I guess I should have felt nothing but encouraged when, after landing here on my first day, Principal Yu told me: “We discussed, and you are much more handsome than your picture. We were worried you would be very fat. But, in fact, you are very cute.”
In a save-face culture, the honest truth is seen as a compliment. Very often, the Koreans do not tell me—or each other, for that matter—how they really feel. If a situation or conversation might make either of us feel ashamed or embarrassed, everyone just makes nice or plays dumb. If I ask a question, and they tell me, “I don’t know,” it may actually mean: “I know, but I will not tell you in fear of things becoming awkward.” Some days, it feels like I am a character in the Truman Show.
Beside the language gap, this kind of culture can also create communication issues. For instance, when planning a dinner, everyone will say “yes” to your invitation. They may have no intention of coming. They just don’t want to make you feel bad, or they don’t want to appear unwilling. Never mind that I walk two miles to get groceries, then slave over a meal for an hour, only to eat dinner alone that night.
Though my second week here, in the middle of a snow storm, Young Gwang volunteered to drive me to my then-home. I had told him it was unnecessary, as it was only a few blocks away. He insisted, so I got in his car. After we started down the street, he looked at me and said: “This is my first time of driving in snow! I am a beginner driver.” Sometimes, you just don’t want to hear the truth…
…
At times, it is hard for me to share the whole truth about life overseas. I don’t want to seem unappreciative. After all, many people feel that traveling the globe and experiencing new cultures is “the adventure of a lifetime!” Moreover, I am here as a missionary. To “complain” may come across as a lapse in faith—or as blatant sin.
A support network can also mistake total honesty to mean, “You have forgotten that God has a plan and that we love you!” This misunderstanding has happened both in my time overseas and my time back in the States. I want to assure you—I do not seek to blame. If I do know two things that are without-a-doubt true, they would be: 1.) the Triune God is real and 2.) I am immeasurably loved by Him and the people He put in my life.
But, being loved does not exempt me from days of discouragement, loneliness, and heart ache. In fact, the reason why I would share my struggles aloud (whether in person, via phone, via email, or even this blog) is meant to be a compliment. It is meant to say: I trust that you love me, care for me, and will pray for me—to the God who sees and responds to my tears. It’s an acknowledgment that I am not truly alone in this journey.
I remember when Stephen Smith (who runs the amazing ministry called The Potter’s Inn) came to lead the spiritual retreat for our team in China. He began by speaking on Paul’s example in 2 Corinthians 1:1-11, where even the great Apostle doesn’t want the saints to “be ignorant of his afflictions in Asia.” Steve then went on to share a quote from Amy Carmichael, a gifted writer and missionary to India, who wrote in her book Things as They Are: “Be careful with the truth.” I have never forgotten that.
Here is some of the honest truth about leaving your home country. Culture shock can feel like losing a loved one. It carries a weight of grief and a sense of identity crisis. You recognize that you are losing a cultural frame of reference. You no longer have a firm definition of “home.” As a Christian, this can be a good thing—to find your identity more in Christ and embrace your citizenship in heaven. But it is still a process of “dying to self,” and it frankly feels like death. I often refer back to a prayer in my journal, when I wrote: “Lord, when I don’t know who I am or where I belong, remind me, O God, that you are the Great I Am, and that I belong to You.”
You also have to change or abandon aspects of personality to “fit in” your new host country and to make friends. Sarcasm is largely lost on Asians. In fact, some people groups do not even have a word for that concept—to “jokingly say what you don’t mean to communicate what you really mean.” They think: Huh?
My mom was spot on when she wrote to me: “It's got to be a bummer when no one will talk to you or you can't read a grocery label. Conforming to a new culture means you have to act differently than you normally would—they might not ‘get’ your dry wit!”
It may be a surprise to some that I have encountered prejudice and racism in my travels. I don’t just mean against others—I mean, against me. I have been spit on, yelled at, and cursed repeatedly. I had a man throw a beer bottle at my feet, telling me to “go home.” I have forgiven, but I haven’t forgotten. I have a whole new empathy for minorities and immigrants, because I am one now. I know what it’s like to be “boxed in” by stereotypes and never given a fair chance to make a clean first impression. I am always having to overcome preconceived notions about my American beliefs and practices. I am certain that my future views on immigration will be colored by my own experience.
Steve Smith also compared the missionary life to the opening line in A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness.” Indeed, you have to learn that, in your heart, there is room enough to feel a paradox of emotions. Some days you feel like this: “I hate this place. The people are getting on my nerves. The food is terrible. The culture is confusing. The language is hard. I could honestly stay here forever!” That last statement comes by the grace of God. I am often surprised with joy that even in pain and confusion there is still a wellspring of faith, hope, and love.
When you travel for the purpose of helping others, you also see the immense amount of need that exists in the world. You carry with you a sacred sorrow. You want to develop a passion that turns into a plan of action. However, it can sometimes paralyze you. You think to yourself: “Where will I begin? And how will I get it done?” I have come to peace with loving one person at a time, however imperfectly. But you still struggle with the feeling of “more, more…I must do more.” I try to take that to God in prayer.
This past week was full of shattered expectations. Nothing went “according to plan.” It was a week of hurt feelings, of misunderstandings, of culture clash, of messy emotions, of unfulfilled longings, of spiritual battles. I felt lonely. I share this as a compliment to you, my dear friends. Would you just “sit with me” for a while in this? Because I know we all look forward to better days, to answered prayers, to perfect freedom in Him, to glorified union with Him—together. Until then, let’s be careful with the truth.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Give Me That Old Time Religion
One of the sweetest parts of worship services here is the tradition. Each week, we sing familiar hymns, recite the Apostle’s Creed, and close with the Lord’s Prayer. Albeit in Korean, it has brought a real sense of home for me. It has also been comforting that, while I don’t understand most of the sermon yet, our church is rooted in timeless truth.
I think I had lost an appreciation for the beauty of liturgy and hymns in worship. I have been attending contemporary churches for many years now. Of course, there is a beauty in the fresh and modern, too. It reminds us that God is still moving today. We have our own songs to write of His goodness. The early church produced new songs weekly—“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God (Colossians 3:16).” At some point in history, all hymns were contemporary worship music.
Sometimes we can get lost in our traditions. We start worshiping the “form,” instead of the Foundation of worship. However, I was foolish to think that we don’t have our own trappings in modern services. We often lose a sense of reverence, instead preferring a feeling of entertainment. We can also develop arrogance—that our way is superior to previous ways. We think that we have eliminated the idolatry that can be found in traditionalism. But, if we are not careful: we can become shallow ponds, instead of drawing from the deep Well of truth, passed down from the generations. We can become isolated islands, never identifying with the Church universal. We can prefer to build with new materials, while missing the Foundation altogether.
