Prepatory Thoughts
Anxiety and Excitement
Having been almost thirteen years since I last visited Korea -and this being my first time visiting Japan- I initially believed I would be excited by the prospect of being able to experience my homeland as a rather more self-aware and independent individual. Little doubts and anxieties began seeping in; nothing serious, but things worth writing about. The last time I went I was a six year old boy, hardly able to think for myself and more an extension of my mother than anything else; the language barrier only exacerbated that attachment. Unfortunately, now and then, the trip was made under less than ideal circumstances, each visit following the death of one of my mother’s parents.
It’s a shame the trip couldn’t be for more happy reasons, but count on Asian pragmatism to make the trip encompass as many disparate things as can be crammed into a month long funeral visit.
To be honest, I didn’t think much about what I would do in Japan or Korea during the entire semester long build-up until very recently. I sort of naïvely assumed the trip’s logistics would be taken care of by my Mother, Father, or whichever relative I would be staying with across the rather large pond that is the Pacific Ocean. It only occured to me that as a twenty year old (in Korea), I would probably be given free reign to roam the streets on my own.
Now, in the U.S. this is a given, my first steps of independence as a young adult are being exercised here in the states,but in Korea and especially Japan, traveling with rudimentary or nonexistent native language skills would be rather difficult -impossible even- if not for the wonders of modern technology. My freedom of movement would be hampered not by youth (something I can’t do much about), but by lack of fluency, an acquirable skill. In Korea I can get by, albeit while looking sort of mentally deficient, but in Japan, I can’t voice my questions, comments, or requests. In effect, I’m mute and alone in the day to day travails.
And that’s where these blog posts come in.This will be my only link to the anglosphere (not true) and through it, I will communicate my thoughts about the Far East.You might have noticed the small grey plus signs that pop up when you mouse over a paragraph. This allows you to post comments on that specific paragraph and share your thoughts about my writing. *It’s also come to my attention that if you’re not logged in to your twitter account, or haven’t made a medium account, you can’t leave comments, and I assume the majority of people (friends) aren’t going to make accounts just to post comments, which is totally understandable.*
Conflict of Interest
Anyway, Japan is interesting to me for two reasons. One, it is the proclaimed mortal enemy to the Korean Peninsula. And two, amongst my favorite design aesthetics are located in Japan. One can see why this can create a bit of awkward tension. As an architect (in training, don’t kid yourself), knowing what qualities of design you admire is important in the development of one’s own style and philosophy. The minimal, clean and sparse design ethic of Japan very much interests me, influencing my work as much as sleek Scandinavian and rustic Korean aesthetics do. But any positive expressions of appreciation or admiration of Japan uttered within earshot of my parents draws scolding remarks and exasperated sighs.
What am I to do? Hide my affectations like a hormonal teenager’s secret romance (you’re still nineteen)? Proudly proclaim my preferences and “screw the haters”? I suppose judicious caution is the best way forward. Regardless, I’m told I’m somehow “betraying my motherland” by expressing my appreciation for Japanese design. Sort of a communist platitude, wouldn’t you think mom? I swear I’m not obsessed, just appreciative. Then again, two thirds of the list I had drawn up last week on the buildings, cafes, and museums I wished to visit was comprised of locations in Japan. I sort of understand where my mother is coming from, but as far as I know, Korean aesthetic and design doesn’t have enough life of its own to stand on its own on the international stage. Maybe I’m wrong, I hope I am, and I hope the latter half of the trip will convince me.
Korea will be tough, but in a different manner than the peaceful isolation I’ll be experiencing in Japan. My struggles will come from actually understanding the out-of-context fragments of speech of my relatives and kinsmen. I’ve heard (just heard) that East Asians in general shun those of their kind who can’t speak their mother tongue fluently, and regard them as less than whatever ethnicity in question. At least in Japan, as a legitimate foreigner, I’ll be treated politely and even if people say things behind my back, I’ll be none the wiser. But as a Korean in Korea, it’ll be as if I’m open to all criticism, and boy do Koreans love to criticize without providing solutions, or when they do, its their own proprietary constructions. It’s in our nature, and this outspoken criticism, I feel like, developed out of a need to voice the displeasure and anxiety of being sandwiched between two powerhouses (China and Japan).
I know I shouldn’t generalize, and this train of thought originates from observing my parents, as well as interacting with the majority of my church members. “The Irish of Asia” I vaguely recall hearing from somewhere. Not sure whether that’s more offensive to Irishmen or to Koreans.
Another layer to this issue will be my face. Most people, Koreans included, guess my ethnicity wrong more than half the time (statistic I pulled out of my ass, but if feels right). Being visually unrecognizable as a Korean might make things even harder on me. I know I’ll be treated fine most likely, and I should have nothing to worry about, but I’m an anxious fella, and it’ll bug me until I get there. I have a few humorous anecdotes about people unwilling to believe my ethnicity, but those are for later. I’ll write about how I’m treated if it becomes pertinent.
It’s probably the eyebrows.
