Seven months into my Korean adventure I’m facing one of the harshest (from my perspective) realities of expatriate life: bidding farewell to other transient expats when our foreign journeys diverge. This week I escorted my good friend Jessica to Incheon International Airport where she departed Korea after a nearly five-year tenure as a Seoul sister.
As Jessica took off into the skies, heading ultimately for Canada where she will pursue a career in economic and community development, I felt like my own flight was commencing. Walking away from her after our last hug goodbye, I could practically hear the cheesy, upbeat, “You can do it!” music playing in my head as I imagined myself a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Jessica showed me the ropes during my first seven months in this country and now I’m being set free to see how I do on my own.
The last couple weeks have been a frenzy of emotion, awaiting Jessica’s imminent departure and thinking about how much my routine will change one she’s gone. Watching a friend go has never been quite this difficult because there have always been other friends or family to turn to. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t really have other good friends in Korea. Part of that is my own fault; not taking the time amid a busy work schedule and other things I need and want to do to get out and meet more people. But in the opportunities I have taken to socialize with new and varied groups, I’ve found that it’s very difficult to find people with whom I relate. Most foreign English speakers around my age in Seoul are here spreading their wings, not taking their job (which is usually teaching English) all that seriously, and living the kind of lifestyle I left back in the Champaign-Urbana campustown. Few 25 year-old expatriates are pursuing what I’d call a career in Seoul. I’m here as a professional, doing something I’ve been preparing and training for since before the age of 18. At first, even Jessica had a difficult time understanding why I won’t be able to leave Korea without my next career move solidly in place. So, it’s not difficult to find fellow Americans or English speakers, but beyond the casual niceties of conversational banter, I find our mindsets are often worlds apart. This is why meeting someone like Jessica, who was so fervently preparing herself for a similar chapter in her life, was fortuitous. That’s also why it’s so hard to see her go. I can just hear my Dad say, “Well, when you decide to live half-way around the world in a foreign country, you have be prepared to deal with things like this. You aren’t there permanently, and chances are, the people you befriend aren’t either.”
It sounds very strange to say, “I need to start looking for a new friend.” As someone who has, thankfully, never been at a loss for close friends, shopping for a new one is unchartered territory. I keep thinking about all the times I’ve urged my single friends in pursuit of love to, “Just go hang out at a coffee shop! You’re bound to meet someone there!” Now I’m finding it’s easier said than done, even when you’re only looking for friendship. During a recent visit to Starbucks the only English conversations I overheard were either incessant, bitter railings about Korea (for which I have no patience—if you don’t like it, leave!) and a discussion which included the misogynous proclamation, “You show me the most beautiful woman in the world and I’ll show you a guy who’s tired of putting up with her sh@&!” Charming. Maybe we should be friends and go out for Korean BBQ together.
The good news is, as the spring weather draws people to the streets like ants spilling from a hill, it’s a good time to explore the city, learn a few new bus routes, and keep my eyes and ears perked for potential friends. I could always start out with the line, “You show me the most handsome man in the world and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Chris, one of my best friends since age 10, and me in Honolulu. That's Waikiki in the background
My Dad and me in Honolulu before our flight to Kauai
My home for the week!
Chris tests the water
Kauai has gorgeous plant life
Cocktail hour!
First stop, a greasy spoon for a juicy, American beefy hamburger! 