When I was a membership pastor, I heard many reasons why people prefer modern churches to more traditional settings. I identified with many of them. They would say: “It was steeped in church politics and legalism, instead of true and meaningful worship.” And, “it was full of hypocrisy—people there didn’t live out what they were teaching and singing.” Or simply, “it was boring.” So, we eschewed tradition for “relevance.”
Interestingly, I have found the hymns we sing at Evergreen Church to be extremely relevant for me, though they date back for centuries. Why? Because these hymns include a depth of timeless truth and breadth of biblical topics rarely found on a modern worship CD. It never fails—whatever struggle I am facing each week, one of the hymns will speak directly to it—if I am willing to truly “hear” the lyrics, and not just sing along.
I was greatly encouraged by one hymn called, "Close to Thee." The first verse is: “Thou, my everlasting portion, more than friend or life to me; all along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let me walk with thee. Close to thee, close to thee, close to thee, close to thee--all along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let me walk with thee." It really spoke to the desire of my heart—walking closely with the Lord, on my own “pilgrim journey” here to South Korea.
One hymn reminded me that I am just a vessel. The gospel changes lives. It is called "Channels Only." And it goes: "Just a channel full of blessing to the thirsty hearts around; to tell out Thy full salvation, all Thy loving message sound. Channels only, blessed Master—but with all Thy wondrous power flowing through us, Thou can use us every day and every hour!" I was humbled—I am a channel only, but a channel of His power!
After a difficult week, I was feeling discouraged when I was reminded of Jesus’ promise to us—that He has sent the Comforter. How often do we truly sing about, worship, and rejoice in the Holy Spirit, who is the third person of the Trinity? This hymn helped me do just that: “O spread the tidings ’round, wherever man is found, wherever human hearts and human woes abound; Let every Christian tongue proclaim the joyful sound: The Comforter has come! The Comforter has come, the Comforter has come! The Holy Spirit from Heav’n, the Father’s promise given; O spread the tidings ’round, wherever man is found— The Comforter has come!”
We sang a hymn on Wednesday night called “Christ for the Whole Wide World.” I was blown away by the last stanza: “Christ for the whole wide world! His heralds will proclaim salvation for men everywhere in Jesus blessed name. And we who cannot go to bear His tidings far will pray for those who take the Word, and witness where we are. We will give, we will pray, we will witness every day, that the millions of the whole wide world may know our Savior’s love.” How often in churches today do we encourage each other to engage in and support the work of missions around the world? After all, Jesus gave us the Great Commission before He ascended—to go and make disciples of all nations. Plus, there is much talk today about “being missional”—sharing Christ’s love right where you are. Some of the language used in contemporary settings may be new, but the Church has been singing about this idea for quite some time!
Please don’t hear me say that I am swinging the proverbial pendulum, and now advocating that every church return to traditional worship. Nor am I saying that modern worship is inherently shallow. Many worship pastors today are beautifully marrying the new with the old, singing lyrics of the past in the music styles of today, teaching us that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. What I am saying—if you feel yourself spiritually hungry or even discouraged today, try picking up a hymn book. For you never know—to move forward in your spiritual journey, you may need to look backward to the time-tested songs of old.
“It was good for our mothers…it has saved our fathers…makes me love everybody…it will do when I am dying…it will take us all to heaven…Give me that old time religion, ‘tis the old time religion, and it’s good enough for me!”
I think I had lost an appreciation for the beauty of liturgy and hymns in worship. I have been attending contemporary churches for many years now. Of course, there is a beauty in the fresh and modern, too. It reminds us that God is still moving today. We have our own songs to write of His goodness. The early church produced new songs weekly—“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God (Colossians 3:16).” At some point in history, all hymns were contemporary worship music.
Sometimes we can get lost in our traditions. We start worshiping the “form,” instead of the Foundation of worship. However, I was foolish to think that we don’t have our own trappings in modern services. We often lose a sense of reverence, instead preferring a feeling of entertainment. We can also develop arrogance—that our way is superior to previous ways. We think that we have eliminated the idolatry that can be found in traditionalism. But, if we are not careful: we can become shallow ponds, instead of drawing from the deep Well of truth, passed down from the generations. We can become isolated islands, never identifying with the Church universal. We can prefer to build with new materials, while missing the Foundation altogether.
When I was a membership pastor, I heard many reasons why people prefer modern churches to more traditional settings. I identified with many of them. They would say: “It was steeped in church politics and legalism, instead of true and meaningful worship.” And, “it was full of hypocrisy—people there didn’t live out what they were teaching and singing.” Or simply, “it was boring.” So, we eschewed tradition for “relevance.”
Interestingly, I have found the hymns we sing at Evergreen Church to be extremely relevant for me, though they date back for centuries. Why? Because these hymns include a depth of timeless truth and breadth of biblical topics rarely found on a modern worship CD. It never fails—whatever struggle I am facing each week, one of the hymns will speak directly to it—if I am willing to truly “hear” the lyrics, and not just sing along.
I was greatly encouraged by one hymn called, "Close to Thee." The first verse is: “Thou, my everlasting portion, more than friend or life to me; all along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let me walk with thee. Close to thee, close to thee, close to thee, close to thee--all along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let me walk with thee." It really spoke to the desire of my heart—walking closely with the Lord, on my own “pilgrim journey” here to South Korea.
One hymn reminded me that I am just a vessel. The gospel changes lives. It is called "Channels Only." And it goes: "Just a channel full of blessing to the thirsty hearts around; to tell out Thy full salvation, all Thy loving message sound. Channels only, blessed Master—but with all Thy wondrous power flowing through us, Thou can use us every day and every hour!" I was humbled—I am a channel only, but a channel of His power!
After a difficult week, I was feeling discouraged when I was reminded of Jesus’ promise to us—that He has sent the Comforter. How often do we truly sing about, worship, and rejoice in the Holy Spirit, who is the third person of the Trinity? This hymn helped me do just that: “O spread the tidings ’round, wherever man is found, wherever human hearts and human woes abound; Let every Christian tongue proclaim the joyful sound: The Comforter has come! The Comforter has come, the Comforter has come! The Holy Spirit from Heav’n, the Father’s promise given; O spread the tidings ’round, wherever man is found— The Comforter has come!”
We sang a hymn on Wednesday night called “Christ for the Whole Wide World.” I was blown away by the last stanza: “Christ for the whole wide world! His heralds will proclaim salvation for men everywhere in Jesus blessed name. And we who cannot go to bear His tidings far will pray for those who take the Word, and witness where we are. We will give, we will pray, we will witness every day, that the millions of the whole wide world may know our Savior’s love.” How often in churches today do we encourage each other to engage in and support the work of missions around the world? After all, Jesus gave us the Great Commission before He ascended—to go and make disciples of all nations. Plus, there is much talk today about “being missional”—sharing Christ’s love right where you are. Some of the language used in contemporary settings may be new, but the Church has been singing about this idea for quite some time!
