea.  When I look in mirror, my slick black hair and dark almond eyes remind me of my heritage.  When I stumble through conversations in Korean, I become seemingly aware of the culture and history.  However, prior to this moment, I never felt particularly attached to the country - that is, the land and the people. 

In some ways, my decision to come to Korea serves as a full circle for my family.  Forty-three years ago, my father came to America with his family, in hopes for a better life.  In this new country, they worked hard and were rewarded with a comfortable living and relative success.  I was born into this world, having already been blessed by these seized opportunities.  Years later, I decided to return to the motherland with the goal of learning more about myself and where I came from.  Surrounded by five generations of family, I felt an overwhelming sense of warmth around me.  As tears began to stream down my face, the clouds parted and the sun beamed down, as if to say "welcome home."

After experiencing that pivotal moment on the mountain, we said our goodbyes to my father's two other uncles and headed back toward Daegu.  Along the way, we stopped by Daegu Stadium, which hosted the Fifa World Cup in 2002 and most recently, the IAAF World Championships last fall.

Then, we headed to Woobang Tower or Daegu Tower and took the elevator all the way up to the Observation Deck.  Similar to Namsan Tower in Seoul, Woobang Tower offers a beautiful 360 degree view of the entire city.  One notable thing about Daegu is that many of its buildings have roofs that are painted in brightly colored hues - how fitting since city's motto is "Colorful Daegu."  After that, we took the elevator a few flights down to the rotating cafe, where we sipped on overpriced coffee, enjoyed each other's company, and admired the stunning view.

Next, we headed to dinner at a Chinese restaurant.  It was a super fancy joint and everything was delicious.  The food never stopped coming out of the kitchen; I stopped counting after the eighth course or so.  But soon, it was time to return to the train station and head back to Seoul.  Saying goodbye to my great uncle was a really painful experience, especially for my father.  After so many years apart, they were finally reunited and once again forced to go separate ways.  I think that it was a really meaningful day for all of us.  Fortunately, this wasn't goodbye forever.  My father's side of the family is planning on visiting Korea in the fall and I will be going back to Daegu this week, when my students have midterm exams.

On Saturday, February 19th, my parents and I ventured to Daejeon to meet my host family and spend some time exploring my stomping ground.  It was clear that my host mom and sisters spent several days preparing for visit.  The apartment was absolutely spotless and there were nearly fifteen different plates of food offered for lunch.  It was an unbelievable spread.  My two families sat on the floor in the living room and shared a meal together over great conversation and frequent eruptions of laughter.  Everyone ate so much food.  I can't remember the last time I was that full.

After lunch, we sat down and enjoyed free musical entertainment, courtesy of my father and host mother.  They played guitar and sang together, as the rest of us cheered them on and clapped along.  The scene looked right out of some cheesy family sitcom.

My parents and my host family got along so incredibly well.  As usual, my father cracked corny jokes the entire time, and my host family ate it up.  I'm pretty sure they like him better than me.  Haha, but not kidding.  Anyway, here's a nice photo of all of us together and a funny one.

After visiting my host family, I showed my parents around Daejeon.  We went up to the top floor of City Hall, and then walked over to my school.  There was a huge banner affixed to the front of the school building, revealing the college admission results of the graduating third-year class.  This year, my school will be sending fourteen students to SKY universities, a.k.a. the three best universities in Korea.  Talk about impressive!  Next, we headed over to Eunhaengdong, the old downtown area, checked out the underground shopping market, and then took the scenic route to head back to the train station.  It was a perfect day.

It was so good to see my parents and share in my father's homecoming to Korea.  Our visit to Daegu was especially profound and moving.  On this place upon a hill, I felt my personal goals for coming to Korea being realized.  Through that experience, I learned so much about my relatives and finally began to feel at peace with my Korean identity, who I am, and where I'm going.

This is likely the only physical remnant of my ancestors that I will ever see in Korea.  My other three grandparents were born above the 38th parallel and escaped to the South before the war broke out.  Nevertheless, it was amazing to see where one of my grandparents came from and connect with my family's past on an intimate level.  After eight months here, I can now say that Korea's starting to feel like home for me, as well.

