Post #9

ConFoley say


Hello my drunken Confucianism students! That's right kids, today we'll be talking about perhaps the two most significant parts of Korean culture, Confucianism (with all it's intonations and cultural ramifications) and beer. But don't worry, this isn't going to be a boring analysis of Confucianism. We're talking about the real world applications of this philosophy, how it plays out and what it means to the people here. Plus, if you get bored, there's always the beer part.

But before we get to going, let me hit with a few Korea tidbits to jump start this party.

Me and a few of the teachers were out at a club the other night, sitting at a table, having some drinks. My friend and I were sitting at a table with what I thought to be a cute Korean girl.  My friend seems to be digging her. He's charming her left and right, and then, the next thing I know, he's kissing her. But after a little bit of that, he abruptly stops. He pulls away, leans back, and has this look on his face that something is horribly, horribly wrong. She sticks around for a few more minutes, then leaves. Afterwards, he turns to me and says:

"Foley, did you notice anything weird about her?"


I shake my head no.

He looks at me, disturbed. I press him to tell what happened, and like a scared child, he tells me. "Well, we kissed, and uh, there was something off."

"What?" I asked.

"She didn't have any front teeth," he said flatly. "Like most of the top row was missing."

Now, I'm not one of these guys who needs a girl with perfect teeth but, just saying, that strikes me as a turn off.

And while we're on the subject of physicality, let's talk about losing weight. People, if you're trying to shed some excess poundage, come to Korea. I've lost a cool five or ten pounds out here and put on a little bit of muscle (that's right, ladies). But, if you can't visit this excellent nation, and you're trying to cut those pounds, I recommend eating like the Koreans do. What does that mean? Three things: cutting out the red meat (Korea's all mountains, no grazing room = no cows), switching from bread to rice (trust me, I love sandwiches, but not eating them has made me a healthier boy), and eating ridiculously spicy food. Why spicy food, you ask? It makes you feel fuller than you actually are. Give it a try. You'll see what I mean.

And speaking of food, they have this thing out here called ho-duck. Despite the name, it's neither an insult to women nor is it made out of meat. Ho-duck basically a deep fried pancake dusted with sugar and loaded with a butter cinnamon sauce. It's dirt cheap street food and readily available. Did I mention I love this country?



But I'm trying to keep the theme going, so let's get back to the Confucianism. It has a lot of elements, but the one that stands out the most is the concept of Filial piety, or the respect of the Five Bonds:

• Ruler to Ruled
• Father to Son
• Husband to Wife
• Elder Brother to Younger Brother
• Friend to Friend

Only the last one is an equal bond. The rest, hierarchy. What this means in the real world is that women are below men and age is extremely important in Korea. Ladies, they will ask your age here. It's not considered rude. It's about where you stand with them. It really matters. You have to pay homage to those older than you. In what way, you ask? 

Little things, like the youngest person at the table has to pour the beer from the pitcher in everyone's glasses. Or the oldest brother can boss around his little brothers and sisters and they have to do what he says, just because he's older. And this doesn't just apply to children or drinking. My boss's younger brother (who is in his thirties) isn't allowed to marry anyone until she say's it's cool. She has to approve, or no wedding. That's what's up.


I have a single story that perfectly encompasses this phenomenon. It starts, as all good things dude, after beating on my new friends with a bamboo sword.

My kumdo (Korean sword fighting class) brothers seem to get a kick out of me. They're all older than me, so it means I have to pay them respect. I'm required to call them hyung-nim, which means older brother. And they call me "stupid" because I can't pronounce any of their names. However, they offered, one night, to take me out for mek-ju (beer) and sushi. I graciously accepted with a single thought in mind--these Koreans aren't gonna know what hit them.

Hell, I'm a young America guy, fresh out of college. A group of short, old Korean men can't keep up with the liver of a 22-year-old white giant. How wrong I was.

Learned a lot that night. Learned that so-mek (or the combination of mek-ju (beer) and so-ju (rice liquor) in the same glass) gets you really, really tanked, really, really fast. I heard legends that Koreans, as a country, drink more per person than any other country in the entire world (except for Russia). I don't know whether or not that's true, but my God, they can put them away. I've been sick only once so far in Korea, and it was after that night. On the plus side, raw fish tastes about the same on way up as it does on the way down.


But the social dynamic of sitting at a table with a whole bunch of Koreans, ranging in age from 26 to 53, all friends, taught me a lot about how age and gender matters in the everyday drinking culture of Korea. For instance, women can be openly mocked. And it's perfectly fine. I found this out while some of the kumdo guys were asking me if I liked Korean girls. I asked them, "Is the Pope Catholic?" and we all had a laugh. But this led to what was, for me, a very difficult and awkward position for sure.

One of the fellow kumdo ninjas at the table was nice girl named Heri probably in her mid-twenties. She was a little wider of a girl, but still cute, definitely had a pretty face. The guys decided to pose an interesting question. 

"What do you think of Heri?"

Keep in mind she's sitting right across from me. So I tell the truth. "She's pretty."