Please don’t hear me say that I am swinging the proverbial pendulum, and now advocating that every church return to traditional worship. Nor am I saying that modern worship is inherently shallow. Many worship pastors today are beautifully marrying the new with the old, singing lyrics of the past in the music styles of today, teaching us that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. What I am saying—if you feel yourself spiritually hungry or even discouraged today, try picking up a hymn book. For you never know—to move forward in your spiritual journey, you may need to look backward to the time-tested songs of old.
“It was good for our mothers…it has saved our fathers…makes me love everybody…it will do when I am dying…it will take us all to heaven…Give me that old time religion, ‘tis the old time religion, and it’s good enough for me!”
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Now Serving: Seaweed, Snail, Silkworm, and Sushi
Every day, I am reminded in both subtle and overt ways why I should be thankful for the life that I have been given. Here, my friends often ask me, “Pae bu le yo?” This is one Korean way of saying, “How are you?” It literally means, “Are you full?” In China, they would ask a similar question: “Ni chi le, mei you?” That means, “Have you eaten?”
Whether or not you truly feel full at the moment, or have eaten yet or not, isn’t the point. You simply respond, “Yes, I am full,” or “Yes, I have eaten,” to signify a sense of national joy—that they are no longer living in utter deprivation. Those questions hearken back to a time in Asian history when, after occupation and post-war turmoil, the people simply had no food to eat. Pastor Lee shares stories of growing up, when American soldiers would give away expired baby formula, which entire families would then turn into a meal. Back then, the country had three national days when they were allowed to enjoy meat. For most, the only available food source was dog (cf. my last post).
In Kenya, one of the drivers told me that the happiest man in the village was the one who “could show off his heavy wife.” That means he is able to provide for her.
Keeping that in mind, I try to cultivate thankfulness for all things set in front of me. I am also fortunate to have a strong stomach and an adventurous appetite. Honestly, this has all served me well in trying all kinds of Korean cuisine.
For example, the elder at our church recently took me out for sushi. The first bowl set in front of me was seaweed soup. Though not bad in flavor, it has a slimy texture. The next bowls were sea snail and silkworm pupa. We grabbed small forks, pulled raw snail from its shell, and ate it whole. It would end up being my favorite appetizer. The silkworm pupa was distinctly bitter, though helped by a tasty garlic sauce. The main sushi courses were delicious and fresh (which you would hope for in raw fish). We ended with a spicy soup that consisted of a large crab chopped into pieces and boiled.
Don’t get me wrong. The Koreans have a love for all things fermented, dried, and pickled, but my food choices have not been limited to things like chicken amnion (yes, I had to look that up) and bean curd soup (the smell of which permeated my clothing). In fact, memorable meals have included the amazing Easter dinner at Canaan Duck. And the all-you-can-eat buffet at VIP’s Steak and Salad Bar. The ribs were the best I have ever eaten. I introduced my friends to their first Pepsi float there. And I was also highly entertained when Young Gwang, having eaten ten plates of food already, decided to eat an eleventh plate of pasta, simply because “it is free.”
There is also a healthy dose of the familiar here too. I have enjoyed a hamburger at Burger King (which recently opened across the street). I ate a sandwich at Quizno’s in Seoul. I had a steak at Outback in Suwon Station. Plus, E-Mart has bacon and a full dairy section! At home, I enjoy having an ice tray in my freezer. Also, Koreans share my love of pizza and wings. There is a shop on every corner that delivers. Though Koreans are wild about sweet potato or seafood on their pizza, they also have pepperoni and (my favorite here) white garlic with cheese. On top of that, restaurants all have western-style toilets—not the “squatty potty” found in other countries.
If I do have a complaint, it would be the rock hard mattresses. Yet, I fondly remember the irony of when I slept like a baby in a hotel in Hong Kong because of the pillow top. My three Chinese roommates looked miserable in the morning, and I asked them, “Did you sleep?” They moaned, “No! That mattress is way too soft!”
But after all that the generations before us have endured, I figure I can also live with a few inconveniences in my life. Beside, I don’t think Jesus had our comfort in mind when he commanded us: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me (Luke 9:23).” Moreover, I feel that simplicity can be a wise life choice and that resourcefulness is an admirable trait. I am humbled by the example that my Asian brothers and sisters have been to me.
Here I have learned: the sun makes a great clothes dryer. And a suitcase, turned on its side, can serve many purposes (such as a small bookshelf or laundry tote). Yes, it is strange at times not having car keys or a cell phone. I still search my pockets for them now and then. But it can also be very freeing.
Before we left Kenya, our friend Nancy asked to pray for us. She said, “I have been to America. I have seen how expensive your life is. And I know how busy you must be in order to afford it. I will pray that you never forget what God has done in your heart here.” She put into words what has been a wonderful truth—the less my life is crowded with “stuff,” the more room I have in my heart to hear from God.
Even still, there are things about life here that I enjoy even more than America. The family style meals are fun and relaxing. Dinner can last for more than three hours, and it is rewarding to be filled with great conversation and not just food. The food all tasted similar at first, but now my palate—and my heart—has expanded.
Today I cannot help but be grateful. For I have eaten, and I am indeed full.
Whether or not you truly feel full at the moment, or have eaten yet or not, isn’t the point. You simply respond, “Yes, I am full,” or “Yes, I have eaten,” to signify a sense of national joy—that they are no longer living in utter deprivation. Those questions hearken back to a time in Asian history when, after occupation and post-war turmoil, the people simply had no food to eat. Pastor Lee shares stories of growing up, when American soldiers would give away expired baby formula, which entire families would then turn into a meal. Back then, the country had three national days when they were allowed to enjoy meat. For most, the only available food source was dog (cf. my last post).
In Kenya, one of the drivers told me that the happiest man in the village was the one who “could show off his heavy wife.” That means he is able to provide for her.
Keeping that in mind, I try to cultivate thankfulness for all things set in front of me. I am also fortunate to have a strong stomach and an adventurous appetite. Honestly, this has all served me well in trying all kinds of Korean cuisine.
For example, the elder at our church recently took me out for sushi. The first bowl set in front of me was seaweed soup. Though not bad in flavor, it has a slimy texture. The next bowls were sea snail and silkworm pupa. We grabbed small forks, pulled raw snail from its shell, and ate it whole. It would end up being my favorite appetizer. The silkworm pupa was distinctly bitter, though helped by a tasty garlic sauce. The main sushi courses were delicious and fresh (which you would hope for in raw fish). We ended with a spicy soup that consisted of a large crab chopped into pieces and boiled.
Don’t get me wrong. The Koreans have a love for all things fermented, dried, and pickled, but my food choices have not been limited to things like chicken amnion (yes, I had to look that up) and bean curd soup (the smell of which permeated my clothing). In fact, memorable meals have included the amazing Easter dinner at Canaan Duck. And the all-you-can-eat buffet at VIP’s Steak and Salad Bar. The ribs were the best I have ever eaten. I introduced my friends to their first Pepsi float there. And I was also highly entertained when Young Gwang, having eaten ten plates of food already, decided to eat an eleventh plate of pasta, simply because “it is free.”
