Korean Journal by Richard Ganahl

KOREAN JOURNAL RICHARD J GANAHL

Where East Meets West. Richard Ganahl, Published in Press-Enterprise PA, February 2003 (1 of 9) It’s my family’s first morning in Seoul, South Korea, and my mind is foggy. We left Bloomsburg 48 hours ago, and won’t return for 5 months. I have absolutely no idea what time, or even what day, it is. What’s more, every part of my body aches and refuses to move without a struggle. My wife, 4-year old daughter and myself have traveled 7,000 miles from our home. The westward direction of our adventure has kept us continuously in the light of day. The uninterrupted daylight, the 14-hour time difference, and the lack of sleep cloud my mind regarding time. The body aches are tougher to figure. I’ve heaved, hoisted, shoved, stacked, dragged, and kicked 12 overstuffed bags throughout the day. The large, blackcanvassed “immigrant bags” are limited to 70 pounds, and we have 5 of them plus a travel golf bag packed to its FAMILY DINING

70-pound limit. Our 6 carry-on bags are

stuffed to the 42-inch limit (w x h x d) with every last-minute-item you can think of at 4:15 a.m. on the morning of departure. And did I mention our daughter’s violin and her car seat? Maybe I can trace the aches to the contortions my body has endured. Not counting the 14 hours on the plane and the 6 hours on the highways, my body has not known a traditional Western-style chair or bed. Our mealtimes, our home time and our sleep-time are all enjoyed from our apartment’s heated floors. Try it sometime. A warmed, wooden floor is incredibly comfortable and casual. A gathering of family and friends sharing food and stories around a low

styled Asian dining table creates a primal, tribal-like intimacy. Our sleeping futons are thick, soft and warm. But take it from me, our Western-styled bodies are not made for this floor-based living. It always seems that a foot sticks out, a leg won’t bend, or that a mid-waist bulge won’t fold. My wife assures me, though, my body will adjust over time to the Koreanstyle environment. Besides, she says, look at the bright side: you never have to get up for anything! Want something from the fridge? Just slide across the floor and get it. Hey on second thought, this may be fun! Adjusting to our new Korean home looms largest on our to-do list. Everything in our life is different. Most different is the pace of life.

Seoul has 14 million people, more than twice the people in New York City. Not only are there more people, they move twice as fast. Think

EATING OUT

about it, twice the number of New Yorkers moving twice as fast: the pace gets hectic quickly. Everything is designed for quick bursts of energy. Watch out for the elevator doors! These faster-than-American doors have caught our arm or a leg more than once! Traffic in Seoul moves at incredible speeds. The smaller cars (some are mere boxes with no hoods or trunk space) dart about quickly. Even the large city busses are nimble in noon traffic. No one walks to the bus, they trot, oftentimes with a cellular phone at their ear. These cellular talks are ceaseless. People cell-talk while walking, driving,

shopping, eating, resting. They even cell-talk while face-talking with someone else! Koreans seem built for this new millennium pace. Their minds are quick, their bodies lithe, and their intentions direct. No time is wasted on unnecessary movements. Everyone and everything is in a constant state of motion. And it’s a special kind of motion: light, fluid and graceful. Mundane tasks like cooking, counting money or directing traffic are performed with precision and a flair of poetic passion. Koreans seem genuinely enthusiastic about, and engaged in their lives. Whether they’re driving a cab, sweeping a street, or cleaning a restaurant table they appear to enjoy it, really. What’s more, they act as if what they’re doing is noble and will lead them to a better place: they’re less trapped by the present, and more driven by the future. They add a sense of dignity to these jobs not often seen in America. And who am I to say they’re wrong? Frankly, their passion and confidence is a refreshing contrast to western cynicism and detachment. And North Korea? All Koreans have an opinion about their neighbor, and they’re very willing to share it. Few, though, seem obsessively worried. Maybe it’s denial, but they seem to live their lives confident it will be resolved. Commenting on the number of Koreans, my daughter said, “Dad, there sure are a lot of Koreans here.” And you know what? She’s right: there are a lot of Koreans here! What’s more, there are few (very few) non-Asian foreigners. While, I’m not an anthropologist or a political scientist, I include in this category Africans, Europeans, Canadians, Americans, South and Central Americans. On several days, I’ve seen more non-Asian advertising models on department store posters than I’ve seen non-Asians in person. Certainly, there are areas of Korea with non-Asian populations (American military bases, some shopping districts). However, most of Korea is for Koreans. And this seems unusual. After all, I’ve lived in Bloomsburg for the last 9 years, and we know,

Bloomsburg is for Bloomsburgers (white, once-European, Christians). But now, my daughter and I are the different ones. We know it, and the Koreans know it. Many look, some stare, and a few looks unabashedly at our differences. However, none seem angered, suspicious, or threatened by them. And, this also seems unusual, because, all to often in our home country differences are threatening. But here, our differences seem to be treated with innocent curiosity. Korea’s hospitality is gracious, and its sense of humor quick and often. We’ve experienced absolutely no anti-American reactions. And so our Korean adventure begins. I know there are challenges ahead. For now, though, we stand ready to meet them. Editor’s Note: Richard Ganahl was a visiting professor at Yonsei University in Seoul, South Korea. He, his wife Suh Sang Suk, a former Korean journalist and daughter Irene lived in Korea through June 2003.

