It's come to my attention how very American I am.
I talk to loud. I talk to fast. I laugh to loud and without covering my mouth. I walk to fast.

In my intercultural studies class, we talked about how we are slaves to our own cultures. No matter how long we live in another culture, we still still be where we came from. I'm seeing now how true that is.

The word "assimilation" entered my mind last night. I hadn't thought of it since I had been here. Prior to that, when I heard that word I always pictured the Sudanese women in Sioux Falls who picked up a box of tampons and turned it round and round, trying to figure out what they were. Assimilation was for the foriegners. Those with long robes and names that I couldn't pronounce.

Now, I'm the foriegner.

I'm the one with the name no one can pronouce.

Actually, they do a really good job, but that's because everyone here has studied English since they were 5.

Which brings me to another point. I like Korea. I like living here and I like the people. But, my God am I glad I'm not Korean. Every senior in high school is trying to get into Harvard or another outstanding American university. Girls must do whatever it takes to be as thin as possible, and the health books point to this as well. Standards for body image and social status are off the charts, and understandably, there is a relatively high suicide rate.
While I value my family incredibly highly, I reserve the right to date and marry who ever I chose, regardless of ethnicity or social status. Those in Korea who are not fortunate enough to have this opportunity will marry someone mom and dad find suitable then sleep around on the side while the significant other ignores it, is blind to it, or simply pretends it doesn't happen.

There are "Love Motels," all over the place. These are places which are for the very reason you will guess based on their name. Motels for gettin' it on where only you, your partner, and the dude (or chic I suppose) who checks you in will know you are there. Oh, and the parking attendant. As the "lucky" couple pulls into their coital destination, they need not fear that Aunt Kim-Yung will pass by, see thier car and report them to spouse, parents, or community members. No, fortunately for them, there are large drapery type things hanging above the entrance to the parking garage, conviently blocking ones view from car make, model, and license plate. In the photo, you can't see the drapery covered entrance, but when I went to take a photo the man sitting there looked like he might get up and chase me away, but as you can see, there are lots of little buildings surrounding it, and with name like "Motel Feel," well, you get the idea.

Also, the two most obnoxious things about South Korea
1. Very few public garbage cans
2. The cars are the same color-White, Silver/Grey, Black. Korea is all about conformity, and frankly, that just drives me nuts.

But all that aside, I like Korea. All the above was written from an outsider's perspective who has only witnessed three months of a culture a few millenia old. There are positives for certain. Children respect thier parents (though maybe too much for my liking, going back to 30 year olds who will marry unhappily to please mama and pop). The food is delicious (mashisoyo in Korean). And Koreans share everything! Children share thier snacks without being told, or ever being asked by a friend. They just give thier stuff away! (Which comes in really handy when students bring candy to school and pile it up in my hands) My two coworkers shared a boiled potato! No matter how small, it's broken and shared and I think that's really beautiful and the point where I hope my assimilation begins.


Ok, all for now.


PS-Watch out for the motorbike drivers on the sidewalk.