There is also a healthy dose of the familiar here too. I have enjoyed a hamburger at Burger King (which recently opened across the street). I ate a sandwich at Quizno’s in Seoul. I had a steak at Outback in Suwon Station. Plus, E-Mart has bacon and a full dairy section! At home, I enjoy having an ice tray in my freezer. Also, Koreans share my love of pizza and wings. There is a shop on every corner that delivers. Though Koreans are wild about sweet potato or seafood on their pizza, they also have pepperoni and (my favorite here) white garlic with cheese. On top of that, restaurants all have western-style toilets—not the “squatty potty” found in other countries.
If I do have a complaint, it would be the rock hard mattresses. Yet, I fondly remember the irony of when I slept like a baby in a hotel in Hong Kong because of the pillow top. My three Chinese roommates looked miserable in the morning, and I asked them, “Did you sleep?” They moaned, “No! That mattress is way too soft!”
But after all that the generations before us have endured, I figure I can also live with a few inconveniences in my life. Beside, I don’t think Jesus had our comfort in mind when he commanded us: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me (Luke 9:23).” Moreover, I feel that simplicity can be a wise life choice and that resourcefulness is an admirable trait. I am humbled by the example that my Asian brothers and sisters have been to me.
Here I have learned: the sun makes a great clothes dryer. And a suitcase, turned on its side, can serve many purposes (such as a small bookshelf or laundry tote). Yes, it is strange at times not having car keys or a cell phone. I still search my pockets for them now and then. But it can also be very freeing.
Before we left Kenya, our friend Nancy asked to pray for us. She said, “I have been to America. I have seen how expensive your life is. And I know how busy you must be in order to afford it. I will pray that you never forget what God has done in your heart here.” She put into words what has been a wonderful truth—the less my life is crowded with “stuff,” the more room I have in my heart to hear from God.
Even still, there are things about life here that I enjoy even more than America. The family style meals are fun and relaxing. Dinner can last for more than three hours, and it is rewarding to be filled with great conversation and not just food. The food all tasted similar at first, but now my palate—and my heart—has expanded.
Today I cannot help but be grateful. For I have eaten, and I am indeed full.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
This “Tail” Ends Well
“And the little dog lost his bone forever,” she read. Then she stopped.
“Oh my,” I said, “What happens next? Is there another chapter?”
Principal Yu replied, “No, that is the end.”
And now I am supposed to share this sad story with my elementary students? Oh well, I thought, I guess Koreans are realists. And I have a limited selection of English books to read to them. Guess it’s never too early to learn the hard truth—not every tale ends well.
…
DL was driving us home from dinner (at a salad bar) when he pointed at a restaurant and said, “Dog soup.” I quickly asked, “They serve DOG soup there?” He laughingly said, “At many places. Like there, and there…and there!”
Apparently, we were at the hotspot for dog dishes. And I don’t mean the cute red ones with “Fido” written on the side, that you fill with your dog’s water. I mean the ones where you put Fido in the water, boil him, and serve him to your friends.
I had forgotten that Koreans indeed eat dog. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind before coming, or since arriving, up to that point. I asked him, “Do you eat dog?” His answer, I thought quietly, could affect our friendship. He replied, “No. It is a traditional dish. Many of the older people eat it. Young people cannot stomach it.”
In a cruel twist of fate, that same street hosted an obedience school for dogs. It was called “Obey Academy.” That must be the place where they teach them not to run away.
…
Dinner had been exceptional. Pastor Lee invited me to his sister’s house. He said, “I want you to know that you are not an outsider. We welcome you as family.” The spread was amazing: Korean “pizza” (which is like a seafood pancake), tender beef, spicy kimchi and vegetables, and bean curd soup. It was the best meal I have had in Korea.
The family had a cute dog, which they let out of the bedroom to come eat the remaining scraps on our plates. I asked them, “What is his name?” Pastor Lee replied, “His name is Golgi.” “That is sweet,” I said, “What does that mean?” He said, “It means meat.”
“Did you say meat? As in, meat that you eat?” I said it almost incredulously, yet mostly embarrassed that I called the name sweet. I really need to learn Korean fast, I thought! I also fretted, that the next time they invited me the dog would no longer be alive. Maybe little Meat is next on the menu—and I just fattened him up?
Pastor Lee smiled, “Yes, it is just a funny name.” I breathed a cautious sigh of relief…
Then he said, “Many Koreans love to eat dog. Not our pets, but other dogs. Our church members may serve you dog one day. Do you think you will eat it?” He was smirking.
…
Mrs. Kim’s son, Tim, was visiting from the Philippines, where he attends university. Out of respect to the pastors at the church, and out of excitement to showcase Tim’s good English, she invited me to dinner at 5pm. Pastor Lee said that I would be an honored guest, though I could refuse if I already had plans. I was free, and I happily agreed to go.
Pastor Lee’s face was very serious when he said, “Mrs. Kim is very happy. But she is worried that you will not like the dinner. It is traditional Korean food. Will you eat dug?”
I needed him to clarify, “What did you say we would eat?” He said it again, this time a little louder, “Will you eat DUG?” I felt my eyes grow wider. I said, “You mean, DOG?” He shook his head yes, “That is what I mean—DUG.” I turned pale as I said, “O…K…”
Though I wanted to immediately manufacture an excuse not to attend, I was facing a pastoral dilemma. You see, I am a very adventurous eater. I have eaten things all over the world—spiced insect, duck brain (and bill), chicken throat, sheep stomach, cow colon, pig’s blood, goat fat—all kinds of offal, which is not all that awful actually! And I know that entering a new culture means trying new food and expanding your palate—not for the sake of food, but for the sake of relationship. If you want to truly reach the people, you must eat with them, have fun with them, and live among them.
Sure, you can draw lines. But you must be careful not to offend needlessly. Moreover, living overseas has opened my eyes to new things in the scriptures. I have come to see so much of Paul’s writings in their context: cross-cultural ministry. He was an apostle to the Gentiles, a people who were not his own. And it makes much sense that he would talk about cultural issues concerning food (and how self-preference and personal bias can cause us to miss opportunities to be a witness). He writes the following—“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17).” And—“If one of the unbelievers invites you to dinner and you are disposed to go, eat whatever is set before you without raising any question on the ground of conscience (1 Corinthians 10:27).” Also—“For everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected with thanksgiving, for it is made holy by the word of God and prayer (1 Timothy 4:4-5).” There is much more reading on the topic, such as Peter’s vision of the “unclean” food in Acts 10.
That day, as I was walking home, I “happened” to see five people walking their dog. I began feeling sick. I thought, could I really eat one of those? Or am I going to pass on this one? I was having a mini-crisis of faith and a deep feeling of culture clash. Perhaps, I reasoned, they will understand my reservations. I will rightly claim “weak faith” on this one! Or I will say, “It will offend my American friends if I eat dog.” In the end, I decided that I would wait until we arrived at the restaurant for a final verdict, although that left me 3 hours to “avoid” thinking about it. I prayed for strength and wisdom.