SLEEP OVER WITH HALMONIE

My First Night Out By Richard Ganahl, March 2003 (2 of 9) I should have been more prepared. Grant, a college-aged English teacher from Canada, had warned me. Peering through his black, Onassis-like glasses he cautioned, “they like to get close. Sometimes they hug you, and squeeze your arms or hands as they talk to you. It makes me uncomfortable.” And he was right: they like to get close. Seated next to me in the corner booth of the darkened karaoke lounge was a male, Korean professor from my department. His right arm was wrapped around my shoulder as his left hand rubbed my right hand. His head was bent to my left ear as he tried to talk over the music. We were hardly alone. Six students shared our booth, and more than a dozen and a half were seated at other tables. Several students and two

KOREAN GUY HUG

professors were gaily singing a Korean version of Billy Joel’s “Honesty.” My colleague continued his hugs, and implored my help in improving his English. There was nothing sexual about his touches. This father of two was only expressing his friendship. Somehow, sitting among the good-natured, quick-to-laugh Koreans it seemed natural. While public display of affection between genders is strongly discouraged in Korea, same gender physical contact is common. This is quite different from our Western practices. In Korea, women hold hands, lock arms, and hug shoulders with their

female friends. Their contact is entirely innocent, and seems natural. Men are less frequent in their contact with other men. The contact is often associated with laughter, and good-natured cajoling. It’s more episodic and event related. I call it the locker-room hug. This is just one of the things I learned on my first night out. My first night out started at the end of Friday’s school day. My department’s eight faculty (including two women), and 50 plus graduate students met for the school year’s opening ceremony at 5 p.m. I teach Advertising Principles (the department’s first English course) to 28 courageous students. Most of the students are Korean, have international experience, and speak some level of English. Korea’s school year starts in late February and goes through December. Students have six weeks off in the summer and almost three months in the winter. Students attend school six days a week (a half day on Saturday) until college. The education system is built on Confucian principles. Confucius (Kung Futzu) lived in China (500 BC) during a time of civil war. He developed a detailed code of behavior to establish social harmony and order. Dr. Jonathan Borden of the Seoul Foreign School describes this philosophy in his book Confucius Meets Piaget as an, “hierarchical structure in which the maintenance of positive and proper relationships is one of the highest (cultural) values.” Confucianism stresses benevolence, justice, decorum, wisdom and loyalty. The search for truth transcends all other activities. Education is emphasized, and scholars are revered. The professor’s role as the source of wisdom is recognized. His duty is to protect his students, be responsible for their welfare, and set a good example. The student’s duty is to show respect through obedience and diligence. This relationship between the professor and the student is permanent, powerful, and defines a lifetime commitment on both parties. The opening day ceremony solemnized these values. It was held in a modernly stylish, technologically enhanced seminar classroom. The room was spacious and the chairs were comfortable. Even the plants were healthy.

Page-long, biographical descriptions (with picture) of each new graduate student were given to the professors. Everyone introduced himself during the 75minute ceremony. There was plenty of laughing and enthusiastic clapping. The department chair introduced me. I thanked him for the English welcome, as I appreciated knowing what he was saying about me! Following the ceremony, we walked across campus to Shinchon, the urban playground for students from four universities. Its streets are filled with every type of vendor, restaurants, PC bangs (palors), coffee shops, dance clubs, drinking bars, and retail shops. Shinchon is like nothing you’ve seen in America. Its streets are much more narrow than the French Quarter’s, and its Friday night crowds are every bit as dense as Times Square’s. The neon lights, the exotic smells, and the foreign sounds excited me. We climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor Korean barbecue house, and GRANT & ME

took off our shoes as

we stepped on to the eating floor. Six Asian-style tables stretched the width of the large room. The faculty mixed with the students as we sat cross-legged on the floor’s sitting pads. Sunken gas grills dotted the tables at five-foot intervals. Immediately the waitresses brought pint-sized, green Soju bottles. I was cautioned to respect this Korean drink. The students filled our small, shot-sized glasses. We returned the favor. The faculty toasted the students, pledged its lifelong dedication, and sat at various student tables throughout the evening. Platters of lettuce, thinly-sliced beef and pork, and bowls of spicy Korean vegetables and sauces filled the tables. The students cooked the meat and

served from the grills. Like a family, we talked, laughed and ate together. Sometime later, we bowed in appreciation to our servers, found our shoes, and walked to the winding steps descending to the darkened karaoke lounge. Every opening day ceremony should end in a karaoke lounge. Koreans love group singing, and now I know why. It’s a great bonding activity that cleans the mind and purifies the heart. My gifts included the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine and Hey, Jude. I ended my Korean debut with the Righteous Brothers’ Unchained Melody. Around 11 p.m. we climbed the lounge’s winding stairs and said goodbye in the chilly spring air. Schinchon’s night was just beginning. Alone in the cab I thought about the evening. I thought about how close KOREAN DISHES

I felt to my colleagues and

students. I thought about my responsibilities as a professor, and my relationships with my students. I thought about how much this professor had learned from his students on his first night out in Korea.

Korean Reactions to the Iraqi War By Richard, March 2003 (3 of 9) Former President Clinton called the Korean peninsula, “the most dangerous place in the world.” And who am I to disagree? Combined military resources of North and South Korea total 1.8 million active soldiers, 9.2 million reserve troops, 5,830 battle tanks, 15,000 artillery, 1,176 combat aircraft, and a total annual military budget of $1.7 billion. And remember, all this military hardware is separated only by a 2.5 mile (4 km) wide, 155 miles (250 km) long Demilitarized Zone ((DMZ). No wonder I’ve spent more than several nights wondering about the prudence of my family spending 5 months in Seoul. Where does sound judgment end and denial begin? Frankly, I don’t know. I based my decision on personal research, our government’s assessment, and a huge dose of intuition and faith. Let’s cross our fingers and pray for the 65 million people living on the peninsula. So, what does the southern half of the world’s “most dangerous” place think about the Iraqi war? That’s a complex question getting tremendous coverage from the Korean media. Even the high-resolution television monitors hanging from every subway car ceiling carries Iraqi war footage. In some parts of the world, strongly held opinions have already formed majorities. Most Americans (almost 70%) support President Bush’s actions. Similarly, most Britons (almost 60%) now support the military actions. Elsewhere, large and oftentimes vocal, majorities oppose the American-led attack. As you know, these countries include Germany, France, Russia, China, and all of the Arab countries While surveys conclude most South Koreans oppose the war, I don’t think these are deeply held, single-dimension opinions yet. Sure, this could change quickly if the war goes bad, and/or North Korea’s Great Leader Kim Jong Il makes believable threats. But Korean opinions about the war are far more complex than a simple “I do or don’t agree.” Most of South Korea’s public opinion is driven by how the Iraqi situation