My kumdo brothers exploded, yelling out "No! No! No! No pretty! No pretty! Too big! Too big!... etc. etc." She took it in jest (and thanked me) but all I could think was how that would never, ever fly in the States. American girls would go on a shooting spree put in that situation. But this totally flies in Korea. Hell, that's probably why half of the girls out here get plastic surgery, and most of the other half think they need it.

Same deal with another female in my kumdo glass. She's lovely, in great shape, and a nurse. But because she's 31 and unmarried, they call her "old maid." No lie.


Age means everything out here. After crushing the so-mek all night and eating plate after plate of something that resembled General Tso's chicken, we were ready to call it a night. So I reach for my wallet and everyone starts to walk out, and I'm thinking, "No way can I afford this." What I then see is our elder kumdo brother, Gyum-Gi Hyung-nim, walk out from the kitchen after covering the whole tab. Because he's the oldest. There was ten of us out that night. It's just what's expected. He didn't mind, nor did anyone else offer.

And it's not enough that age is super important out here. Just to complicate things, Korean age is different than American age. In America, you start at zero and gain a year at each birthday. It's, you know, based off of logic. In Korea, when you're born, you're one. Then for every year you're alive, you get an extra year. But not year as in the amount of years you have under your belt (i.e. I was born on January 9th, so every January 9th I am one year older), every year you're alive you gain a year. So, if I was born in 1955, and now it's 1956, I've been alive for two years as of January 1st, 1956. So I'm two. I think.

By my math my Korean age is somewhere between twenty-four and sixty-three. I'm still trying to figure it out. So I just tell people I'm 22. That way, I'm the youngest I can be and I dodge covering the tab. I don't mind pouring the beer.

And speaking of beer, if you don't believe the Koreans are serious about their alcoholism, check this out. They decided that American 40's (that's right, I'm talking about the 40oz. beers that are only drunk by homeless men and college students) were just not enough beer. So they have 2 liters of beer here. Or for you non-metric people, 66oz. of liquid. They call it a pitcher. But it's in a bottle. Fantastic.


But if you'll indulge me, I want to end this blog entry on a serious note. Confucianism breeds some very, very good things: respect for the elders, importance of families, and free drinks to us young folk. But they are so unbelievably focused on this idea of the Confucian understanding of social connections that sometimes, things get really messed up.


My example is the Sung Bin Orphanage. I started volunteering there. And before you start patting me on the back for my great deed for humanity, just know it's a two hour a week commitment and I only do it as a feeble attempt to counterbalance all the bad stuff I've done in my life. Sung Bin Orphanage is here in Gwang-ju. I heard they're always looking for volunteers, so I decided to check it out one Saturday. I've been going the last three weeks.

It's a girl's orphanage, with about eighty of the cutest Korean girls you've ever seen, ranging in age from one to eighteen. We don't do a whole lot, just little things like take them to the park on sunny days, or do art projects with them. We just finished a Dr. Seuss mural of "Oh The Places You'll Go." My biggest contribution is my drawings of Simpsons and Garfield style characters that I give to the girls. I'll do a quick sketch and they'll color it in. My only qualm with it is that they color-in Homer's shirt in all hot pink and sky blue and florescent green and it just makes him look like a hippie golfer, which he's never been (although he's been both separately). But they seem happy, so I guess I can let it go. Plus there's this one little girl who played soccer with me for twenty minutes the other day and she can color Homer any way she wants.

But there's a fair amount of western volunteers (all teachers) and high school and college aged Korean girls who help out, try to set a positive role model for the girls. The guy who heads it is this college professor here in Korea, a guy in his fifties who goes by 'Al.' If any of you have ever read my book, he's almost exactly what I picture Jazz to look, sound, and act like. But he warns me, on my first day, how rough things are for these girls. I mean, they have resources and food and so many good people taking care of them. But there's this one little girl, can't be much older than three, that calls him oh-pa (father) and here's her story.

In America, to go to an orphanage, your parents need to be either dead, in prison, or insane. Here, that's not the case. This little girl was born to a married couple. Things didn't work out between Mom and Dad, and so they split. Mom got custody. Picks up the pieces, moves on, and meets another guy. Falls in love. The guy wants to marry her. Things are great. Except, he's not about to raise some other guy's kid. Not his bloodline, he's not interested. And so Mom makes a choice, chooses the man, and now her daughter lives at the orphanage.


That's right, sports fans, in Korea, if you don't want your kid, you can give them up to an orphanage, no questions asked. And this is where Confucianism hits a snag. Bloodline trumps all. Not a lot of stuff gets through to me, but that did.

Say what you will about Americans and about Catholicism and all the imperialism done by both (and trust me, there's plenty of fault to find in both), but those are the two biggest reasons orphanages exist in Korea in the first place. Makes me proud to be both.

And man, you gotta wonder when you see these girls how someone could say no.




But this is not an attack on Korea or Confucianism, two things that, most of the time, I'm really down with. It's just tough, because when you experience things that shake you down to the core of your being, it's tough to remember the good. But there is so much of that too. And when I realize that, I find my peace.


I will leave you with this, a picture of me meditating after kumdo, and a quote from the man himself, Confucius.

  
"I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand."

As always, miss you cats, love you cats. Go do something. Orders from Dr. Confucius. 

-Kumdo Guy