Becoming a Seoulcialite

After 2 weeks of traveling, I finally returned home with a golden tan, a backpack overflowing with souvenirs, and over 1000 photos from the trip.  As soon as I arrived, my host family welcomed me back with open arms.  It was great to see them again.  While I thoroughly enjoyed the trip, it was time to get back into a routine again.  And boy, did that transition happen quickly.  I arrived back in Daejeon on the evening of Sunday, January 29th and by February 1st, I moved to Seoul for a month of intensive Korean language classes.

In that short period of time, I had to unpack my bags, do laundry, repack my bags, clean my room, run some errands, and write an evaluation of my English Winter Camp to submit for my school's records.  It was quite hectic, to say the least.  Fortunately, I got home just in time to celebrate my host brother's 14th birthday!  Prior to this, I asked my mother to mail me some stuff from home to give to Joon-soo for his birthday [Thanks Mom].  The gifts included 3 large bags of sour cream and onion chips (his absolute favorite) and the game Bop-It (which now my host kids are addicted to).  Host mother cooked him his favorite beef dish for dinner and for dessert, we all devoured a scrumptious chocolate cake.  It was a great day.

While I was home in Daejeon, I also received some seriously disturbing news.  If you can recall back to early December, my otherwise pleasant school life was disrupted by the sudden suicide of one of my students.  Well, while I was having the time of my life in southeast Asia, it happened again.  Call it a copycat suicide, if you will, but it certainly doesn't lessen the blow of this horrible tragedy.  It occurred on January 16th, when I was likely frolicking around Kuala Lumpur without a care in the world.  My host family and Fulbright friends thought about informing me as soon as they found out, but both parties decided that it wasn't worth ruining my trip and saved me from the emotional heartache until I returned home.

I started off the year with 638 students, and ended it with 636.  Over the course of the semester, two young, innocent lives were lost to the pressures of Korea's unforgiving education system and the torments of bullying.  Almost two months later, I still find myself unable to come up with the right words to describe how shocking this is to me.  This time, I had a personal connection to the victim.  As the class captain of the first victim's homeroom, she always erased the chalkboard for me and made sure that everything was in order before I arrived.  She was a sweet girl with a good heart and a genuine desire to help.  That very sense of duty is what likely led to her downfall.

Later on, I learned that the first and second victims were friends.  Having both a leadership role and personal attachment to the first victim, the second student was unquestionably affected by the earlier tragedy.  In losing her classmate, she became absorbed in grief and felt as if she failed as a class captain and friend.  Apparently, she attended the free counseling sessions offered by the Daejeon Ministry of Education, but they did little good.  She began isolating herself and making up excuses to avoid coming to school and confronting her guilt.  Eventually it all became too much to handle, and she, too succumbed to the unbearable turmoil and stress.

I cannot fathom what these victims felt in the days leading up to their death.  It is so hard for me to imagine that a person can feel so hopeless that s/he would rather choose death than continue on any longer.  But these incidents are not isolated events.  It is happening throughout the country.  In Korea, suicide is now the leading cause of death among those aged 15-24.  I wonder how many more individuals will have to kill themselves before the government begins to recognize this as a serious problem and actively seeks to counteract this startling statistic.  More than anything, this is a profound lesson for me.  Stuck in my little bubble, I sometimes feel detached from the real world and forget about the greater struggles and crises that exist out there.  But moments like this bring me back to earth, reminding me that life is so precious and cannot be taken for granted.

Anyway, on that happy note - I moved to Seoul early in the morning on February 1st.  It was perhaps the coldest day of the year.  Seoul was dusted over with a powdery blanket and sheets of ice coated the sidewalks.  This, of course, made for a very unpleasant moving-in experience.  Trying to lug my suitcase down the street without slipping was a nearly impossible, and I was cold, cranky, and underslept.  We got there early because we wanted to check in and drop off our bags before our language placement test at 10am.  The test consisted of written multiple choice questions and an oral interview.  It went alright and I was placed in the same class as Amy and Korena, two of my closest friends here.

