The Good, The Bad, and The Far-From-Ugly Part One: Why You Gotta Be So Rude?

My Korean seat neighbour described two blogs ago turned out to be an accurate representative of most Koreans I would encounter during my time in Busan. I'm going to go ahead and expect a slew of comments from upset readers berating me for making generalisations, so let me just go ahead and address that now. These are just opinions based on my observations. I know that people from every country are all unique and have their positive and negative personality traits. However, as an outsider, there were things I observed. My observations based on a short period of time, good and bad, are all that this blog details. So, everybody chill in advance.

Because it's just a blog

I initially wrote all of my observations in one long blog, but I know how short attention spans are these days, so I have turned it into a multiple-blog series. Enjoy.

Why You Gotta Be So Rude?

As I previously mentioned, living amongst the Japanese for months has likely tainted my perspective on how people should act. Japanese people are some of the genuinely kindest I have ever met. They rarely have ulterior motives driving their actions and will go out of their way to help anyone at all, even someone they barely know. Greetings are of utmost importance in Japanese culture as well as cleanliness and politeness. Had I travelled from New York to Busan, I may not have noticed a thing.

However, I was traveling from Japan to Busan. So imagine how I felt the first time I heard a Korean man hacking up a spit wad right there in the metro station. Shocked would describe it pretty well, though the more it happened the less it surprised me.

Also, in Japan people generally walk in a direct path to their destination in the train station. If they divert from said path and bump into you, they are quick to apologise. I know at least three ways to apologise in Japanese because of this. In Korea, people often walked directly into me and didn't even hesitate. No "excuse me" or "I'm sorry." Sometimes, it even seemed like they were INTENTIONALLY trying to run into me. For example, when I would walk down a practically empty hall and someone was walking the opposite direction, they still found a way to bump into me. How!? Why?!

Also, the staring. In India, people ogled me like I was a bearded lady in a freak show and didn't even try to pretend they weren't staring. Even when I returned their gaze they kept starting. Koreans weren't as bad, but some still stared at me to the point I felt very uncomfortable. That is another thing that I never experience in Japan.

Finally, the train situation. In Japan, people line up alongside the doors when the train arrives and wait for the passengers to get off before they file in. In Korea, forget it. The method there was "barge right in as soon as the doors open and don't wait for anyone to get off first."

When push comes to shove, Korea is a dog-eat-dog world. 

A Picnic in a Mine Field

So many mountains to potentially conquer, so little time.

Literally, Busan is surrounded by mountains. So, while preparing for my trip, I did substantial research on which peak to take on during my short time. The first intriguing aspect of hiking Jangsan mountain was its accessibility. Many other trails required a number of metro transfers and a bus transfer or two. No thanks. Jangsan required only a short ride on the metro and BAM, you're there.

Of course, there is always a catch. In the case of Jangsan mountain, the catch comes in the form of many old land mines scattered beneath the terrain. Therefore, you better stay on the bath lest you desire to lose a limb.

Better stay on the path!

Hiking in Korea is quite a bit different form hiking elsewhere. Trekkers don themselves with matching hiking gear and stop at a number of "fitness parks" en route to the peak to fit in some bench press reps or crunches. Also, there are some fire hydrants alongside the path in case of a forest fire. Gotta pee and don't feel like roughing it? Don't worry- there are also relatively nice bathrooms along the trail.

I enjoyed the solitude provided by the hiking experience. The bitter cold temperatures kept me moving quickly towards my peak in a desperate attempt to generate internal heat. It worked. I didn't pay any attention to the strange looks my outfit attracted- apparently wearing a sweatshirt, gloves, and a scarf that are all different colours is frowned upon in Korea.

Breathtaking (noun): This view.

The most entertaining moment of my hike came when I was on the decline. As I stopped to snap some photos of a breathtaking view, two old Korean women enjoying a picnic began talking to me and motioned for me to join them. I kept pointing at myself to make sure they really meant me, and they nodded so I took a seat. They handed me an orange. At that moment I really wished I'd known the word for "thank you." Then they poured me a hot beverage.

"Coffee?" I asked in a hopeful tone.

One of the Korean grannies wagged a finger. "PREMO coffee." Oh. My bad. Gotta emphasize its premium quality.