They came in the church van to pick me up. It felt like forever before we arrived, though it was just 30 minutes to reach the mountainside. It gave me more time pray. I prayed until we walked up to the door, above which was a big English sign that read…
Canaan Duck. I started laughing out loud. They laughed too, though they didn’t know what was so funny. They pointed out, “He is turning the color of his red shirt!”
We went on to enjoy a delicious dinner of grilled duck in lettuce wraps, with roasted potatoes and cinnamon-spiced persimmons. I worked up the nerve to tell them about my fears—that we were eating dog tonight. They really saw the humor in it, though the pastor was slightly embarrassed by his pronunciation of the word duck. He had that familiar smirk when he said, “I do not like dog. I only ate it when my poor country church members made it for me. But that has been 10 years. I do not plan to eat it again!”
The End. (For now. Though something tells me there may be another chapter ahead…)
“Oh my,” I said, “What happens next? Is there another chapter?”
Principal Yu replied, “No, that is the end.”
And now I am supposed to share this sad story with my elementary students? Oh well, I thought, I guess Koreans are realists. And I have a limited selection of English books to read to them. Guess it’s never too early to learn the hard truth—not every tale ends well.
…
DL was driving us home from dinner (at a salad bar) when he pointed at a restaurant and said, “Dog soup.” I quickly asked, “They serve DOG soup there?” He laughingly said, “At many places. Like there, and there…and there!”
Apparently, we were at the hotspot for dog dishes. And I don’t mean the cute red ones with “Fido” written on the side, that you fill with your dog’s water. I mean the ones where you put Fido in the water, boil him, and serve him to your friends.
I had forgotten that Koreans indeed eat dog. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind before coming, or since arriving, up to that point. I asked him, “Do you eat dog?” His answer, I thought quietly, could affect our friendship. He replied, “No. It is a traditional dish. Many of the older people eat it. Young people cannot stomach it.”
In a cruel twist of fate, that same street hosted an obedience school for dogs. It was called “Obey Academy.” That must be the place where they teach them not to run away.
…
Dinner had been exceptional. Pastor Lee invited me to his sister’s house. He said, “I want you to know that you are not an outsider. We welcome you as family.” The spread was amazing: Korean “pizza” (which is like a seafood pancake), tender beef, spicy kimchi and vegetables, and bean curd soup. It was the best meal I have had in Korea.
The family had a cute dog, which they let out of the bedroom to come eat the remaining scraps on our plates. I asked them, “What is his name?” Pastor Lee replied, “His name is Golgi.” “That is sweet,” I said, “What does that mean?” He said, “It means meat.”
“Did you say meat? As in, meat that you eat?” I said it almost incredulously, yet mostly embarrassed that I called the name sweet. I really need to learn Korean fast, I thought! I also fretted, that the next time they invited me the dog would no longer be alive. Maybe little Meat is next on the menu—and I just fattened him up?
Pastor Lee smiled, “Yes, it is just a funny name.” I breathed a cautious sigh of relief…
Then he said, “Many Koreans love to eat dog. Not our pets, but other dogs. Our church members may serve you dog one day. Do you think you will eat it?” He was smirking.
…
Mrs. Kim’s son, Tim, was visiting from the Philippines, where he attends university. Out of respect to the pastors at the church, and out of excitement to showcase Tim’s good English, she invited me to dinner at 5pm. Pastor Lee said that I would be an honored guest, though I could refuse if I already had plans. I was free, and I happily agreed to go.
Pastor Lee’s face was very serious when he said, “Mrs. Kim is very happy. But she is worried that you will not like the dinner. It is traditional Korean food. Will you eat dug?”
I needed him to clarify, “What did you say we would eat?” He said it again, this time a little louder, “Will you eat DUG?” I felt my eyes grow wider. I said, “You mean, DOG?” He shook his head yes, “That is what I mean—DUG.” I turned pale as I said, “O…K…”
Though I wanted to immediately manufacture an excuse not to attend, I was facing a pastoral dilemma. You see, I am a very adventurous eater. I have eaten things all over the world—spiced insect, duck brain (and bill), chicken throat, sheep stomach, cow colon, pig’s blood, goat fat—all kinds of offal, which is not all that awful actually! And I know that entering a new culture means trying new food and expanding your palate—not for the sake of food, but for the sake of relationship. If you want to truly reach the people, you must eat with them, have fun with them, and live among them.
Sure, you can draw lines. But you must be careful not to offend needlessly. Moreover, living overseas has opened my eyes to new things in the scriptures. I have come to see so much of Paul’s writings in their context: cross-cultural ministry. He was an apostle to the Gentiles, a people who were not his own. And it makes much sense that he would talk about cultural issues concerning food (and how self-preference and personal bias can cause us to miss opportunities to be a witness). He writes the following—“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17).” And—“If one of the unbelievers invites you to dinner and you are disposed to go, eat whatever is set before you without raising any question on the ground of conscience (1 Corinthians 10:27).” Also—“For everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected with thanksgiving, for it is made holy by the word of God and prayer (1 Timothy 4:4-5).” There is much more reading on the topic, such as Peter’s vision of the “unclean” food in Acts 10.
That day, as I was walking home, I “happened” to see five people walking their dog. I began feeling sick. I thought, could I really eat one of those? Or am I going to pass on this one? I was having a mini-crisis of faith and a deep feeling of culture clash. Perhaps, I reasoned, they will understand my reservations. I will rightly claim “weak faith” on this one! Or I will say, “It will offend my American friends if I eat dog.” In the end, I decided that I would wait until we arrived at the restaurant for a final verdict, although that left me 3 hours to “avoid” thinking about it. I prayed for strength and wisdom.
They came in the church van to pick me up. It felt like forever before we arrived, though it was just 30 minutes to reach the mountainside. It gave me more time pray. I prayed until we walked up to the door, above which was a big English sign that read…
Canaan Duck. I started laughing out loud. They laughed too, though they didn’t know what was so funny. They pointed out, “He is turning the color of his red shirt!”
We went on to enjoy a delicious dinner of grilled duck in lettuce wraps, with roasted potatoes and cinnamon-spiced persimmons. I worked up the nerve to tell them about my fears—that we were eating dog tonight. They really saw the humor in it, though the pastor was slightly embarrassed by his pronunciation of the word duck. He had that familiar smirk when he said, “I do not like dog. I only ate it when my poor country church members made it for me. But that has been 10 years. I do not plan to eat it again!”
The End. (For now. Though something tells me there may be another chapter ahead…)
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Children’s Day
Today is a national holiday here, called Children’s Day. Families take time together to celebrate the blessing of children. Many plan outings or visit grandparents in other cities.
