Anyone who's ever lived in or been to a foreign country will tell you that a lot of challenges arise when you step into something unfamiliar. Anyone who's been to the same foreign country more than once will also tell you that these challenges don't necessarily go away the more you are there, regardless of how less unfamiliar a place grows to you. They may change or they may stay the same, but they definitely don't leave.
This has been true on the deepest levels for me as I've returned to this strange land they call South Korea. One thing in particular I've been thinking about a lot lately came up because of 아줌마, or ajummas, and 아저씨, or ajosshis...aka the older women and men that wander the busses and subways, pushing people out of the way like they have no right to be in their path. The first several times I got elbowed by one, my immediate reaction was of anger and disbelief ("What the...? Who does she think she is?? Just because she's old doesn't mean she gets to treat people like that!" and so on). I didn't think it was right that older people in this country had such a sense of entitlement in regards to how they could act, based solely on their age. The challenge for me then was to control how I reacted to their actions by just brushing it off and not letting it get to me. The longer I was here, though, the more I began to understand the reasons behind their behavior and its relation to the behavior of those around them who were younger. And as I better understood that, the challenge for me was to try to see myself from their point of view: younger by a lot, and a foreigner to boot--someone who in many of their eyes didn't belong in their country. Now, at the midpoint of my second year here, I have begun to react in a different manner; to not just understand their behavior and my own but to think about what both mean in allowing us to coexist. The challenge I face now (or rather have given myself) is to take a closer look at myself and see my own sense of entitlement that I, as a foreigner, have carried around.
Talk to almost any new (or, occasionally, not so new) expat in Korea and you'll see it right away. We step off the planes from our respective countries expecting, in varying degrees, that things will continue as they always have for us. Yes, we know there will be differences, but I think we expect that in most cases they will be only little changes in our daily life. And, in most cases, we will be right. But what we don't necessarily anticipate is that some of these little things will end up being bigger frustrations than we'd planned for. The pushiness of elderly people on the subway, the sea of similar faces around us, the difficulties in communicating...things that cause us to realize there's a lot we took for granted back home. To me that is such a blessing in disguise, though--the things that frustrate us are also the things through which we can learn the most if we're open to it.
The sense of entitlement that foreigners carry with them here comes in the form of walking in here like we own the place, expecting things to be how we think they should, expecting that the Koreans around us will understand that we're different and why and that people will be accommodating. All this in order for us to have the time of our lives in this crazy new country, making good money and traveling and having cool new adventures. And those things do happen, in large part due to the effort that we put in to making them. But that confident attitude and a desire to live life to the fullest can also be our downfall if it becomes overconfidence or cockiness, and a desire for things to go the way we plan for them to go. If we're not able to stay open to the possibility of things sometimes honestly just sucking, and to the inevitabilities of being embarrassed, committing a cultural faux pas or several, and realizing it's not always as easy here as we thought it was going to be.
All of us learn pretty early on that our sense of entitlement is a false one. There's not much we really can expect to be handed here, and even less ways in which we can expect to be accommodated. We find that out the day we arrive, or at least our first day at work. The thing is, though, we're not entitled to feel entitled anyway. In making the choice to be here, we've be default also chosen to accept whatever "here" means.
That's theoretical, of course :) It's not easy nor is it always possible to accept what frustrates us about the situations in which we wanted to be. But there is a subsequent choice, one that's not by default, and it's the one that turns theoretical into practical and practical into valuable. There is a lot that we sacrifice by entering a place and a life different (to any extent) from what we've always known and what is familiar to us. For me, in Korea, the biggest sacrifice has been the community that I've always had around me--first with church and family as I grew up and later with friends and some extended family at EMU. This was the case last time and I knew it would be again this time, but I thought I would welcome it as an opportunity to get to know myself better and rely on myself more, to become stronger as a person. Instead, although I continued to enjoy myself, I became lonely and threw myself into whatever connections were easiest, regardless of whether or not they were solid. There are a few people close to me who bore the brunt of that; for some, it's meant relying more heavily than I probably should have on their friendship, and for others, it's meant an inability to stay in touch as I hoped to. To those people (I hope you know who you are), I both thank you and apologize if my doing either the former or the latter has created any strain. I feel like I've learned so much in the past months, yet I have so much further to go. I am only just now, at the halfway point of this second contract, coming to truly appreciate where I find myself for what it is to me: a time in my life in which I can discover what it means to create my own happiness. See what it looks like to do the things I love and really feel alive while also finding a balance in my relationships with those around me. And feel what it is to make the choice (and this is the one that makes all the difference) to take the sacrifices that come with living in Korea and turn them into opportunities for growth and challenge.
This is not something that's going to be particularly easy for me. As I read over those last few sentences, I know this is an adjustment in perspective that will require more awareness than I've had so far. But it's something that I know I need to do and which I know I will emerge from stronger and more confident in who I am and where I'm going.
As always, I hope this finds you all well and happy. I can't believe that I've already been here six months; the time has dragged at times but ultimately flown by, and I fully expect the next six months to fly even faster as I settle in for a good summer in Busan. Please continue to comment on my writing and photos if you like--I really do appreciate the feedback and your thoughts. There are links to Facebook photo albums from the past couple weeks below (sorry, I know there are a lot since I haven't posted in two months...oops).
Much love and hugs to everyone,
Heather :)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016483&id=148800130&l=93e9ecd8ed
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016504&id=148800130&l=8b8440b56c
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2015574&id=148800130&l=e53cb45170
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016900&id=148800130&l=f7bbb1e55b
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016901&id=148800130&l=75b53db9c1 http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016930&id=148800130&l=342f82df20
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016931&id=148800130&l=d6aad9ef3a
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