lost the plot

people often liken south korea to the 50s in america. since they're just now coming into a relatively prosperous time for their country, i often see all the ways this is true. the squeaky-clean pop music complete with dancing and matching outfits. the crisp, newness of buildings and shops. the booming amusement park industry. the way the family unit still operates under classic stereotypes. the modest clothing. the wholesome cheesiness of it all. even the air raid practices. it's all straight out of a movie.

but with all this paused-in-time goodness comes inevitable downsides. and the biggest one i see is the racism. it's startling. it's appalling. and it's usually directed at me.

this morning, i walked to work like i always do. i got the usual stares, occasional kids yelling heavily accented "HELLO"s, and some glares. i keep my head down when i walk. it's easier. but along with the usual mix of attention, i got one woman standing at the bus stop, who actually, purposely stepped into my path, forcing me to stumble around her as she said, incredibly loudly "ANNN-YONG HASS-E-YO." (hello, how are you, in korean) it wasn't kind. it wasn't even really a question. it was actually said a lot like my rude students say it, in a mocking, affected manner, mimicing my accent. she waited for me to say it back with one expectant hand on her hip, which on knee-jerk reaction i did, even mustering a small bow before going on my way. after a few steps, the entire bus stop burst into laughs at whatever she said after she let me pass.

and, yes, it's a small interaction. but it was odd and upsetting, and here is why: think of america. if an indian person, or an israeli or somalian was walking down a strange steet in an american town and someone stopped them in their tracks and said to them a highly sarcastic-sounding "HELLO. HOW ARE YOU" in a mocking attempt at their native accent, it would be rude. it would be more than that: it would be inappropriate and offensive. even if there are some jerks who might still stoop to such a level in america, i like the think the entire bus stop wouldn't bust up laughing at the scene after the fact.

i know this isn't how all koreans act. i've been fortunate enough to meet dozens of kind people here. but when you are so far from home, so far from everything familiar, then even the tiniest gestures and interactions can become laden with meaning, association, and even overall well-being. nothing can be taken with a grain of salt.

a tourist

autumn brings with it the hunger pains of home, so far away.

autumn in iowa is hard to explain, but everything explodes in an exclamation mark of color: the end of a sentence - the shouts of summer. autumn in iowa stretches out the sky, lets the colors bleed longer, slants the sunsets into kalidescopes and patches and rays of light. autumn in korea is gnawing familiarity, with some yellows and reds spotting the landscape, but the sky is snuffed out by apartment buildings, and the trees are scrawny and dwarfed by powerlines.

i have been sick with a relentless cough. in the night i sit straight up in bed, while jagged fingernails of hot air claw across the back of my throat. my ribcage seizes, my lungs rattle. i scrunch my eyes shut tightly and wait. and wait. and wait. for the waves to cease crashing inside my body. for sleep to come.

and in that canyon of lost time, i miss home. i miss familiarity and vanilla-scented candles and childhood. i miss how my mom would walk up from the basement, carrying the cardboard box labeled "october" in black permanant marker and how pumpkins and scarecrows would flood every nook and shelf. i miss my cousin's marching band performances on a cold friday night. i miss carving pumpkins with friends. i miss warm zuchinni soup at my aunt and uncle's house. i miss my grandfather as he sports his first pair of tennis shoes, and as his body heals from a close call. in the hunched-over nighttime, i allow myself to feel these things. my defenses are down.

by the first shards of light elbowing through the mountains and into our windows, i accept another morning in korea. i prepare for another full day of teaching, of language classes and new friendships. i walk into an autumn that is not my own, but i will do my best to soak it up. this alternate universe that i live in has a strange beauty, but i hesitate to say "i'm home."