In light of this, I decided to write this mid-week blog update to honor my students here. After all, the children at the school have been a constant source of joy. Of course, I have also come home with headaches on occasion. But, as the Chinese would say, “You cannot taste the sweet without also tasting the bitter!” And, the time I have shared with these students has been very sweet indeed.
My most entertaining student is a first grader named Rafael. His family lived in Slovakia for 5 years, and he speaks English well. My first week in class, he had to get used to hearing my accent, as he was previously taught by British teachers. Any time I used a new word, he would exclaim, “What this mean?” When I tried to explain that word, he would then yell, “Too much!” And, he would slap both hands on his head, as if to say, “Teacher, my brain is full!” I couldn’t help but laugh.
One time, during a lesson on feelings, I asked him, “Rafael, when do you feel afraid?” His eyes grew wide and he replied, “At night, my room becomes ZOO!” His mother would later tell me that Rafael feared his toys coming alive at night.
We were doing a lesson on animals when I asked him, “Rafael, the cow moos, the dog barks, and the cat meows. What does the pig do?” He stood up in his chair, stuck his arms out like wings, and yelled, “Pigs FLY!” Apparently, he was greatly entertained by somewhere hearing the English phrase, “When pigs fly…”
Last week, he asked me, “Do you speak Korean?” I said, “I am learning Korean, but I cannot speak it fluently yet.” He laughed and proclaimed, “I speak English. And I know Korean. I know everything!” Though, when I asked him to tell me his ABC’s, he left out the letter W twice. When I asked him why, he said, “Oh, I hate W!” I am not sure what exact grievance W could have caused, but you should have seen his look of disgust!
Of course, he and another classmate Anne (whose family lived in Thailand previously) also like to make trouble. One day, during Simon Says, they found it funny to only do the opposite of what I said. If I said, “stand up,” they would sit down. If I said, “sleep,” they would pretend to wake up. Honestly, I grew frustrated at first, feeling like they were disrespecting me. But then I thought, “Their English is now good enough to comprehend a word, think of the opposite, and then act it out. That is really a compliment to me, not an insult.” So I started laughing with them, and I grew proud of their efforts.
Anne is very creative. And she reads beautifully. For our show, she read a poem called, “I Do Not Want to Go to Bed,” while the others students did funny actions. One week, when we were doing lessons on prepositions of location (like under, in, on, in front of, etc), I asked them to draw a picture that answered the question, “Where is the cat?” She drew a beautiful castle, along with a cat wearing a princess hat, and she proudly told me, “The cat is in the Cat-sle!” Only the minds-eye of a child could think of such a thing!
Principal Yu also has two great children. Their English names are Audrey and Matthew. Audrey is as sharp as a knife and as tough as nails, with a competitive drive unrivaled by the others. Matthew is a class clown. And he doesn’t mind that he can’t speak English very well. He talks to me constantly, often in Korean, using charades when necessary.
My second day here, when we were out together for dinner, they asked if I was hungry. I said, “I am a hungry, hungry hippo!” Matthew found that hilarious. And he thought to translate it into Korean. So, thanks to him, my first Korean words will forever by “Baega go p’da, baega go p’da hama!”
He also gave me one of the kindest compliments. That same night, he put his hands on my cheeks, brought my face down low to his, and he just stared at me for minutes. He whispered something in Korean, and I asked Principal Yu what he said. She replied, “He said he wants a face like yours. You have the face like a full moon.”
Another student I treasure is a fifth grader named Yu Bin. His English gets better by the day, though I have had to drag him kicking and screaming. His first fluent phrases included, “I don’t want to study! I want to go home! I cannot speak English, so I will teach you Korean!” But, his frequent sighs are often endearing. When I was teaching a song, he changed the lyrics from, “I will be your friend forever” to “I want to go home forever.” I laughed out loud, and we ended up changing the whole song to a lament.
Yu Bin decided not to show up on time one day. He arrived 30 minutes late, after spending extra time on the playground down the street. I asked him, “Why didn’t you come to class?” He pointed to his head and explained, “My mind talked and told me that I did not have to come to class today, so I listened.” I was supposed to discipline him, but I was too busy enjoying the Konglish (Korean-English) version of the bumper sticker that reads, “I do what the voices in my head tell me to do.”
Yu Bin is also a skeptic. I did a lesson based on David and Goliath (small versus big). When I told the students that the story is true, Yu Bin retorted, “I think that this story is not true. That man is too big!” I said, “But God is bigger!” He looked at me in disbelief and said, “Not bigger than that guy!” I just smiled and prayed quietly in my heart.
…
One day, when doing word pairings (like fruits, vegetable, etc), Yu Bin asked me, out of the blue, “Do you pray?” I have come to expect what Jesus said, that the Holy Spirit is like the wind, and you cannot predict when He is going to move. So, I stopped his lesson and replied, “Yes, I pray. Do you?” He said, “No. I think that God is not alive.”
“Oh,” I said, “So you believe that God doesn’t exist?” He replied, “Yes, I think you cannot see Him, so he is not real.” I pointed to my heart and said, “Perhaps you should look to see God with the eyes of your heart, not your physical eyes.” He inquired, “If I see God, will he look like a person?” I said, “Actually, Jesus is God. So, yes, if we want to know what God is like, we should learn about Jesus.”
He asked, “Does God make poor people?” I was silenced, until I replied, “This world is not our true home. God has prepared a perfect home in heaven, if we believe in Him.” He asked, “Why don’t my grandparents go to church?” I said, “They may not know about God. Maybe we can invite them!” He said, “Yes, we should invite them!” He then resumed his interest in the English lesson.
When I returned home, I thought to myself, “How amazing that God is working on his heart, and all I have to do is show up and be available!” But, wow, what difficult theological and cultural questions! How exactly does God reveal Himself? Does God cause suffering? If God is real, why don’t the oldest and wisest people in my family believe in and worship Him? Even if we communicated fluently, those are tough.
For now, I am resting in the truth that God’s love can overcome language barriers and that He is faithful even as we face the questions that keep us from coming to Him. So, let us thank Him for the gift of children on this Children’s Day! Would you also please pray with me, that they will know Jesus and be His children eternally?
In light of this, I decided to write this mid-week blog update to honor my students here. After all, the children at the school have been a constant source of joy. Of course, I have also come home with headaches on occasion. But, as the Chinese would say, “You cannot taste the sweet without also tasting the bitter!” And, the time I have shared with these students has been very sweet indeed.
My most entertaining student is a first grader named Rafael. His family lived in Slovakia for 5 years, and he speaks English well. My first week in class, he had to get used to hearing my accent, as he was previously taught by British teachers. Any time I used a new word, he would exclaim, “What this mean?” When I tried to explain that word, he would then yell, “Too much!” And, he would slap both hands on his head, as if to say, “Teacher, my brain is full!” I couldn’t help but laugh.
