Long time, no see. Much to discuss. My hiatus has been largely due to the fascist GRE’s and their inexorable vocabulary word bank (on the plus side, I now know a bunch of words that I will never, ever use). But all that’s over and we can get down to the best part of life: inflicting severe pain on loved ones on their wedding night.
Some Korean traditions are based in history, others in culture or religion, but this one is sheerly about fun. Or masochism. Whatever floats your boat. According to Korean culture, on the night of his entrance into matrimony, the man’s feet must be cleaned. While this sounds like the set up to a dirty joke your alcoholic uncle would tell you, I assure you, it’s something much, much more awesome.
The official English word for it is “bastinado,” the practice of beating someone’s feet to cause pain, often an effective torture technique (because it leaves little bruising). This is known as “cleaning the feet” in Korea, whereas people pay the groom money in order to get a good whack in on the feet. The more money you pay, the more pain you get to give him. Spend a dollar (cheon won), you can slap his feet with your hand. Throw down twenty bones (e-man won) you can use something that resembles a wooden cane. And while it’s undoubtedly hilarious, it’s slowly being phased out, mainly because in rare cases it causes broken bones and even death. However, those still brave and stupid enough love the practice.
Seen HERE:
Also as a side note, one website I went to claims the traditional tool in which to beat them with is “Dried Yellow Corvina.” For those of you who were as baffled as I was, do a Google search. Yup, that’s right. Tradition states beating feet with dried fish meat. Oh yeah. Bring on the fishy fun.
Speaking of food, it turns out no one knows what the hell Chinese food is. Now I’ve eaten Chinese food in America, Korea, and China (where of course, they just call it food) and no one can agree as to what Chinese food is. In America, as we all know, it’s usually fried. Often it’s saturated delicious in sauce, moderate on spice, and comes with a cookie at the end with either profound advice or something along the lines of “you like Chinese food” (God, I hate that fortune). The Korean’s go-to Chinese dish is call ja-jal-mein, which is a combination of potatoes, meat, and vegetables, in a salty black sauce that has the consistency of sludge, served over noodles. Think Beef Stroganoff, and then make it Koreany. And then, in my trip to China a year ago, I saw food that resembled none of the above. What I found were super oily, super spicy dishes, featuring strange animals and ineffable flavors.
But, my general consensus is that, while no one really can say what Chinese food is, no matter where you go, it’s the bee’s knees.
Now, I’m not one to hate on religion. But if there’s one thing about this country that I just can’t stand , it’s all those damn Buddhists.
Just kidding. How could you not love Buddha?
But there is one group that angers me. Let me paint you an all too common picture to the foreigners of this fair land. You’re somewhere public, a park on a beautiful sunny day, or chilling on the beach, trying to add a shred of color to that pasty white skin, when all of a sudden, a smoking hot Korean girl runs up to you and says, “Hello!” Now, if you’re me, this is not an uncommon situation, because, well, I mean, we’ve all seen me. But this could happen to anyone, even those of us who aren’t potential models (though that modeling agency still hasn’t called me back....). Regardless, it seems like a little slice of heaven - nice location, super hotty girl starts talking to you in perfect English, so you’re apt to pay attention.
But, often times, the conversation goes down like this:
SUPER HOT BABE: “Hello!”
FOREIGN DUDE: “Well hello to you...”(I know that sounded smooth, I know it did!)
SUPER HOT BABE: “What are you up to?”
FOREIGN DUDE: “Just enjoying the weather.”(and trying like hell not to mess this up...)
SUPER HOT BABE: “Do you want to play together for a little while?”
FOREIGN DUDE: “Play? Sure! I LOVE playing!”(easy tiger, relax, don’t scare her off...)
SUPER HOT BABE: “Can we talk?”
FOREIGN DUDE: “Yeah! We can talk about anything!”(especially if it involves marrying you!)
SUPER HOT BABE: “Great! Let’s talk about if you’ve accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior!”
FOREIGN DUDE: “Damn....” (Jehovah’s...)
Yes, ladies and germs, Jehovah’s Witnesses in Korea are a far more evolved state of the religion. No, they don’t need to go to your door. They can attack with their pamphlets in a much more seductive vehicle: hotties. And my God, I don’t know where they went to school, but their English is flawless. I gotta give them credit, their methods are improving.
And speaking of religion, the Korean word for pockets is “ju-mon-ee.” Say it slow. Ah, the anti-Semitism.
In other news, my kumdo (sword fighting) skills are developing nicely. For any of you familiar with the video game genre RPG (Role-Playing-Game), it kind of resembles that. Each time I go, I gain experience. I learn new attacks, new defense moves. I can string along combination attacks now, fake attacks, and can even do this gnarly thing where I cut at the wrists to get the person to raise their hands up, thus revealing their torso, and then slice them in half across the waist, finishing with only one hand on the sword. Badass. I’m getting faster, stronger, and above all, smarter with my kumdo. And the best part is, when I do well, my master (fellow gamers, get ready) looks at me, gives me the thumbs up, and says “LEVEL UP!”
I’m not joking.
If I keep up my skills and my progress, I can become a black belt before I leave in November. Ninja progress.
But I’m not all jokes today. Long overdue is my explanation of 5/18, a day recently celebrated in Korea. In a previous post I mentioned it, but I did not quite understand what it was at that time.
It is neither Independence Day nor Patriots Day, yet there is some of both of those in it. 5/18 commemorates May 18th, 1980, in my fair city of Gwang-ju. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
In the aftermath of the Korean War, the country was struggling. Things with the North were bad (surprise) but the real problems the South faced came from within their own country. Struggling between a democracy and a military dictatorship came to a head when the President Park-Chung-hee was assassinated in a coup, masterminded by General Chun Doo-hwan and Roe Tae-Woo in 1979. The result? Martial law. Lock-downs everywhere. Chun Doo-hwan took over and made sure he was calling the shots.