may affect Korean tensions. They are also worried about the potential economic problems. This concern about the North is so strong that South Korean President Roh Moo-Hyun recently asked government officials not to publicly speculate about the possibilities: he doesn’t want to unduly alarm the Great Leader. President Roh explained he, “couldn’t help agonizing over what best suited (South Korea’s) national interests” in his eventual decision to support the war effort with humanitarian assistance. The National Assembly shares his agony. It has twice postponed the vote authorizing the deployment of some 700 non-combatants to Iraq. The elected officials are concerned about growing anti-war sentiment. This is not a simple yes or no question for the Koreans. Remember former President Clinton’s verdict? Certainly, you can appreciate their agony While few actively support the war, I think there are many that accept the war as a justified, pre-emptive action. They tend to be older (40 years or more) Koreans with a direct involvement in, or an intellectual understanding of the Korean War. Their acceptance is less emotional and more intellectual. It’s a calculated support based on an appreciation of America’s historical commitment to Korea. A biology professor at my university best expressed this position. We often share lunch in the faculty/student dining room. Following the initial air strike, he was very anxious to discuss the war. Incidentally, I’ve found many Koreans are anxious to discuss the war with Americans. They want to know what we think, and share their opinions. The professor said, “I understand that America feels it must protect itself from the terrorists’ threats. It views the 9.11 attack as a declaration of war. He said Korea owes much to America, and he could never trust Kim Jong Il. I think this group views President Bush’s actions as an unspoken warning to North Korea’s Great Leader. The President’s justification of a pre-emptive strike is a line-in-the-sand to the threatening neighbor. While 250,000 American soldiers roll out the ‘Shock and Awe’ Iraqi campaign, 37,000 U.S. troops and 200,000 South Korean troops are conducting

joint, month-long war games on the southern part of the peninsula. Certainly, America’s capacity to conduct dual, large-scale military actions has caught the Great Leader’s attention. He’s remained uncharacteristically quiet. Many actively oppose the war. They tend to be young (less than 40 years old), college-educated, and technologically savvy. They strongly supported President Roh in his very narrow victory last year, and have organized several demonstrations against the war. The American Embassy predicted 30,000 would protest the war in Seoul City Plaza on Saturday, March 22. It warned that Korean “demonstrations can become confrontational and/or violent,” and cautioned U.S. citizens to avoid the area. Interestingly, The Korea Herald reported only 4,000 attended the demonstration. One must wonder just how intensely these anti-war sentiments are held. Today’s taxi driver discussed the war during our whole ride. He concluded, “I like all Americans except President Bush.” He’s directly feeling the economic pinch of a depressing world economy. On my campus, a dozen or so large, neatly lettered protest banners are stretched between trees and along buildings. Banners are a popular expression of political sentiment on Korean campuses. Students have also staged protests on my campus. The rallies have been orderly and sparsely attended. Yesterday, about 75 students sat on the Student Center steps waving banners and chanting anti-war slogans They were mannerly, well dressed, didn’t block the steps, and smiled to me as I watched. None of the students expressed anti-war opinions during our class discussion. Later, a colleague suggested the students might have avoided expressing anti-war sentiments out of respect for my position as an American professor. How, then, to summarize South Korea’s opinions regarding Iraq? The relationship with North Korea is the single most important political situation for all South Koreans. Everyday, everything is evaluated within this

context. They are most concerned about how the Iraqi war may affect North-South relationship, and are most interested in minimizing tensions with the North. They are also concerned about war-related economic problems. America and South Korea have been close partners for the last 50 years. Realistically, they’ll remain so. South Korea is dependent on U.S. military support, and enjoys the economic benefits of its partnership. I think the South will provide humanitarian support to the U.4S. war effort. Hopefully, President Bush appreciates this and will not pressure it for more. The outcome of the war will determine the strength of the opposition. If the war goes poorly, the opposition will grow. For now, there is a delicate balance between those who accept the war, and those who oppose it, and the streets are quiet. All South Koreans want peace: peace with the North, and peace in the Middle East. Let’s hope they get their wish.

BUDDHA AND ME

Yellow Dust, SARS, and Kimchee Too! By Richard Ganahl, April 2003 (4 of 9) I must admit I’m a bit of a germ freak. Not quite as bad as Jack Nicholson’s character in As Good As It Gets, but close. If a diagnosed compulsive obsessive ranks 10 on a 10- point scale, I’m probably 7.5. So, it’s 6.30 p.m. the height of Seoul’s rush hour, and we’re headed home on the subway. The Korean workweek is a long one. It starts early, ends late, and includes Saturday mornings. Seoul’s 12-line subway system moves 4 million people a day. Our car is packed literally. Every spot has been filled with meticulous Asian patience. Well, almost every spot. There’s some space under the benches behind the sitters’ feet, and someone could consolidate the overhead bags and curl up on the luggage rack. But, that’s it. My wife and daughter have just been given a seat. Korean subway riders are quite considerate of young children, senior citizens, and the physically challenged. I’m on my feet: face to face, back to back and side to side with many welldressed, but obviously tired Korean office workers. Suddenly, I hear it, a sneeze. Then, another one followed by a cough. I immediately activate my internal GPS system, determine the direction, calculate the distance, and assess our vulnerability. I conclude the human wall to our left will shield us. Welcome to the world of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS). It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Things seemed relatively calm twelve months ago when we began planning this trip. Even North Korea’s Great Leader Kim Jong Il had been quiet for some time. But now we live in more interesting times: the war in Iraq, North Korea’s nuclear threats, the spring yellow dust, and SARS. Two of the four threats seem less ominous than they did last week. Saddam is vanquished, and the Great Leader recently hinted he’d accept the US requirement for multilateral talks on nuclear weapons.