One time, during a lesson on feelings, I asked him, “Rafael, when do you feel afraid?” His eyes grew wide and he replied, “At night, my room becomes ZOO!” His mother would later tell me that Rafael feared his toys coming alive at night.
We were doing a lesson on animals when I asked him, “Rafael, the cow moos, the dog barks, and the cat meows. What does the pig do?” He stood up in his chair, stuck his arms out like wings, and yelled, “Pigs FLY!” Apparently, he was greatly entertained by somewhere hearing the English phrase, “When pigs fly…”
Last week, he asked me, “Do you speak Korean?” I said, “I am learning Korean, but I cannot speak it fluently yet.” He laughed and proclaimed, “I speak English. And I know Korean. I know everything!” Though, when I asked him to tell me his ABC’s, he left out the letter W twice. When I asked him why, he said, “Oh, I hate W!” I am not sure what exact grievance W could have caused, but you should have seen his look of disgust!
Of course, he and another classmate Anne (whose family lived in Thailand previously) also like to make trouble. One day, during Simon Says, they found it funny to only do the opposite of what I said. If I said, “stand up,” they would sit down. If I said, “sleep,” they would pretend to wake up. Honestly, I grew frustrated at first, feeling like they were disrespecting me. But then I thought, “Their English is now good enough to comprehend a word, think of the opposite, and then act it out. That is really a compliment to me, not an insult.” So I started laughing with them, and I grew proud of their efforts.
Anne is very creative. And she reads beautifully. For our show, she read a poem called, “I Do Not Want to Go to Bed,” while the others students did funny actions. One week, when we were doing lessons on prepositions of location (like under, in, on, in front of, etc), I asked them to draw a picture that answered the question, “Where is the cat?” She drew a beautiful castle, along with a cat wearing a princess hat, and she proudly told me, “The cat is in the Cat-sle!” Only the minds-eye of a child could think of such a thing!
Principal Yu also has two great children. Their English names are Audrey and Matthew. Audrey is as sharp as a knife and as tough as nails, with a competitive drive unrivaled by the others. Matthew is a class clown. And he doesn’t mind that he can’t speak English very well. He talks to me constantly, often in Korean, using charades when necessary.
My second day here, when we were out together for dinner, they asked if I was hungry. I said, “I am a hungry, hungry hippo!” Matthew found that hilarious. And he thought to translate it into Korean. So, thanks to him, my first Korean words will forever by “Baega go p’da, baega go p’da hama!”
He also gave me one of the kindest compliments. That same night, he put his hands on my cheeks, brought my face down low to his, and he just stared at me for minutes. He whispered something in Korean, and I asked Principal Yu what he said. She replied, “He said he wants a face like yours. You have the face like a full moon.”
Another student I treasure is a fifth grader named Yu Bin. His English gets better by the day, though I have had to drag him kicking and screaming. His first fluent phrases included, “I don’t want to study! I want to go home! I cannot speak English, so I will teach you Korean!” But, his frequent sighs are often endearing. When I was teaching a song, he changed the lyrics from, “I will be your friend forever” to “I want to go home forever.” I laughed out loud, and we ended up changing the whole song to a lament.
Yu Bin decided not to show up on time one day. He arrived 30 minutes late, after spending extra time on the playground down the street. I asked him, “Why didn’t you come to class?” He pointed to his head and explained, “My mind talked and told me that I did not have to come to class today, so I listened.” I was supposed to discipline him, but I was too busy enjoying the Konglish (Korean-English) version of the bumper sticker that reads, “I do what the voices in my head tell me to do.”
Yu Bin is also a skeptic. I did a lesson based on David and Goliath (small versus big). When I told the students that the story is true, Yu Bin retorted, “I think that this story is not true. That man is too big!” I said, “But God is bigger!” He looked at me in disbelief and said, “Not bigger than that guy!” I just smiled and prayed quietly in my heart.
…
One day, when doing word pairings (like fruits, vegetable, etc), Yu Bin asked me, out of the blue, “Do you pray?” I have come to expect what Jesus said, that the Holy Spirit is like the wind, and you cannot predict when He is going to move. So, I stopped his lesson and replied, “Yes, I pray. Do you?” He said, “No. I think that God is not alive.”
“Oh,” I said, “So you believe that God doesn’t exist?” He replied, “Yes, I think you cannot see Him, so he is not real.” I pointed to my heart and said, “Perhaps you should look to see God with the eyes of your heart, not your physical eyes.” He inquired, “If I see God, will he look like a person?” I said, “Actually, Jesus is God. So, yes, if we want to know what God is like, we should learn about Jesus.”
He asked, “Does God make poor people?” I was silenced, until I replied, “This world is not our true home. God has prepared a perfect home in heaven, if we believe in Him.” He asked, “Why don’t my grandparents go to church?” I said, “They may not know about God. Maybe we can invite them!” He said, “Yes, we should invite them!” He then resumed his interest in the English lesson.
When I returned home, I thought to myself, “How amazing that God is working on his heart, and all I have to do is show up and be available!” But, wow, what difficult theological and cultural questions! How exactly does God reveal Himself? Does God cause suffering? If God is real, why don’t the oldest and wisest people in my family believe in and worship Him? Even if we communicated fluently, those are tough.
For now, I am resting in the truth that God’s love can overcome language barriers and that He is faithful even as we face the questions that keep us from coming to Him. So, let us thank Him for the gift of children on this Children’s Day! Would you also please pray with me, that they will know Jesus and be His children eternally?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
The Big Show
Yesterday was the “big show,” where all my students performed English acts before anxious parents, who couldn’t wait to see if I am actually teaching something.
The kids did a good job. Honestly I was nervous, since rehearsals were still rough. I know that most teachers will identify with that “this is going to end horribly” feeling, only to have their kids pull off something amazing (more than you even imagined) when the show day arrives. But I also think it says something sad about human nature: that we do as little as we have to when we don’t have an audience watching, but when the lights come up—we sing and dance our hearts out…
…
Some days, I feel like a big show. My being here is a constant point of fascination for the Koreans in this area. The children like to touch my face, pet my arms (because they have not seen so much arm hair before), and poke my stomach. When I arrive at school, they want to open my bag, dig through my desk, and see what’s in my wallet. One time, when Principal Yu brought her family for a visit to my home, the children opened the fridge and looked through my wardrobe. They did thorough investigative work.
It’s not just the children. The adults are constantly wondering about me. They will ask each other, “Do you know if he wants to marry a Korean woman? Do you know what he eats for dinner? Do you know if he has friends?” Sometimes they guess. Other times, they send a “brave” representative to ask me. Also, they make a fuss over me. “Your clothes are not warm enough! You need a better umbrella! You must eat more!”