Meanwhile, the Jeolla region (where Gwangju is located) was enraged. Jelloa citizens, especially those of Gwangju, are known for two things: food and political activism. The extremely fertile region makes the people generous and well fed, and likewise gives them that political “don’t tread on me” attitude. This came into severe conflict over the eighteen years when Park-Chung-hee was in power. During his presidency, he made a point to slight the Jeolla people whenever he got a chance. And now, in the months following his assassination, things didn’t get better, they got worse. So the university students, in the ensuing months, took to the streets, protesting for their God-given rights to freedom.
Chun Doo-hwan was not having any of this. Gwangju was the thorn in his dictatorial paw, especially because it was the home to the well-loved Kim Dae-Jung, who was on the forefront of the Korean liberation movement. Arrests were made, including Kim Dae-Jung (who later managed to escape and flee the country) and universities were shut down. Paratroopers were stationed to ensure order in the grotesquely titled “Operation Fantastic Vacation.” Chun Doo-hwan thought he had licked the Gwangju people. They were just getting started.
On May 18th, a standoff between the protesters, now in the hundreds, and the paratroopers reached a breaking point. The soldiers attacked the protesters with clubs, the students fought back with rocks. The tension rose when a deaf man was killed by paratroopers, resulting in thousands of protestors flooding the streets.
Over the next three days, Gwangju was transformed. As more and more soldiers poured into the streets, the community united. Over ten thousand began protesting, trying to relinquish the army’s stranglehold of Jeolla. When the paratroopers began firing on citizens, they fought back. Many police sided with the protesters, and the stations that didn’t were raided for guns and ammunition. Buses and taxis attempted to form a barricade in the city. A civil war had begun.
In response, Chun Doo-hwan cut of the city’s communication. No phones. No mail. No communication with the outside world. Foreign reporters who tried to cover the story were shot at by military personnel. The government’s “official" reports claimed unsubstantiated riots in Gwangju, where civilians were brutally killing military officials for no reason. And that’s exactly what the world heard. Jeolla province was alone.
Learning about what happened next filled me with a multitude of feelings. I was likewise appaulled and moved, I lamented and rejoiced the events of May, 1980. Visiting the national monument, witnessing the history, the museum, the documentary, I found myself overwrought at four revelations: one about country, one about people, one about battle, and one about truth.
About country: Learning of 5/18 filled me with a profound shame. Why shame? Why should I feel bad? Chun Doo-hwan may have been in charge of Korea, but he answered to a higher authority: the United States. Following the Korean War, America kept Korea on a tight leash. But, fearing another anti-American uprising, the U.S.A. not only sanctioned Chun Doo-hwan’s siege of Gwangju, we told them how to do it. The strategy for eradicating freedom in South Korea came from the minds of the American government. We even gave it the gut-wrenching name Operation Fantastic Vacation. America had the final say in what went down, and we sided with the Chun Doo-hwan’s malevolent force.
About people: While Chun Doo-hwan’s army were documented as having brutalized and tortured the people (including throwing bound naked people into farms of red ants), many of his men didn’t want to be there. Some were even from Gwangju. Despite the constant fighting, many allowed doctors and nurses to take the wounded into hospitals to treat them. They were not some great evil, though perhaps their leader was.
Perhaps even more amazing were the denizens of Gwangju, and what they created: The People’s Liberation Army. Composed mostly of university students and other young people, they ruled Jeolla for the ensuing week. But yet, in the absence of government, there was no chaos. Not a single bank was looted, no stores were broken into. Rather, the whole city came together. People came into the streets in numbers that are estimated in the hundred thousands. Despite the economic noose on Jeolla, restaurants, grocery stores, and old women gave what food they had at no cost to the People’s Liberation Army. Citizens lined up to donate blood. There were speeches and rallies where people spoke of great hope for democracy. And the People’s Liberation Army was hailed as heroes everywhere they went in Jeolla. They demanded no power, only peace and community.
About battle: After the week of skirmishes and the rule of the People’s Liberation Army, the uprising was extirpated. Rebels were imprisoned or killed and the city fell. The full force of the Korean Army proved to be too much. Chun Doo-hwan assumed power, and soon became president. The national monument is home to the graves of over a hundred people who gave their lives that day, but the true monument, nearby, has the real numbers. The Gwangju People’s Monument, as it’s called, contains a graveyard where the casualties number in the thousands.
About truth: How can we celebrate an uprising that was defeated? Because Korea is a hallmark example of the power of truth. Over the years following, the country’s trust in Chun Doo-hwan diminished. Slowly, truth was revealed. The people demanded a freely elected government, and the hero of freedom, Kim Dae-jung, was elected president some decade and a half later. Most Koreans hail him as the greatest president they’ve ever had. In 1996, he put Chun Doo-hwan on trial for war crimes. In 2000, he was given the Nobel Peace Prize.
What I find so amazing about all this is that it happened only thirty-one years ago. People close to me experienced so many of these things. My friend’s mother was shot at on the street. My Korean teacher remembers the old women handing out rice cakes and cheering on the People’s Liberation Army. My priest’s best friend was killed in the uprising and was perhaps the largest factor in his ordination. And yet, from that point, Korea has gone over an economic boom whose speed unrivaled by any other country in the history of the world.
Hope I didn’t make the mood too heavy for you, my reader. I’ll leave you on that. I miss and love you all.
-Heavy Guy
