It doesn't happen often, but I am in a reflective mood. The reason it doesn't happen often is because, I have recently been discovering (well, in the shower this morning anyway, during which I simultaneously, during my final hairwash, ran out of shampoo and conditioner - coincidence? I don't think so) I'm slowly losing the ability to think of anything further out of the box than whether the cat is on the box, under the box or behind the box. The reason it is happening on this particular Thursday afternoon is because tomorrow evening I will be on a plane to Tokyo and then, after a night in the lap of luxury at the airline's expense, on to Heathrow.
So, I've been spending more time pondering than packing: people and places, past and present, my great big non-existent plan for the future of my career, three weeks of roast dinners and proper tea, and where that last white russian came from last night. Most people don't appreciate the subtle difference between pondering and thinking, but in my opinion it is this: whereas one thinks with the hope of reaching a definite conclusion, pondering is more like turning thoughts over in your head for the sheer enjoyment of it. Rather like playing with a Rubik's Cube when you know some twat's changed all the stickers around. Nevertheless, like an unexpected side of reds, some conclusions are an inevitable by-product of the whole process.
Firstly, in my year here I have encountered all kinds of hospitality and generosity. Aside from the everyday kindness at work (particularly from my boss, Sue, who has been amazing), I have been bought dozens of drinks and meals, and showered with gifts on several occasions. I have walked into classrooms to find sweets and biscuits on my desk literally hundreds of times. I have not once been threatened or aggravated, at least not by a Korean. I'll never forget the man in Tapgol Park who missed an appointment to spend 45 minutes tracking us down to tell us that he had given us directions to the wrong park. All in all, I have been treated extremely well.
But this wouldn't be Eastern Seoul without a cynical rant.
You see, the problem is that, no matter how much kindness you experience in Korea, you will never, ever be treated as an equal. You could be born and educated in Korea, speak the language fluently, and be familiar with the entirety of Korean history and culture, but as long as one of your parents is not Korean, you are and always will be waegugin - foreigner. Ostensibly, South Korea wants to be a major international player. It has a tiger economy, a booming technology sector, an extremely heavy American military presence, a very respectable presence in world sports, and a huge and (theoretically) successful English teaching industry. So far, so Asian.
But they don't want foreigners. Oh no. No way. Foreigners are decadent and take drugs. Foreigners corrupt their children. Foreigners steal their women. Foreigners (as illustrated by the blood donation vampires who immediately give whities the brush-off) have AIDS.
Koreans, on the other hand, buy Korean cars, give the best jobs to other Koreans (preferably blood relations of course), and can rant for hours about Korea's superiority over other nations in even the most ridiculous and petty respects. In fact - and I can picture one such ranter whom I know's face slowly turning purple over this - is there really so much difference between this attitude and the North Korean Juche ("Self-Reliance") Ideal?
The root of this issue is, I believe, a crisis in national identity. Throughout my stay here I have identified five distinct time-warps in which Korea is currently immovably wedged. If you can be wedged in a warp, that is. I'll take them in chronological order.
1 - Some time during the Choson Dynasty.
Despite the fact that this could mean any point in Korean history between 1392 and 1910, all Koreans fondly remember a time when men were men, women were subordinate and Confucius still loomed large in the national memory. People here love to say "we are Confucian society," with all the pomp of a Choson king and without any recognition of the implications for modern
society. Confucianism dictates that women are inferior to men, that marriage is a practical rather than a romantic notion, that unmarried adults should remain at home with a curfew, and that one cannot call somebody a friend unless they are the exact same age. In all other cases, respect for your elders is obligatory, no matter the size of the age difference, or how much of a fucking idiot they might be. All of these traditions persist today.
2 - The Eighteenth Century (England).
As those of you who stayed awake in History class, or, like me, fell asleep regularly and filled in the gaps years later with Cliff Notes when the Internet arrived, the Seventeenth Century in England was a pretty ugly hundred years. On top of a pan-European military free-for-all, we had plagues, fires, a civil war, and Shakespeare. After all that, everyone fancied a bit of a rest. So, politics was born, and instead of saying what they really meant, or declaring war on rival Protestant factions because they were wearing unholy charcoal-grey cassocks instead of the 50% grey ones favoured by the Lord, people learned to bottle it all up and develop severe personality disorders. Social mobility and the middle classes were born. Ladies had leisure, and suddenly everyone had to learn to keep up with everyone else. Three hundred years and thousands of miles away, the same thing is coming into being in South Korea. It's all just a little bit of history repeating.
3 - The 1950's.
Amongst the teachers I know, there is an ongoing debate - is Korea on the cusp of a cultural revolution? Will next summer be the Summer of Love? I don't know how long this debate has been going on, probably decades, but the signs are all there. Thousands of young Koreans who don't want to go to bed at 11pm, angry letters in the papers from parents upset because they
caught their son listening to unwholesome music, and the rest of it. One of these days the kids are going to discover pot. Now that will be interesting.
4 - The 1980's.
This is just a fashion thing. The Koreans don't do revivals by halves. Think jelly shoes, leg-warmers and fluorescent stripes.
5 - The year 2275.
Ever seen Minority Report? Screens everywhere, utter clutter, advertising on every available surface (introducing: ad-plastered handrails on escalators!), inanimate objects that talk to you. And everything, everything, plays a little tune. From the "sproinkle" sound my remote controlled air-con makes when you turn it on to the entire minuet emitted by my Samsung
washing machine when it completes its cycle. Koreans love their tunes. Even the ECC bell is based on the chimes of Big Ben.
So, it is with a great mixture of emotions that I bid farewell to this weird and exciting city. But it's not over yet. Not by a long shot. I'm heading home for a few weeks, finally going to get me one of them front teeth that everyone seems to have these days (for those who don't know, mine was knocked out a year and a half ago on the mean streets of Fallowfield in Manchester), and then a week at my parents' pad in southern Spain. After that, I'll be making my way to Italy to teach, upon which Eastern Seoul will no doubt ramble on, though probably under a different guise.
Watch this space.