That leaves two, yellow dust and SARS. Let’s start with the least lethal. Yellow dust is caused by China’s practice of deforestation, and has plagued East Asian countries every spring since 1995. It originates in the Gobi desert, and is carried east by the prevailing winds. Yellow dust can be some nasty stuff. The Korean Herald reports it contains heavy metals that “can cause respiratory diseases (or) eye diseases such as conjunctivitis and dry eyes.” Hmm, sounds like a gritty form of LA smog. Seoul Foreign School Principal Dr. Jonathan Borden is less alarming, “it comes, and it goes. Your can’t stay inside forever.” My university students share his sentiments, advising me, “it’s no big deal, Dr. Ganahl.” However, health officials advise staying in doors during peak problem times. Sunglasses, humidifiers, and air purifiers can also be helpful. Asian governments are coordinating dust-tracking systems, and financially supporting reforestation programs in China. My family’s preparations include the large roll of two-inch wide, metalliccolored duct tape I insisted on packing after the Homeland Security advisory. We’ve also bought facemasks in blue and white, and tight-fitting, stylish Pierre Cardin swimming goggles. So bring the sand on! While the past three years have been severe, there is much less dust this year because the Gobi desert region has received up to four times its average rainfall. Surprisingly, a story in Japan’s Asahi Shimbun concludes the China threat may be slight, and speculates this year’s sand problems may actually originate in the Middle East. How’s that for globalization? The threat of the moment remains SARS. Worldwide, nearly 3,000 people have been infected and more than 135 have died. Areas defined as SARS-affected by the World Health Organization (WHO) include Beijing, the Chinese provinces Guangdong and Shanxi, Taiwan, Toronto, Singapore, and Hanoi. The Chinese government remained quiet from November through February about the devastating infectious threat. However, my student from China says much of the country’s citizenry knew early on about the disaster.

She says there were many Internet and email discussions beginning in December regarding the disease. Further, the cost of vinegar skyrocketed. Apparently, the Chinese use the vapors of boiling vinegar as a disinfectant. As you’ve probably read, the human, health, and economic costs to many Asian countries are devastating. Whole industries including tourism, airlines, and business conventions are severely threatened. Korea is especially vulnerable. More than 3,000 travelers from the high-risk countries fly into the country daily. Thousands of Korean nationals live in the affected areas. A number of business conventions and meetings scheduled in Korea have been cancelled or downsized. In the early days of the crisis Korea initiated wide ranging responses. A national 24-hour hotline was established. Strict travel advisories were issued, and all international airports received increased medical staff and mobile quarantine facilities. Frequent hand washing was also recommended. Today, the government announced that elementary and high school students from high-risk countries wishing to enroll in Korean schools must first spend two, symptom-free weeks at home before attending class. While most Koreans are following the SARS story, I seem to be the only one cleaning my hands with alcohol swabs before restaurant dining. Our original flight to Korea included three promotional-priced tickets to Hong Kong, which I doubt we’ll use anytime soon. And, I’m told our blue and white facemasks can provide some protection if we tie them tightly to our face. The National Health Institute (NIH) says 27 Koreans have reported symptoms during the past month. This weekend a 26-year-old Korean female reported symptoms when she returned from living in China. The media is closely following her progress and reports she is SARS free. The NIH claims this weekend (4.5/6) is a crucial stage considering the country’s preparations and the disease’s incubation period. The Korea Times reports a NIH official said, "If we pass this weekend without reports of any SARS cases, then the possibility of an outbreak will fall dramatically." Remarkably, we made it! Globally many are asking, “What’s Korea’s secret?”

Today, the Financial Times of London speculates that Korea’s heavy diet of garlic, kimchee, red peppers, and spices may contribute to its immunity. If you’ve ever eaten kimchee, you understand the possible connection. Kimchee is fermented cabbage made with plenty of garlic, red peppers, green onions, ginger, salt, and other ingredients. The more than 100 varieties come in colors ranging from white to blood red. It’s spicy, very spicy, pungent, and very pungent. Did I say spicy and pungent? Koreans eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and evening snacks. Everything goes with kimchee! Try it if you have the chance. So, there you have it from Seoul, South Korea. Certainly these are interesting times but aren’t they all?

AFTER MASS WITH FATHER

Stranger In A Strange Land? By Richard, April 2003 (5 of 9) I wanted something American, and a trip to Itaewon seemed the cure. We have never visited this district known as Korea’s American town. So, our Saturday plans were made. For more than two months we have lived like Koreans. We live in a Korean apartment complex, eat Korean food and go to Korean schools, travel with Koreans on subways, and do most of our socializing with Koreans. This sounds simple enough: when in Korea, do as the Koreans. But strangely, most Americans don’t live like Koreans in Korea, they live Americans in Korea. For example, the American embassy’s staff and family live in a large, square-block compound surrounded by a very tall, very thick stonewall guarded by Korean soldiers in combat uniforms. A soldier recently allowed us to peek through a tiny window in the small metal door he was guarding. The scene within was idyllic. Tall sycamore trees shaded the traditional Korean-style homes. Cars were parked on the suburbanlike streets. An American businessman we know lives by choice in a foreigner compound (his words) with his Korean wife and daughter. He describes his neighbors as non-Korean. Similarly, a Canadian teacher at a foreign school in Seoul has lived with his family of three children in an apartment on the school’s grounds for 7 years. He describes his condition as “rather isolated,” and says we “rely on Koreans to do many things for us.” Our situation is different. In a typical day, we see many Koreans and very few foreigners. Thus, I looked forward to our trip to Itaewon. Seoul’s subway system is much deeper than Manhattan’s. Seoul’s system is deep under ground, like the subways in DC. The only difference is the DC system has elevators the Seoul system has steps, lots of them. I count subway steps and non-Asian faces as we climb to the street level. The total is 127 steps and 9 non-Korean faces when we reach the street.

