Believe it or not, my inability to speak Korean has certain downfalls in this country.
For instance, it is not uncommon for a knockout girl to come up to me and say I look like Brad Pitt (mostly because all white people look the same). I'll say to her a few key lines in Korean, she'll giggle, and then five seconds later, we'll run out of things to talk about, because my Korean sucks and she "no speaka Englishee."
Or when my Korean neighbor who owns the sam-bop (pork and rice) restaurant on my block tells me she wants me to come over for dinner. Sure dinner's delicious, but the conversation trickles to nothing after I tell her she's a great cook. We just trade smiles and uncomfortable laughs. It's especially a bummer in this case because she wants me to marry her daughter. Her daughter is a ballerina.
But you know what the worst part about not being able to speak Korean is?
People in this country think I'm retarded.
There. I said it.
It doesn't matter whether or not they think I'm Johnny Depp. On the inside, they think I'm a moron. Allow me to explain.
It's the little things. Like when I bought some beer the other day at the Mini-Stop (the Korean version of CVS) for 7,000 won (about 7 bucks). So I throw the guy 12,000 won (one 10,000 won bill and two 1,000 won bills) because I want to get a 5,000 won bill in return (12 - 7 = 5). The guy looks at the money, shakes his head, hands me back the two 1,000 won bills I handed him, and then takes three more out of the register and tries to give them to me. I shake my head and keep saying "five" in Korean. He doesn't understand. I persist, through pointing and speaking broken Korean, but it's pointless. He just looked at me like I had just run over his dog with my car.
Or the cafeteria I go to on weekdays. It's buffet-style, kickass authentic Korean food. And of course, buffet style means all you can eat, which is music to my hungry ears. The food changes every day. It's always good, but my favorite day is sweet and sour pork day. I like to do it China Gourmet style, and throw my pork over my rice, then cover it in sweet and sour sauce. So that's what I proceeded to do. But, as soon as I started loading pork on my rice, one of the cafeteria workers ran up. She started scolding me in Korean, and using tongs to take my pork off of my rice and put it onto an empty section of my tray. I tried to explain to her that I liked my pork on my rice, but she was not having it. So I waited til I got back to my seat, and then moved the pork back onto my rice, the whole time looking over my shoulder to see if she was watching. It made me feel like a five year old taking extra cookies when mom wasn't looking.
But enough about my inability to go to another country and speak their language. Let's talk culture.
You guys remember the SAT's right? Oh man. That test got no love. Well, high school seniors in Korea need to take a similar test they refer to as "the Korean SAT." But I feel like that is slightly misleading. Misleading how, you ask? Let me draw you an analogy. The American SAT's are to the Korean SAT's as BB guns are to rocket launchers. I know some kids in America "study" for the SAT, but not like this. Students graduate high school and then study FOR A YEAR for this test. And if they don't do well, they will just STUDY FOR ANOTHER YEAR AND THEN TAKE IT AGAIN. That's right, no school. Just studying. For one test. For one year. Holy crap.
What's on this test? Well, you pretty much need to have to have memorized all of Korean history, and there's a lot of it. Also, you have to be skilled in university level mathematics. Stuff like multi-variable calculus. Are you getting scared yet? Then there's a death defying Korean language section. And of course, the foreign language section, the two major choices being English and Chinese. More on that in a bit. But this test works in the same way as our SAT's. You want to go to Seoul National University (Korea's Harvard), well then you best get above the top 99.7 percentile. And if your brother went there and your father went there, you best go there too. If you don't, it can be very shameful. Saying the pressure's on would be an understatement.
However, there is an upside. No matter how you do on the test, you get a certificate saying you took it. This certificate is good for 50% off any plastic surgery procedure you want, anywhere in Korea.
Let me state for all of you who think I'm being cute, that the preceding statement was completely true.
And as for the language test, I don't know too much about the Chinese, but the English section is horribly flawed. Not to say our SAT's don't have some (countless) problems, but let me break it down for you. I tutor a fifteen year old girl. Her English is great, dancing somewhere between advanced and fluent. Sure she messes up here and there, but I've talked with a fair amount of fifteen year olds in Gwang-ju and their English isn't even in the same ballpark as her's.
So why bring her up? Well, in her "English" classes at public school, they are just drilled on vocabulary and grammar. There is no speaking, no sort of comprehension, no understanding. What does this translate to? Well, she's an "average" student in her class. But I guarantee 95% of the kids in her class couldn't read or discuss the books she does with me, let alone have the conversations we have. However, these kids know words the vast majority of native English speakers do not. Like the word "apotheosis." No, don't feel bad. Go ahead. Look it up. The blog will be here when you get back.
But I love having class with her. She's a typical (maniacal) fifteen year old girl: she can't trust any of her friends and all she cares about is being super pretty. One day, we were having a conversation about a book we were reading. One of the messages was "you should try to see the good in everything and everyone." I asked her if she always saw the good in everyone, if she liked everyone.
