It's the Korean Way

It's a sleepy group in Room 102 at the Language Education Centre this Monday morning. Not surprisingly, we're all fried from the weekend's activities, most especially Saturday night's FIFA match. But the game aside, the people of Gwangju seem to move 24-7. Their life philosophy is not to go gracefully into the good night, but rather, to slide full speed into home plate.

My TA today is Sang Seop, an Administration and Economics graduate who is now studying law. Sang Seop is amused when I ask his name. He says all the other teachers and professors just address him as, "TA." He apologizes for the few students who are absent, explaining that they are at military service training camp. He says that due to the ever present friction with North Korea, South Korean men over the age of 20 must get two years military training. After that, they receive upgrading once a year for seven years. Women participate on a voluntary basis. I wonder if this might be part of the reason young men seem to have such regal bearing and such poise? The young people, in general, seem so mature and well mannered. This goes beyond the cultural expectations of respect for elders; in short, they're just nice kids. For heaven's sake, they bow when they hold doors open!

At the break, Friday's student cosmetologist Hye Jin drops by to tell me that she's going to try to get me an eyebrow tattooing appointment for Friday. I'm most impressed with her detective skills in finding me since, in this program, the teachers move from room to room and building to building. I'm even more impressed when she manages to track me down in the Kyosu cafeteria, across campus, at lunchtime.

Hye Jin tells me she's booked me in for 6:30 on Friday afternoon, and will meet me at 6 p.m. in the LEC. She has insisted on taking me to the shop where she works, so I cannot possibly get lost. So, what started last week as a casual conversation has turned into another adventure. I was planning on doing this on my own, but to deny a Korean the opportunity to do a favour, is to dishonour them. (By the way, lest you think this might be stepping outside teacher-student boundaries, it isn't. I am not grading Hye Jin, or any of the students in the Summer Exploration Program.)

Hye Jin is clearly a self-possessed and very capable young lady. In a hierarchical culture, a young woman with this kind of forthright attitude is a rare bird. But there's another in this morning's class. This young miss notices, and points out, a grammatical error that I've made on the overhead. I've typed the same word twice in one sentence. I applaud the student for her acuity, and her gumption. It becomes a teachable moment as we discuss cultural differences in student-teacher dynamics. Here, the power differential is such that a student would never question a teacher in class, let alone draw attention to a mistake. In North America, that is a possiblity.

Rob and I lunch, and between chopsticks full of food, note that most of our meals include samples of creatures from land, sea, and air. Today we particular enjoy dessert which is a multi-textured, flavourful cream of vegetable soup. As Rob heads for class, I'm off to one of the tailor's shops in Hu Moon to have a skirt hemmed. Through miming and gesture, I make my need understood and agree to return tomorrow afternoon for pickup. There's no ticket, nothing. I suppose the seamstress will recognize me, especially since the material in my skirt could outfit four Korean women.

I bump into an Indian post doctoral researcher and a woman who is working on her master's. Varij and Samira are from New Delhi and they're currently working through the Robot Research Initiative in Gwangju. They are ecstatic to hear that Rob is a Religions Professor whose focus is Hinduism, and beside themselves to find that he has lived and traveled extensively in India. I'm given a business card and directed to have Rob phone them. I listen carefully to their instructions, but am somewhat distracted by their colleague, and Indian version of American comic Chris Rock. I wonder if it's difficult to be such a flawless physical specimen? Is it hard to pry oneself away from the mirror? As I ponder these questions, I'm very nearly mowed down by a scooter crossing the crowded sidewalk.

It starts to gently drizzle and everyone slips into panic mode. A woman frantically gestures to her friend to put up her umbrella. I enjoy the cool droplets, and continue to walk uncovered. People stare, as if they're seeing living proof of Archimedes principle that a body immersed in a fluid experiences a buoyant force equal to the weight of the fluid it displaces. In other words, a little water won't hurt this big strapping Canadian gal.

The drizzle lets up in time for our post dinner evening walk where we bump into a couple of students and one of my TAs, Gun. After a long day assisting students in classes, he's off to do, what else? Study. We leave Gun at his departmental library, and then walk behind the building to see a gorgeous big lake filled with fountains and lotus plants. It's surrounded by a lovely walkway and many different kinds of trees. A man stops to offer to take our picture, a common occurance here. Rob glances into the water and notices the dinner plate sized leaves moving in a line. Sure enough, we look down to see a charcoal gray foot-long fish that looks like a koi wending its way through the stems. It's poetry in motion. If I had seen this in a movie, I might have thought it too precious. But this is nature, and life, at its best.