I continue to count non-Asian faces as we walk along the sunlit street 15, 16,17. Within the first two blocks I have seen more foreigners than I typically see in a week. I am giddy with excitement and want to shout, “here I am!” And, this puzzles me. I wonder, am I that dependent on the familiar? I didn’t think so. We decide to have a coffee and study the tourist guide at an outdoor café. To my surprise, the menu is in English. We buy our first cream cheese bagel since our early-February JKF departure. Seated behind us is a lone, American male. He is an American helicopter pilot that I’ll call Patrick. His first Korean military tour was in the late 1980’s. He remarks how much the country has changed, “none of these high rise apartments were here then.” The U.S. has more than 37,000 soldiers stationed at 41 installations in Korea. Itaewon reflects this military presence. The retail shops, restaurants, and clubs cater to a younger, single customer. There are more mixed race couples. Patrick comes to Itaewon on the weekends because of its food selection. “The town I’m stationed in doesn’t cater to American tastes,” he says. Patrick is a professional soldier that believes the military is making the world a safer place. He proudly talks about America’s recent actions, “we got rid of Milosovic took care of Osama and beat Saddam. Maybe next we’ll deal with Kim Jong Il.” His conviction is genuine, his words direct, and his eye contact steady. He concludes, “when we’re finished here, we’ll go home and the Koreans can do what they want.” His voice conveys a sense of betrayal. Patrick knows his vision is not shared by all, and that some Koreans don’t remember America as its liberator. We browse Itaewon’s many Asian antique stores, forgetting for a moment that our small apartment has limited room for furniture. I’m most intrigued by a Mao wind up clock for 60,000 won ($53). The clock’s hands are circling aircraft.

The seconds are marked by Mao’s Red Book being waved by a group of cheering, Chinese children in red headscarves. After a Korean-style dinner, we take a taxi to the Grand Hyatt hotel, described by many as Seoul’s best. We pass the Egyptian and Yugoslavian embassies. The driver explains that “foreign business and embassy people” live in the opulent, walled-houses lining the narrow streets. The view of Seoul from our table on the outdoor patio is magnificent. We are chilled by the cool breeze as we sip our “first ever” $10 cup of coffee (12,000 won), and share three-ways our “first ever” $17 banana split (20,000 won). We watch the people and listen to the many languages. Most are foreigners, many are Asian, and all are richly dressed for the night out. On the way home my daughter falls asleep in my arms in the taxi’s backseat. The trip is long, the evening’s sky dark, and the streets filled with traffic. It’s a perfect

ON THE ROAD

time to be alone with my thoughts. I think about Korea and America, and the parallel lives we live; how much we have shared, and how little we know about each other. I realize how hard we must work to renew our friendship. I think about my foreign friends in the U.S. and wonder how much their lives were changed by their new homelands. I recall that my great, great grandparents returned to Austria because of the pressures of change. Because of our travels, I am awed by humanity’s constant migration, and inspired by my country’s immigrant traditions. It has grown strong by embracing differences. I pray it has the courage to remain a nation of immigrants.

Buddha is 2,547 Years Old and Still Counting. By Richard, May 2003 (6 of 9) Korea’s Golden Week is now a collage of golden memories. It started with Thursday’s May Day celebration of labor. On Tuesday we celebrated Children’s Day. Finally, on Thursday we celebrated both Buddha’s Birthday and Parents’ Day. For most Koreans it means three days off from work and three days with the family. For us, the most fascinating day is Buddha’s Birthday. I’m no student of world religions. I was born a Catholic in St. Louis, grew up on St. Stephen Lane in the St. Ann municipality and participated in St. Kevin’s parish. Our city’s street index read like The Maroon Book of Saints’ table of contents. Strange, but I feel liberated through, rather than trapped by, this religious immersion. BUDDHA’S B-DAY!

Today, there are more than 300

different forms of worship in Korea. The major denominations include Christianity (49%), Buddhism (47%), and Confucianism (3%). Smaller, but notable religions include the 5,000-member Raelian cult. Raelians believe humans are the result of aliens’ genetic engineering. The press recently covered their claims of human cloning. While not recognized by the Korean government, the Unification Church (Moonies) was founded by Mr. Moon, Sun-Myung, in 1954. He claims Jesus appeared to him on Easter Sunday morning (1935) as he was deep in prayer on a North Korean mountain. Jesus asked the 15-year- old to “fix Jesus’ mistakes.” Today, the church publishes the conservative The Washington Times.

Korea’s oldest religious traditions include animism, Taoism, and Shamanism. Animism says every object in nature has a spirit associated with it. There are sun and moon spirits, animal and ancestor spirits, and so on. Taoists believe in reincarnation, and seek harmony between the opposites: Ying and Yang, man and woman, and night and day. A shaman (usually a woman) is a medium that serves as a predictor, healer and exorcist. Today, some Koreans consult a shaman regarding their love life, when naming a child, or making a career choice. Buddhism reflects many of these beliefs. Buddha’s story is a gentle one. His name means the Awakened One. He was born 2500 years ago as Siddhartha, the son of an Indian king. The king wanted his son to become a powerful ruler, so he made his palace so pleasant that his son would never leave. Siddhartha knew nothing of earthly suffering. When he

TEMPLE LANTERNS

learned of its pain, he left the kingdom seeking the path to end suffering. His followers practice good works, believe in karma, and revere all living things. His image is peaceful and smiling. Buddhist monks and nuns live in temples. They shave their heads to avoid earthly distractions, and are vegetarians. They don’t eat onions, garlic, peppers, or other spices because these create aggression and sexual energies. Korean monks wear loose-fitting, stylish gray or brown shirt- jackets and pants made of cotton or linen. Each country has a distinct color of clothing. Monks influenced by Japanese Buddhists during Japan’s occupation (19051945) marry.... the others remain celibate.