She responded. "Yes, I like everyone." Then paused, thought about it for a second, and said. "Except the fat one."
And we're back to the superficiality. Thank God.
But let's stop focusing on the bad. Let's talk about Korean weddings. That's right, I went to a Korean wedding. I was invited by Alex Kim, my Kumdo brother, to watch his cousin tie the knot. Never before have I been so entertained and confused at a wedding ceremony. Much to tell. Allow me to break it up.
Pre-wedding: So, Korean weddings are quick and dirty jobs. Everyone gets married on days considered to be lucky, and many couples flock to the same marriage halls. While waiting for each wedding to start, it is a little chaotic. Lots of people in the waiting area, moving around, taking pictures. There are only about three things you can really do in the pre-wedding: talk to people, take pictures of the bride, or look at the viewbook. Since I don't speak Korean well and didn't know anyone really, number one was out. As for the bride, she was mobbed. Everyone was snapping photos of her. She was lovely, posing on this white thrown in a white wedding dress, in this plush pink room. But there were too many relatives around to snap pictures, so I took a gander at the viewbook. Now, in America, we know most people have wedding photo albums. But they get those after the wedding. Forget that. This is Korea. They do their albums before.
To fully describe their albums, or viewbooks, is an exercise in futility. There is just too much to say. I guess the best way to describe them is to say they look like a montage from a romantic comedy. In all the pictures, the couple is laughing or dancing or pointing at each other from opposite sides of a park bench or sitting in a computer chair together, half-falling and not caring, with her in her wedding dress and him in his suit. Sounds corny right? Now usually, I would agree. I don't normally dig such cutesy things, but for some reason, I got a kick out of the Korean viewbook. It was kinda nice, kinda funny. Maybe it was because they looked really in love. Maybe it's because he's a doctor and she's a nurse and it painted a good story of that. I don't know. But either way, when I met the groom, Alex's cousin, I had to tell him I liked the viewbook. "Thank you, but it's not real," he responded.
I was confused. He went onto explain that all the pictures are digitally enhanced. Not just blemishes removed, but people are actually made taller, slimmer, curvier, stronger, better teeth, etc.than they are in real life. And for whatever reason, that made me a little sad. Until the wedding started.
The Wedding: The wedding was just like an American one, except totally different (and in some ways, better). First of all, the whole ceremony is in Korean (surprise!) and because of that I have no idea what was said. But here's what I could gather.
Before the groom walks up to the altar/marriage stage, he yells something at the top of his lungs. It's on a case by case basis what he actually says. Something like "I LOVE THIS WOMAN AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!" or "SHE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WORLD!" or "SHE IS MY KIM-CHI!" or pretty much whatever they want to say really. Either way, I thought that was very cool and should be adopted by all cultures.
Sure, there were a few too many pictures taken during the ceremony, but I could get over that because of the singing and the feats of strength. Singing and feats of strength? Yes, both are as cool as they sound. In Korean weddings, it's customary for the bride, groom, and any friends and family of their choosing, to serenade the couple with a song. The best part is, it's not about singing ability. I know this because, when the groom sang to his new wife, he really belted it out, and not in the good way. His high notes sounded like a pre-pubescent boy screeching. But you could tell it came from the heart, and it almost made it better that he was kind of a crappy singer.
And as for the feats of strength, there is a tradition where the groom has to essentially do squats with the bride on his back while he counts out loud and, after each number, she says "tonight, we just go to bed." Draw your own conclusions. I found it hilarious.
Then at the end, they take a whole bunch more pictures (I was in one!) and the bride and groom get shot with a confetti cannon the size of a bazooka. I am very sorry I missed a photo opportunity of that one.
The Second Wedding?: But that's not where the fun ends, sportsfans. Afterwards, there's a traditional ceremony where the bride, groom, and their parents, dress up in Hanboks (the traditional Korean clothing). There, in front of family, they act as god and goddess in a scene that can only be described as looking like a Eastern Style painting. Truly beautiful, beautiful stuff.
Then the parents throw fruit for the children to catch in a blanket, thus giving hope for a fruitful marriage. A very unique tradition for sure, and one I am a very big fan of. A good meshing of past and present.
The Buffet: Of course, no wedding would be complete without an enormous buffet and afternoon beers. So - Korean weddings, not really that different after all.
Otherwise, that is all I got for you beautiful people today.
Oh, except I fractured my foot. Sword fighting. I know, I know. But, no one said the life of a ninja was easy. I'll be rocking a neon green cast for the next four weeks. So, when you see my smiling face back in mi-guk (America) in 12 days, I'll have a little extra swagger in my step. Some might call it a limp. Either way, ladies, I promise, you'll love it.
I miss and love you all and will see you all very, very, VERY soon.
-The Hobbling Ninja