Many areas of Seoul offer a menagerie of architectural designs. The tall concrete apartment buildings are everywhere, of course, but tucked in between them it’s not uncommon to see humble brick structures, modern high-rises with glass facades, or even a gaudy imitation of a fairytale castle. It’s no surprise the random castle-looking ones have caught my eye. They’re wedding halls, and many of them are adorned with massive banners with photos of larger than life couples in Western wedding attire looking blissfully happy. Think titivated Las Vegas chapel nuzzled between city banks, Starbucks, and fitness centers. Some wedding halls are less flamboyant, but they’re also easy to miss among other nondescript structures. After noticing a wide variety of these establishments, I started to wonder how wedding culture in Korea differs from what I’ve experienced in the Western world. It’s obvious based on the advertisements that many Koreans are at least dressing like Westerners when they say, “I do,” but how did the wedding convention centers become the standard venue for matrimony? Unfortunately, I haven’t done the research necessary to answer that question, but I’d venture to guess the blending of cultural traditions, often calling for two weddings in one, has something to do with it. It takes a lot of work to pull off a fancy, Western-style wedding piggybacked by a detailed Korean ceremony, but in a convention center environment staffed with quick, efficient, walkie-talkie carrying wedding professionals, it runs like clockwork. Last weekend I had a chance to feed my curiosity when my KBS co-host, Matt, invited me as his guest to a wedding. The event took place in the affluent Seoul district of Gangnam, so the wedding convention hall looked more like a convention center and less like the fortresses of love that can be seen near my neighborhood. We arrived late, but probably only missed one of three or four walks down the aisle by the happy couple. The bride and groom were wearing Western wedding wear when we showed up, and we either missed the exchange of vows or there never was one. Rather than pews or seating you’d find in a church, the big, square room was set up like a reception hall with round tables for eight crowded with serving ware, bottles of various beverages, and Korean candies. Running down the center of the room was an aisle covered in white fabric and slightly elevated. As the bride and groom took one jaunt after another up and down the aisle, smoke machines and colored lights surrounded them and short snippets of popular love songs played back-to-back through the sound system. I confirmed later that the bride and groom specifically chose the Celine Dion number, a non-Beatles version of “All You Need is Love” and one other catchy, sappy tune. As the earnestly methodical wedding hall staff guided the couple through a series of ceremony musts—cutting the cake, pouring a champagne fountain, greeting guests—Matt pointed out that the entire system seemed set up to accommodate the corresponding photo shoot. As the bride and groom were ushered from the cake station to the champagne station to the arch of love, professional photographers and videographers were right there, capturing every Kodak moment this wedding factory cranked out. Wedding guests chomped away on a multi-course meal while the staff put the couple and their parents through the paces. Once the couple had shown off both their Western and traditional Korean outfits (hanbok) and personally greeted every guest (see picture above), the place cleared out and family and close friends (and me) joined the couple in a cozier room where they conducted Korean wedding rituals. Matt and I couldn’t help but comment to one another about how exhausting the whole process seemed, but once the Korean ritual photo shoot was over, around 7:00pm, it appeared the festivities were complete. From a Western perspective, I’d say the fast tempo of the event, coupled with the wedding factory feel, diminished the warm and fuzzy feelings most weddings leave illicit. That’s probably just my impression, however, and there were certainly many people there who seemed to be experiencing something along the spectrum of warm and fuzzy. Now I’m anxious to see what kind of celebration goes down in the castle-like structures. According to Matt, I just might see wedding hall employees dressed like circus stagehands, blowing confetti from the bells of trumpets as the newlywed couple exits the hall (description based on true events!).
The newlyweds (photo credit: Matt Kelley)
In traditional Korean hanbok
Matt and I pose with the proud mother of the groom
Fellow University of Illinois journalism alumna, Nicole Pegues, visited KBS today. Nicole is a graduate of UIUC's print journalism program ('04) and went on to receive a master's degree in magazine publishing from Northwestern University's Medill School of Jouranlism. I hadn't seen Nicole for several years, so her visit was a nice blast from the past. Although our paths didn't cross too often in college (she was a print journalism major, yours truly a broadcast student), the connection we share offered a surreal feeling as I showed her around KBS. Thanks for stopping by, Nicole!
Just before his meeting with President Bush at Camp David last month, South Korean President Lee Myung-bak announced his government's plan to re-open markets to U.S. beef imports by the end of May. The announcement has stirred intense controversy in Korea where many believe the president is acting recklessly with only U.S. interests in mind. The U.S. government has made the opening of the Korean market to U.S. beef a condition in ratifying the Korea-U.S. Free Trade Agreement. Korea and U.S. beef have had a rocky relationship for several years. Koreans, in general, are very concerned about mad cow disease, so a few confirmed cases in the States have them shying away from U.S. beef with the skepticism most Americans would have for dog soup. Mad cow disease and the human strain of the virus aside, many Koreans are also worried about the impact U.S. beef imports will have on farmers in this country. Not only will cattle farmers feel a pinch, but some say prices of domestic pork will drop, too, once cheaper U.S beef is available to consumers. The country is in the middle of a 20-day public feedback period regarding the issue and the public is certainly taking the opportunity to express its views. This week candlelight vigils have been the medium of protest, with well-attended events taking place across the nation. I stopped by one near KBS Tuesday evening where an estimated 10,000 demonstrators rallied peacefully.
Many media reports have mentioned the prevalence of middle and high school-aged kids showing up at the vigils. The kids say they're protesting the import of U.S. beef because if the markets are indeed fully opened, their school cafeterias will opt for cheaper American beef over the homegrown variety.
I wondered how well my white face would be received by the demonstrators, since some people have speculated that the controversy over beef imports has caused an anti-American sentiment among some Koreans. These two girls didn't seem anti-Abby, at least!