Buddha’s birthday is determined by the lunar calendar, and is celebrated on May’s full moon. Preparations start weeks before, and include the stringing of Buddha lights on major streets. These lights are 10 inch, multi-color, plastic globes imprinted with a picture of baby Buddha. Large, colorful banners are stretched along major streets, and a huge, lavender lotus flower is displayed in a downtown Buddhist pavilion. The birthday week starts with a large candle lit parade. Children festivities include games, songs, and dancing. We observed Buddha’s birthday at the Dobongsan temple (the do is pronounced like do, the music note). I must admit we were influenced by the temple’s evening celebrity music show. The temple is high in the mountains surrounding north Seoul. It was built in the 9th century, destroyed by the Japanese in the 15th, and rebuilt 200 years later. Today it has more than 100,000 members. The steep road leading to the temple is canopied by the new leaves of spring. The narrow road is lined with tented-vendors selling everything from religious goods of candles and beads to foods. The temple’s main gate is a massive, wooden structure topped by a tiled, Asian-styled roof. The gate’s top is painted with brightly colored symbols. Tall, wooden sculptors within the wooden pillars of the Four Heavenly Kings grimly stare at those entering. These menacing kings guard the temple’s four directions from evil spirits. A smiling young woman gives us a baby Buddha pin as we enter. The sound of temple flutes and chanting monks can be heard. People are everywhere. All are moving, most are quiet, many bow in prayer with clasped hands at the temple’s many outdoor shrines. The sun’s brightness filters through a ceiling of brightly colored paper globes. Written wishes for the living dangle from the globes. Wishes for the dead hang from outdoor ceilings of white paper globes.

Our 4-year-old daughter is invited to share in the ritual bathing of baby Buddha. The brightly painted Buddha sits atop a fountain. Our daughter makes a small offering, places a long-stemmed, white carnation at the fountain’s base, and then three times pours water from a bamboo cup on baby Buddha. We’re told this symbolizes spiritual cleansing. Below us is an outdoor stage filled with sitting people. They’re listening to Buddhist music and chants. The stage is walled by strings of multi-colored, globe-shaped lights. Suddenly we hear the large temple bell. We climb a stone path to the bell’s shrine. The richly embossed bell is enormous: 4 feet at its base and tall as a man. A large, deeply stained log hangs by a thick hemp rope from the shrine’s roof. A young monk swings the log into the bell, and I feel the bell deep in my body. The winding path to the temple’s main building of worship is walled by colored paper globes. The strong scent of incense permeates. You enter through one of four doors positioned at each direction. There

BUDDHA FILM

are no chairs; visitors kneel on floor cushions. A bank of golden Buddha’s lines one wall. Candles and food offerings front the shrine. From the mountain I can see groupings of Seoul’s multi-storied apartment complexes in the distance. They seem so tiny. The night air turns chilly, and we forgo the concert. We are renewed by Buddha’s gentle message of peace. And remark how starkly it contrasts other religious screams of rage and violence.

School Is Cool In Korea! By Richard, May 2003 (7 of 9) Only three weeks remain in the semester. As you can imagine, this is a period of some stress for students in this test-taking country. Many courses (including mine) are governed by a strict curve that limits the number of A’s, and sets the number of C’s. This is quite different from our system where A’s are plentiful and C’s rare. Now, I’m more comfortable with my Korean students’ names. The names are not hard to pronounce they’re just different from American names. Some of my students have suggested I refer to them by a Western name, but that doesn’t seem right. It’s strange, but I can remember (most times) a 5-syllable, Eastern European last name, and in Eastern Pennsylvania, I get several of these each semester Korean names usually consist of 3,

YOUNG VIOLINISTS

one-syllable words: the family name (or last name), and two given names. The family name is first, followed by the two given names connected with a hyphen: Kim, June-Soo. I’m told, there are less than 250 family names in the whole country. One of my students joked, “Dr. Ganahl, there are more Kim’s in New York City than Ganahl’s in the USA!” And, I think he’s right. So, how should you refer to Koreans? It’s best to refer to adult Koreans by their family name and a title or Mr., Mrs., or Miss: Dr. or Mrs. Kim. They will let you know if they prefer something different. You can refer to students or children by their given names. But, let’s return to the students’ stress. Most students seem able to handle

the pressures of education, which start early in their lives. Beginning in first grade, students attend classes 5 and half days a week. My family and I learned early to leave on our Saturday morning bus trips before noon. After noon the municipal busses quickly fill with the just-released, uniformed students. Korean school doesn’t stop with the formal, six-day school week. Many children take lessons from private tutors. Our friend’s 9-year-old son takes weekly lessons in English, mathematics, tae kwan do, singing and violin. And, for recreation he plays baseball on the weekend! Korea’s educational immersion is not a modern phenomenon. Dr. Jonathan Borden in his book Confucius Meets Piaget tells the story of a 17th century Dutch sailor who wrote about Koreans’ “national devotion to education.” The sailor observed Koreans “take great care in the Education of their Children to which the Nation is much addicted.” Today, Korean families spend more of their income on education than families in America, Japan, and the United Kingdom. It’s not surprising, then, that Koreans celebrate more new doctoral degrees each year than any county except the USA. It has a 98% literacy rate, and 95% of its population has at least a high school diploma. As you can imagine, competition for the country’s top universities is fierce, and culminates in November’s daylong, nationwide college entrance exam. The test is taken by all college-bound high school students. Government work schedules, public transportation, and airline schedules are adjusted to avoid conflict with the test. Following the tests, the students and their families tune to the nation’s airwaves and listen to the test’s questions and answers. Test results are released to the anxious nation in late December. Most of the country acknowledges the hierarchy of university academic rankings. The top schools include Seoul National University, Yonsei University, Korea University, and Ewha University. Job opportunities are directly related to university degrees. Alumni networks are powerful, pervasive, and life long. While the alumni networks are helpful for career opportunities, graduates

must often compete nationally for positions. A student in my class, let’s call her Park, Yu-Ha, is competing nationally for 10 entry-level positions with a global consulting company. Nearly 1,000 students took the company’s hiring exam, completed its multipage application, and wrote a several-page essay on a company-defined topic. Miss Park and sixty other students remain in the applicant pool. Company officials will make 10 offers based on this week’s interviews (which eventually will total 6 for the finalists). Miss Park is one of 28 students in my class. The class includes 2 Chinese, I Japanese, 1 Canadian, 1 American and 23 Korean students. All the students speak at least 2 languages; many speak 3 or more. Class instruction, its text, tests, and reports are in English. Most of the students have lived in at least 2 countries for extended periods. For example, many of