One time, my landlord saw a pizza box in my trash bin, and he proceeded to tell the pastor, “He likes pizza!” It became an exciting discovery for the whole church, I guess, as many people approached me about this topic later. Moreover, there must be a church announcement over every move I make. Sometimes random members will approach me and say, “You went to Seoul yesterday.” Um, yes, I did. Or, “You have a mirror in your bathroom, so you can shave your face.” “You like to eat garlic, spicy food, and soup. You must really be Korean at heart!” And there you have the core of the issue: a constant searching for ways that we are alike and ways that we are different. Human nature, I think, to wonder “How foreign is this foreigner from us, exactly?”
This shows itself best at the grocery store. People will stare at my cart to see what is inside. The lady at the check-out counter takes extra time to scan my items (so as to catalogue the stuff in her mind, to perhaps share some juicy information with her friends and family later). On occasion, people will follow me down the aisle, to see what I am buying, or even lift things out of my cart to get a closer look.
I have given up on taking “helpers” with me to shop. In fact, I now keep it a secret when I go to stores, as church members will volunteer to go. When they do, it becomes an ordeal. Why? Because they must comment on everything I buy. And they will not let me lift a finger, as they want to put it in my cart for me. So I have to try to tell them what I want. It always ends with them running off, bringing something back that they think I mean, though I am staring and pointing at the item that I want on the shelf in front of me.
One time, a lady decided that I didn’t need paper towels. She said, “Too expensive!” She insisted that Koreans use toilet paper to clean their homes. I said, “But that paper is too flimsy!” Blank stare. Okay, how do I describe flimsy? I tried again, “It will tear too easily when I try to use it.” She smiled gleefully and said, “Yes, it will tear at the lines!” She thought I was now joyful about the perforations on her pick of toilet paper. She wasn’t picking up on the fact that I was still disagreeing. By the way, the paper towels were only 50 cents more.
She also became bothered when I tried to buy store brand orange juice. I actually love the juice here. It is fresh-squeezed, as opposed to sugar water. However, she insisted that I would only like the imported Minute Maid orange juice. It cost $5 more. I said, “No, I think it is too expensive! I like this kind.” She frowned and said, “I know that you will not like it. This is from Korea. That is from America. You must have that juice.”
Why I also decided to buy a pillow case that day, I do not know. I must be a masochist. I wanted the plain white one for $3. She said, “No, you should buy this one!” It was a flowery pillow case, for $6. I said, “The price is higher. And it has flowers.” She said, “Your wife will like you to have it.” I protested to no avail, “I am not married.” She looked very hurt, as if her intention was to bring me future martial bliss, and I was scorning her advice. “Oh great,” I thought, “My shopping is first a point of national curiosity. Now, this lady is making my home needs about her personal worth.” So I bought the silly thing.
…
In the end, if my future wife does come to my home here, she will find things dirtier than usual, with mounds of flimsy toilet paper that wouldn’t hold up to the chore. Plus, she will discover way-too-expensive orange juice as my only means of sustenance, since I couldn’t afford the other food I needed. But, if I can just get her to see my pillow case…
The kids did a good job. Honestly I was nervous, since rehearsals were still rough. I know that most teachers will identify with that “this is going to end horribly” feeling, only to have their kids pull off something amazing (more than you even imagined) when the show day arrives. But I also think it says something sad about human nature: that we do as little as we have to when we don’t have an audience watching, but when the lights come up—we sing and dance our hearts out…
…
Some days, I feel like a big show. My being here is a constant point of fascination for the Koreans in this area. The children like to touch my face, pet my arms (because they have not seen so much arm hair before), and poke my stomach. When I arrive at school, they want to open my bag, dig through my desk, and see what’s in my wallet. One time, when Principal Yu brought her family for a visit to my home, the children opened the fridge and looked through my wardrobe. They did thorough investigative work.
It’s not just the children. The adults are constantly wondering about me. They will ask each other, “Do you know if he wants to marry a Korean woman? Do you know what he eats for dinner? Do you know if he has friends?” Sometimes they guess. Other times, they send a “brave” representative to ask me. Also, they make a fuss over me. “Your clothes are not warm enough! You need a better umbrella! You must eat more!”
One time, my landlord saw a pizza box in my trash bin, and he proceeded to tell the pastor, “He likes pizza!” It became an exciting discovery for the whole church, I guess, as many people approached me about this topic later. Moreover, there must be a church announcement over every move I make. Sometimes random members will approach me and say, “You went to Seoul yesterday.” Um, yes, I did. Or, “You have a mirror in your bathroom, so you can shave your face.” “You like to eat garlic, spicy food, and soup. You must really be Korean at heart!” And there you have the core of the issue: a constant searching for ways that we are alike and ways that we are different. Human nature, I think, to wonder “How foreign is this foreigner from us, exactly?”
This shows itself best at the grocery store. People will stare at my cart to see what is inside. The lady at the check-out counter takes extra time to scan my items (so as to catalogue the stuff in her mind, to perhaps share some juicy information with her friends and family later). On occasion, people will follow me down the aisle, to see what I am buying, or even lift things out of my cart to get a closer look.
I have given up on taking “helpers” with me to shop. In fact, I now keep it a secret when I go to stores, as church members will volunteer to go. When they do, it becomes an ordeal. Why? Because they must comment on everything I buy. And they will not let me lift a finger, as they want to put it in my cart for me. So I have to try to tell them what I want. It always ends with them running off, bringing something back that they think I mean, though I am staring and pointing at the item that I want on the shelf in front of me.
One time, a lady decided that I didn’t need paper towels. She said, “Too expensive!” She insisted that Koreans use toilet paper to clean their homes. I said, “But that paper is too flimsy!” Blank stare. Okay, how do I describe flimsy? I tried again, “It will tear too easily when I try to use it.” She smiled gleefully and said, “Yes, it will tear at the lines!” She thought I was now joyful about the perforations on her pick of toilet paper. She wasn’t picking up on the fact that I was still disagreeing. By the way, the paper towels were only 50 cents more.
She also became bothered when I tried to buy store brand orange juice. I actually love the juice here. It is fresh-squeezed, as opposed to sugar water. However, she insisted that I would only like the imported Minute Maid orange juice. It cost $5 more. I said, “No, I think it is too expensive! I like this kind.” She frowned and said, “I know that you will not like it. This is from Korea. That is from America. You must have that juice.”
Why I also decided to buy a pillow case that day, I do not know. I must be a masochist. I wanted the plain white one for $3. She said, “No, you should buy this one!” It was a flowery pillow case, for $6. I said, “The price is higher. And it has flowers.” She said, “Your wife will like you to have it.” I protested to no avail, “I am not married.” She looked very hurt, as if her intention was to bring me future martial bliss, and I was scorning her advice. “Oh great,” I thought, “My shopping is first a point of national curiosity. Now, this lady is making my home needs about her personal worth.” So I bought the silly thing.
…
In the end, if my future wife does come to my home here, she will find things dirtier than usual, with mounds of flimsy toilet paper that wouldn’t hold up to the chore. Plus, she will discover way-too-expensive orange juice as my only means of sustenance, since I couldn’t afford the other food I needed. But, if I can just get her to see my pillow case…
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