Going to Korea having read more than a few million printed words about the country was truly a journey bringing imagined foregone reality in constant clash with an excitingly energizing present. Such an experience on a personal level is perhaps comparable to a K-pop fan’s pilgrimage to Korea, “knowing” the country only too well through watching those hundreds of hours of K-drama and pop music videos. My first extended visit to Korea could have left me with much post-hyper-energy fatigue and disorientation due to the rich mental clashes between the imagined and the real. But thanks to the structure of a 12-week language-learning program sponsored by the Harvard Korea Institute, a highly-charged trip was temperated by a sense of purpose, learning anew and modesty in accessing a society from the most essential social etiquettes and the most basic conversations.
The KGP200 Immersive Program at Sogang University is the ideal place to begin the journey. True to its fame as the most effective “surviving in Korea with speaking Korean” program anywhere in Korea, KGP200’s daily 4-hour-long language workshop organizes its conversations around those circumstances where you need the language the most: names of the most common Korean dishes; how to order food at a Korean restaurant politely; what to say to a taxi driver when you wants to get somewhere quick and how to book roundtrip coach tickets to Busan or Kwangju from Seoul Highway Bus Terminal. As the ultimate goal of my learning Korean is to equip myself with the ability to conduct interviews with Korean-speaking filmmakers for my PhD research, I find the KGP200 to be particularly helpful in overcoming the psychological anxiety that faces all beginners of a new language. To be fair, Harvard’s own Korean language classes provides very solid grammar-based Korean learning. But Sogang’s workshop, whose daily four-hour class session (one-hour writing, two hours speaking and one-hour listening comprehension) makes it a rule to have all in-class interaction, simple and complex, conduct in Korean only. Most impressively, even for listening comprehension, our work is presented orally, rather than in writing. Sogang’s textbook is also remarkable in that it is designed to train students’ ease in initiating small talks in Korean. Rather than waiting for a situation to arise for one to practice some fixed phrases, Sogang’s textbook is much more proactive on the students’ part to start a conversation. KGP200 also leaves the better half of the day (in my opinion) entirely to the workshop participants. I cannot be more grateful to those free-roaming afternoon hours that together with my classmates I spent exploring Seoul’s many popular spots while finding the vocabulary and sentence structures we learned from class in earnest use with patient locals. For very selfish reasons, the most memorable part of the program is the care and kindness I found in those who, only a few months ago, were complete strangers. I remember on the first day of class, our Korean language instructor asked us one by one about our birthdays, only to find a few weeks later on the day of my birthday my classmates have bought a most beautiful cake for my 31st birthday while the teacher crowned me with the fanciest headwear I have ever worn.
Seoul’s other most memorable experience has to do with hanging out with the staunchly patriotic and freedom-loving young Seoulites. On a late July day, I watched with awe and envy at what is perhaps the world’s biggest self-organized water-gun shooting festival in Sinchon. The awe has to do with the fact that it was simply a massive event, with tens of thousands of young people filing in to the party from every corner of the metropolis. The envy welled up when I realized that for such a massive assembly of people there was no prior authorization from the police, nor were there any visible presence of public security apparatus. Over here in the states, one may be forgiven to take freedom for granted, but on that day, only a few hundred kilometers away from the heavy artillery garrisons of North Korea, I could not help but feeling empowered and moved by those young Seoulites who “practice” freedom so heartily in the hope that freedom can expand and increase for everyone.
On another occasion when I went to check out the Korean War Memorial Museum, I met with three old gentlemen taking turns to taking pictures of each standing in front of a victory statute. With my broken Korean, I offered to take a group photo for them, only to find myself receiving a passion-filled history lesson from several handsome Korean teenagers, who were the grandsons of those old gentlemen from the Andong region to the South of Seoul. There were also a few dinner parties and language exchange parties in the posh Itaewon area, where my native companions enthusiastically informed me in fluent English on an older generation’s struggle for democracy and their Candle Light protest against former president Park Geun-hye’s office merely two years ago. Their sincere investment in national politics and deep respect for predecessors were contagious. Their familiarity with US-Korean relations past and present was so extensive that it was a shock to me that they were in such diverse professions as accounting, meat imports, acting and the civil service, rather than the usual suspects of academic historians. I also had the honor to be twice a guest at a study group called HOPE in Seoul, organized by some recent graduates of the Korean Ivy League Unis. Over there, I was informed for the first time that the Candle Light Movement was organized on the basis of small voluntary groups such as their own. Listening to their conversations about societal issues and social ideals, I could not help but feeling hopeful that South Korea’s next generation will command even more respect from other nations around the world.
Travelling in Korea was also a great learning experience. Forsaking the comfort and efficiency of the state-of-the-art KTX trains, I went to Busan taking a very cheap long-distance coach favored by the less well-to-do locals. The six-hour bus ride crisscrossing various small towns and rural valleys was not only a much-appreciated distraction from the hustle and bustle of Seoul. It also opens up one’s mind about what stands out as Koreanology by connecting dots at unexpected places. I was especially impressed by the beautiful, wavy terrain of the Korean landscape. It is a landscape unlike anywhere else I have seen. Mountains create valleys and river basins large and small throughout the six-hour bus ride. Small villages and bigger townships find their places at the foot of hills while enjoying plentiful access to rivers, creeks and irrigated paddies. Such is the deep knowledge involved in choosing where to populate and where to bury the deceased, I was struck by the inadequacy of the word “geomancy” or Shaman belief systems in characterizing this ancient system of learning to cope with nature’s hostilities while benefiting from its abundance. If geomancy is agreed to be a great cultural heritage in Korean ecological thinking and practice, I would venture to suggest that maybe econology is a term that better captures the practical usefulness and proven wisdom of such a knowledge system. The landscape also inspired me to think for the first time that the central circle in the Korean national flag, known as the Taegukgi, with its wavy two halves of blue and red may very well symbolize the skyline and the hilly earth, with one shaping the form of the other, for that is the picture one gets everywhere in the gentle and gorgeous Korean countryside.
It was also a great pleasure watching ordinary people going about their daily lives in Korea. In Busan, the Gamcheon villagers hanging their hand-washed clothes at dusk was a particularly poetic moment. Soon after daybreak, the fishermen throwing their fresh catch to their middle-aged wives on the dockyard in Haeundae was also full of the rhythm of life. I remember passing through one narrow alley in Gamcheon village, climbing the steep stairs that have been featured in many popular Korean dramas, one old lady grabbed me by my arm, speaking to me with a strong Busan accent while pointing at my forehead. Before I could fully comprehend her surprise move, she quickly shuffled into her house and came back with a cup of iced water. It was there I realized that I have been sweating quite a lot. But such was the kindness of an ordinary Korean person, it was simply the most beautiful experience I get from exploring the land of a people who before this trip only spoke to me in printed texts.
For some family-related reasons, my plans for staying in Korea were cut short by two weeks. Most regrettably, I had to leave before I could pay tribute to the Kwangju Revolution martyrs. But knowing that my experience with this culture and this land will continue back in Harvard provides some solace. Just as I made promises to my new friends in Korea, should another opportunity come about, I would not hesitate to go the Korea again. 다시 만나 (see you again)!