For the entirety of the month, Amy and I opted to stay at Coco Residence, a 고시원 (goshiwon) in the lively Sinchon neighborhood.  A goshiwon is a small room that students often inhabit for a few months to isolate themselves so that they can study for a big test.  Talk about a very Korean concept.  My room had a bathroom and shower attached, and the place came with free internet, television, laundry, and meals (nothing fancy, just ramen, rice, and some vegetable side dishes).  But considering that I paid around $400 for the month, it was a pretty good deal.

The goshiwon was in a great location, smack in the center of a triangle between Sinchon train station and the Ewha Women's University and Sinchon subway stops.  In the morning, we just had to hop on the subway and go two stops to get to our language class.  But there was one serious issue with this residence; it lacked any semblance of heat. When we arrived in Seoul, the weather was averaging in the low twenties, definitely below freezing temperature every day.  For this reason, the first few nights at Le Coco Chateau (the posh nickname for our not-so-posh abode) were unbearably cold. 

I wore 3 layers of pants, two shirts, a fleece hoodie, two pairs of socks, and a hat to bed, and I still woke up shivering.  It was so bad that I seriously considered leaving and finding somewhere else to stay.  After incessantly complaining to the manager, she eventually provided us with small space heaters for our rooms.  I have no idea how the other folks staying there were surviving.  With the space heater and the weather becoming warmer every day, it ended up working out.  But it was a really stressful experience, at the time.  Fortunately, other aspects of my life in Seoul were much more pleasant and enjoyable.

The main goal for coming to Seoul was to improve my Korean language skills.  For four days a week, several hours every day, we took class at Ganada Korean Language Institute, located in the fun, youthful Hongdae neighborhood.  It was established by Yonsei University in 1991 and was the first Korean language institute in Korea.  Overall, I was quite satisfied with the course's content, instruction, and structure.  We learned a new chapter in the textbook every day.  The pace was relatively quick, but not too overwhelming.  There were 12 students in our class: 6 Japanese, 4 Americans, 1 Chinese, and 1 Canadian.  The diversity of the classroom made for an interesting experience because without a common language, we were forced to rely on our Korean to communicate with each other. 

The class was really what you made out of it.  It was possible to get by the next day without reviewing the material the night before.  But if one studied the new vocabulary and grammar every night, one could make significant strides in the course of one month.  The biggest struggle was the plethora of new vocabulary words that were thrown at us every day.  In total, we learned over a thousand new vocabulary words and dozens of new grammar points. 

At the end of the month, there was a final exam that tested our reading, writing, speaking and listening skills.  I ended up with 2 A's and one B+; the lowest grade being in listening, which is ironic because, having heard relatives speak Korean my entire life, listening is quite arguably my strongest skill.  Regardless, I was proud of my progress and achievement.  The only pictures that I have of class depict my friends and I hoarding an obscene amount of snacks during break time.  Haha, I suppose that was a very integral part of my Korean language learning experience.

My day-to-day schedule in Seoul went like this: wake up around 8am, cook breakfast, then hop on the subway and head to class.  After class, a bunch of us got together and ate lunch somewhere in Hongdae.  Next, we'd all go our separate ways.  I usually went home, took a quick nap and then went to the gym.  After that, I'd sit in a cafe and study Korean.  In the evening, I would eat dinner, then usually meet up with friends.  On days off, I explored different neighborhoods of Seoul with my friends and caught up on the majority of my homework.  It was an ideal schedule, with a good balance of work and play. 

The best part of living in Seoul, by far, was being able to see my friends on a regular basis.  There were so many Fulbrights living in Seoul during Winter Break.  I would estimate about 1/3 of us were either taking Korean class, interning somewhere, or just visiting for the weekend at any given time.  In terms of being close in proximity again, it kinda felt like a repeat of Orientation.  Below are some photos from our highly anticipated "Plaid Day."

All in all, I don't think that I could've had a better Winter Break.  I got to go home to America for 2 weeks, travel all throughout Southeast Asia for 2 weeks, and then spend an entire month living and studying in Seoul.  What a lucky girl, I am!  During my time in Seoul, my real parents came to visit me and our relatives that still reside here.  Next time, I'll tell you all about their trip to Korea!