In the end, I received a hard-boiled egg, a few cups of PREMO coffee, and an orange. Yay, sustenance! Prior to meeting those ladies, I felt like a beaten and weary traveler. Their kindness gave my body and mind a 180, turning me into a post-spinach Popeye.

During our mountain picnic, they continued gabbing amongst themselves, and I figured they had forgotten me. Then they began pointing at my face and saying a word that sounded like "ming." I pointed at my face and made an angry expression and said "mean? I look mean?" and they shook their heads and continued to say "ming." As each woman said the word, the other nodded in agreement.

Perhaps I resembled someone named Ming? No way. There's nothing Asian about my face whatsoever. Perhaps they were inquiring if my ancestors were part of the Ming Dynasty? That would be cool, but nope. They just kept repeating the same words over and over. And I just remained confused.

Eventually I just gave up on my futile attempt to understand. It was useless. I just hope they weren't insulting me. In spite of their food-related kindness, I wouldn't have been surprised if they were calling me fat, or ugly, or some other insult. As I came to discover, Koreans are "a bit" vain. Also, a bit rude. Of course, I am not attempting to generalise an entire people, simply to state what I observed after being in Korea for a couple of days. Honestly, perhaps they only SEEMED rude in comparison for the Japanese, who would give you the shirt off their backs in below-zero temperatures without a second thought.

So... stay tuned for my next post: a detailed analysis of the Korean people.

Sexist Language

My ears are open wide every time I am in the teachers' room at school. I listen constantly, hoping to absorb Japanese in any way possible. The English teacher next to whom I sit frequently said "よし," or "yoshi" (but it is drawn out, and sounds like "yoshhh") before he would go to class. I thought about what it meant, and eventually realised that it was used as a way to mentally prepare yourself for something. I grew to love the word, especially because it is one for which we don't really have a translation in English. So, of course, I adopted it into my vocabulary. I began to say it before class and before anything that I was nervous about doing. 

Saying よし became as much of a habit as breathing. I used it when I was alone. I used it in public. Yoshi! Just thinking the word made me feel so much more prepared for the task before me. 

YOSHI!

Then, today, my spirits sank.

On Sunday mornings, I teach a class in Konosu. The students are Japanese men aged 60 and over, and teaching them is extremely fun for me. Their English is already at fluency level, and they love listening to my grammar rants (people generally hate when I correct their grammar, but not these guys). They also enjoy answering my questions about Japanese.

So, today I decided to ask them about "yoshi." They stared at me wide-eyed and didn't hesitate whatsoever to inform me that ladies NEVER say "yoshi," and that it is something ONLY men can say. I felt panic come over my face, perhaps a bit extreme of a reaction. But, but....よしwas something I came to love! I couldn't fathom the idea of parting with such a wonderful word! I begged them, irrationally, asking if there was any way I could use it. Perhaps my status as a foreigner meant it was okay and I could get away with it? Please?? They simply shook their heads. They told me I had to let go of よし. I had to move on. But, I simply can't grasp that idea. I just can't let go of my beloved よし. 

Why must Japanese be so sexist? As I spoke a slew of other colloquial phrases I had picked up in the teachers' room, they informed me that 85% of them were not acceptable for females to speak. I felt so unbearably crushed. I just can't accept that. 

So...regardless, I say よし! Perhaps not in front of them, however...

REAL Face to Face Communication?? WHAT??

One of the things I love best about Japanese culture is the importance of social interaction. I’m accustomed to people sitting at dinner tables and staring at their smart phones instead of looking at each other, even in restaurants. Here, the thought of doing so is unfathomable. My dear teacher friend, the lady with whom I have been spending most of my free time, told me about how important it is to Japanese women to go out together to chat and bond. 

Just getting in my bonding time

In school, greetings are of paramount importance, and you never walk past another person without a nod at the very least, though it is usually a “hello” or “good morning” or comparable saying. In my last job, we all just sat around in a freezing cold room staring at a computer screen for 8 hours straight and barely talking. Explaining this to my Japanese friend caused her to gasp in astonishment, demonstrating how incredulous she found this cultural difference.  I guess a society in which there is minimal person-to-person interaction that still occurs is pretty bizarre, we just have adapted to it in the United States at least.