TRADITIONAL FASHION

the Korean students were born (or live) in foreign countries including Spain, Guatemala, Sri Lanka, Venezuela, Canada, Indonesia, and the United States. Most remain Korean citizens when their families live abroad. Military service is mandatory for all Korean males. Thus, some of my students are veterans, and 2 students will begin their military service when the semester ends. Many male students will complete 2 years of college, go to the

military for 2 years, and then return for their final 2 years of college. They say with this schedule their skills are most current, and it’s easier to be hired just out of school. Miss Park, who speaks Korean, English, and French, spent one year living in France where she went to school and did an internship with a French public relations company. Miss Park’s courage is inspiring. She was worried at the start, “I couldn’t speak a word of French, but my roommates helped me with French and I helped them with English. In the end, it all worked out.” It’s not fair to think of Korean students as nerdy bookworms. They are bright, quick to laugh, and most are involved in university-supported student organizations called dongarees. School is their life, and few are employed in part time jobs I’ve taught more than 1,500 students in my nearly 10 years as a university professor. And frankly, I don’t remember one that wished a bleaker future for himself. All seemed driven, to some extent, by the desire for self-improvement. The pursuit of wisdom is a global virtue. But Korea’s love of learning is unique, and I think there is much we can learn from it.

TRADITIONAL KOREAN VILLAGE

Scrub A Dub, Dub, There’s A Foreigner in the Tub! By Richard Ganahl, June 2003 (8 of 9) Frankly, the whole idea of a public bath has never appealed to me. Maybe it’s my Puritan roots, my sense of hygiene, or my need for privacy, but the thought of sharing soap in a tub with a stranger makes me uncomfortable. Think about it: our Western bath tradition is built around the number “one.” There simply is no room for any “public” in our bathing customs. Look at the size of today’s bathtubs. Sure, they’ll accommodate more than one, but usually it’s several laughing kids. Even our hotel hot tubs hold only 6-8 people. All right, we have locker-room bathing at the gym or swimming pool, but when was the last time you bathed there? My memory of my last swimming shower includes a quick soaping, a fast rinse, and then a brisk, towel-

GRANDPA’S GRAVE

wrapped walk to the pool. Korea, though, has a long tradition of communal bathing. Seoul has many bathhouses called muacktons. They’re open day and night, and offer massages, hot and cold baths, and dry saunas. Korean bathhouses have always segregated by gender, which differs from some European and Japanese spas. Many Koreans are loyal patrons of the muacktons, and visit them often in addition to daily, home bathing. A Korean friend goes to the baths 2-3 times a week to help deal with the stress of Seoul living. Recently, my 4-year-old daughter has tried to soften me on the idea of visiting a public bathhouse. She insists it’s fun and will make me “feel good.” My

wife is Korean and a believer in the power of the bath. She has made a disciple of my daughter. They make morning visits every week or so. So far, I’ve resisted, preferring the solitude of my home shower. That is until this weekend. The owners of the Suanbo Park Hotel invited us for a weekend of hot baths. Let’s call them the Kim family. The town of Suanbo, population 10,000, is famous for its natural hot springs, and less than 2 hours southeast of Seoul. Saturday was postcard perfect. Korea enjoys an extensive modern highway system. The divided highway leading to Suanbo snakes along the valleys that are surrounded by Korea’s everpresent mountains, which cover nearly 60% of the country. White cranes and bent farmers picked at the water-drenched rice fields that seem everywhere. Family cemeteries are meticulously carved into many mountainsides. These large plots contain sculpted shrubs, Asian-styled stones, and rounded mounds of grasscovered earth. SHOPPING WITH COUSIN

The resort manager and several of his staff were waiting in the drive as we arrived at the 150-room resort just

after noon. They politely bowed and helped us to our second floor room. Our 2 balconies faced east, and looked down on the valley to the town of Suanbo. I counted more than 15 sharp mountain peaks on the horizon. Across the valley, on the right side, a tiny pagoda pavilion seemed to serenely survey the scene. We began our visit with a special luncheon soup. It was served boiling hot in a heavy, roughened metal bowl. The thick bowls hold the heat of the bubbling soups. Eating Korean soups can be a noisy affair. They are slurped rather than sipped. This cools the hot soup as it quickly passes the sensitive lip area. Try it, it

works and is fun! The brown soup contained spiraled strips of deer horn to aid our stamina. Many Korean foods are described as stamina enhancers. The strips season the soup and are not eaten. The soup was thick with ginseng roots, Korean dates, garlic, onions, and pieces of beef, again, all for stamina. The meat was dipped in soy sauce mixed with the hot, green, Japanese spice called wasabe. Following the light lunch, our host invited us for an afternoon bath. I started for my trunks. He smiled and said, “this must be your first Korean bath experience.” I nodded and followed him to the baths, leaving my just- bought Korean trunks in our room. We were met by several smiling, bowing bath managers, and given a locker key, towels, a toothbrush and razor. We undressed and walked into the bathroom. The large, steam-hazed room had standing and sitting showers on the left wall, and massage tables on the right wall. The dry sauna room was opposite the windowed-wall looking out on the mountains. A door led to the outside hot bath. Two large, waist-deep pools were in the center. My Korean bath partners were surprised by the foreigner’s presence. We started with a vigorous scrubbing at the sitting showers, then entered the hot pool. The hot pool is kept at 42 C, or 107.6 F, so I quickly broke into a sweat. I started waist deep and then submerged to my chin. My body melted as my limbs went limp. After a few minutes, we went to the cold pool. This is kept at 22 C, or 54 F, so you can imagine the jolt upon entering. Again, I started waist deep and then submerged to my chin. My body adjusted quickly and tingled all over. Mr. Kim explained the hot spring waters had chemical qualities that helped stabilize the body’s acid-alkaline ratio. The spring water’s higher phosphorous content brings the body’s ratio into balance, which is disrupted by the stresses of modern life. He said the baths help normalize blood pressure, and are good for heart function. My mind couldn’t judge the scientific explanations, but my body felt great. We repeated the hot-cold bath combination 3 times, and then moved to the

outside pool. Hot spring water cascaded from a rock waterfall into the round pool. I slipped chin-deep into the hot water and closed my eyes. The scent of the pine trees teased my nose as the falling water’s rhythm pounded in my ears. We cooled on the outside cedar benches and silently reflected on the mountains. After 3 combinations we returned for a final shower. In the locker room, I stared into the surrounding full-length mirrors, combed my hair, and splashed a tonic on my face. A black, table-fan slowly dryed my body. Time stood still for this bath-reborn body. We walked the stairs to the outside patio, and refreshed ourselves with a cool, freshly squeezed vegetable and fruit drink. We remained mesmerized by the mountains. Finally, Mr. Kim predicted, “If I lived here one full year: took hot baths, ate stamina food, and exercised in the mountain air, I’d be 20 years-old again.” I agreed with him fully.