Americans' idea of social interaction

The depth of the relationships that I have already developed with some of my coworkers in such a short amount of time amazes me, especially considering the language barrier. They have accepted me and embraced me and everyday they make me feel like family. All it takes is a little smile or a seemingly small act of kindness. I think Americans could learn a substantial amount from the Japanese, as far as personal communication and the treatment of others goes.

Love Demonstrated Through a Gym Membership

What makes a job awesome? A great view? A lot of vacation days? A nice break room? Sure, those things help as far as enhancing the work environment, but the real factor determining a love or hate of your job is your coworkers.

The Japanese know hospitality better than every 1950’s housewife combined. I mean, these hospitable, generous-beyond-reckoning people would give a stranger the shirt off of their backs in a heartbeat. I discovered the true degree to which Japanese will demonstrate their kindness yesterday over a seemingly simple task. I heard about a cheap gym nearby the main train station where I live from another ALT working here. He said that it was really cheap and clean, but warned me that signing up was difficult as none of the employees at the gym spoke any English. My cocky alter ego brushed this advice aside, thinking “psh, how hard can it possibly be?” Pretty freaking hard, it turns out. I walked into the gym and there was a lot of awkward pointing and trying to simplify our languages in the hopes of the other party understanding but to no avail. So, I took an information flyer and figured I could ask a teacher later.

Everyone's thoughts here when they talk to me

I asked one of the teachers the next day (poor guy, since he sits beside me he is always the one I ask to translate every single thing. For example, I bring him my mail everyday and ask what is important and what I can toss) about the flyer. He said that I could sign up online for only 500 yen or in person for 1000. The difference between $5 may seem trivial, but not to a teacher who hasn’t been paid yet and won’t be for another couple of weeks. Plus, $5 can buy me an entrée at an Indian restaurant for lunch or a glass of wine out at dinner. Not to mention a delicious Starbucks latte. The point is, if I could save five dollars by signing up via an easier method, I’d instantly oblige. So, the teacher said he would help me and dropped everything he was doing, which I imagine was really important, and tried to get on the site. However, the schools in Japan are so paranoid about viruses that they block basically every website, so we couldn’t log on.

Later, I was chillin’ with the vice principal watching the students practice for their festival and we were talking about running and I mentioned that I like to run inside when it rains and told him about my gym situation. He got serious all of a sudden and informed me that we WOULD get me signed up before I left for the day. So, next time we got to the teachers’ room he tried to sign up on a school computer only to be greeted by the same warning message that it was an insecure site. Did Mr. VP let this get him down? Heck no! He asked one of the younger teachers for his smart phone and asked him to help me sign up. Eventually, there was a group of about five of us huddled around signing me up on the smartphone. One teacher then called the gym and asked what else I needed to do to ensure I was all set up. He then asked the teacher who speaks English the best if he would accompany me to the gym to translate while the employees there give me the “welcome to the gym” speech. The English teacher agreed without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

Seriously, none of this would ever happen in the states.

They Do It in India, They Do It in Japan

No, my blog did not just take a leap to NC-17 rated material. Sorry, all my perv readers out there (hopefully none of you...). I am not referring to "IT" in the sense that giggly 5th graders in Sex-Ed often do. I am referring to a cultural practice which, though it may sound nice in theory, is something I am SO thankful we don't do in the US of A. The practice to which I am referring is that of wearing different shoes indoors and outdoors.

Changing shoes when you enter a building from outside sounds like a good idea, as previously mentioned, in theory. It seems that it would prevent floors from getting contaminated with the filth tracked in from outside. However, the nitty-gritties of the practice are what disgust me and convince me of the repulsion resulting from it.

Two words, ladies and gents: loaner shoes. Yes, if you do not have your indoor shoes with you when you enter a building requiring the removal of your outdoor shoes, you need to BORROW the designated guest indoor shoes provided by the establishment. I cannot even fathom the number of strains of fungi hanging out inside of those loaner shoes. I mean, depending on the visitor traffic of the place, there could be hundreds of pairs of feet sliding in and out of those things DAILY. That includes the feet of extremely unhygienic people who shower a maximum of once a week. I'm sorry, but shockingly I would rather soil the holy floors of a building than put my foot where those feet have been. Gross.

NO! Not the LOANER SHOES!!