FAMILY AT GRAVESIGHT

Soup or salad multi-grain or white bread? By Richard Ganahl, June 2003 (9 of 9) America has a loyal Korean friend doing business in the Woraksan National Park, just southeast of Chungu City. I know this for a fact, and I have a 5.5 pound, 18 inch tall piece of white, petrified Indonesian wood to prove it. Our friend’s name is Shin, Moo-Cheol and he is the owner of Glade Gallery. His gallery backs up to the woods, and is a short walk from the celebrated Buddhist temple ruins of Mireuk-sa. The temple ruins are more than 1,000 years old and include a 5-level stone pagoda and a 10-meter high (33 foot) stone Buddha statue. Today, Mr. Shin sells imported Indonesian petrified wood, and exotic plants that mysteriously grow from various-sized, moist stones. The East often seeks beauty in exquisitely small expressions. The East’s reverence of space is expressed everywhere. Items used daily such as napkins, straws, and cola cans (the typical can is 250 mi. or 8.5 oz.) are much more reasonably (and healthfully) portioned than the West’s super- sizes. Fifty-two years ago, Mr. Shin was trapped by the rapidly invading North Korean army. “My mother and I couldn’t escape through the North Korean lines,” he explains, “an American GI saved us, he put us in his jeep, and drove us around the enemy lines. I’ll never forget him.” When Mr. Shin insisted I choose a stone as a gift of thanks for the unnamed GI’s heroics my eyes moistened. Fortunately for his gallery’s inventory, few Americans make it as far into the park as we did that Saturday. I admit there have been days when I’ve wondered how many friends America has in Korea. Some days I pay no attention to our popularity, but most days Korean generosity and attention overwhelm me. And I think that’s natural, don’t you? We accept that our feelings about our personal friends can vary over time. Why can’t the same be true among nations that are friends? Believe me, there are more Mr. Shins in Korea that respect America than those that don’t. I expected to learn much about Korea during my stay. But, I’m surprised how much I’ve learned about America. From this distance, it seems Americans think people are more similar than different. We think most people are the same

and will see things from our perspective. We’re disappointed when they don’t and some times we take it personally. I’ve learned people are not all the same, and that’s OK. There are very distinct cultural differences that can require deep understandings to bridge. Commenting on these differences, a professor of Korean poetry that we’ll call Dr. Jung, Hyo-Gu referred to the USA as a salad of various fruits and vegetables. She went on to say, “The world is waiting to see if your country’s ingredients will eventually go together.” I was completely surprised by our friend’s comments: I had never thought of my country as an experimental salad that may fail! I asked her to describe her country, and Dr. Jung declared, “Korea is a soup.” I had to ask, “Do you think it’s a one ingredient, or a multiple ingredient soup?” We both laughed, for we know Korea is one of the world’s most homogenous populations. “Soup or salad multiOUR HAPPY FAMILY

grain or white bread?” I think this is our

millennium’s question, and how we answer it is important. Cultures everywhere are struggling with their vision of the future. Some angrily cling to worn models of isolation and intolerance. Others recognize the imminent force of change, and embrace the new day where all will be nourished by the world’s infinite varieties of soups, salads, and breads. The monsoon season started Monday (6.23) on the Korean peninsula. The weather forecasters warn of “guerilla rainfalls.” These brief bursts of fierce rain can damage fields, property, and people. The rainy season will extend through the next month, followed by a period of hot and humid conditions. With typical enthusiasm and optimism Koreans proclaim that this is the time for travelling. Tonight, though, a cool, moist breeze refreshes our apartment. Seoul is

always quiet at this time. I listen to a Korean Buddhist monk chanting prayers as I write. His haunting voice is accompanied only by the sounds of singing birds and rhythmic beats on the temple’s hollowed, wooden ceremonial fish. I bought the tape for 3,000 Won ($2.50) at a Buddhist temple. The temple grounds occupy about 10 acres and are located directly across the street from COEX, a very modern, multi-storied hotel and convention center in Seoul, south of the Han River. The strange juxtaposition of the traditional temple grounds and the ultramodern convention center vividly depicts the anomalies of today’s Korea. At 5,000 years old, Korea is one of the world’s oldest cultures. It is also one of its youngest capitalistic democracies. This fusion of tradition and modernity is Korea’s strength and its allure, it’s also the source of its anxieties. Its experience during the last 100 years is quite different from the American experience. The almost 50-year Japanese occupation (1910- 1945) was a horrendous period of devastation and humiliation. Allied-determined governments ruled the country following WW II, and more than 1 million people died during the Korean War. Its first export was wigs made from Korean women’s thick, luxuriant black hair. It had no industry to manufacture any other exportable product. Today, it thrives as the world’s 12th largest economy. It’s a land of immense human energy. The people are extremely proud and have a tremendous capacity to endure and succeed. Koreans are very loyal. I know from experience, that Korean friendship means doing anything at anytime. I wish for you the blessing of a Korean friend. Koreans have heart. I will miss Korea. And so, the end of our Korean adventure draws near. In less than a week we’ll be home and on the verge of our old routines. Life will be back to normal, and at this moment that sounds like a threat. We hope you’ve enjoyed reading about our adventure. Get a map and plan an adventure for yourself. While home is sweet, I think travel is sweeter.