Annyahasayo is Korean for hello

Jeonju

I left home a month ago.

At the beginning of November I left Scottsbluff to begin a job as an English teacher in Jeonju, South Korea.

Since March 2005 I have lived on a 180 acre farm 9 miles east of Scottsbluff—my closest neighbor one-fourth of a mile away.

Now I live in a city where the first sights of the morning, through my studio apartment window, are power lines and the tops of shorter buildings.

Out the front door of my building, across the street, is a 20-plus story apartment building that occupies most of the block. Which (though to this Nebraskan it seems quite large) is a common structure in my surroundings. I pass many buildings of the same size or larger on my way to work.

***

The stories have already started to build.

Two weeks ago, on the way home in a taxi, the Korean driver asked me where I was from.

I told him, he responded with, “I love America, America number one!”

He then proceeded to belt out a few verses of a song in Korean-English, blurred Ls and Rs, that I couldn’t quite recognize.

“Now you,” he said. “Sing America song.”

He turned the radio down. I politely declined.

He persisted.

“Sing America song. America best,” he said.

So, being the reluctant patriot I am, and because in the context of the scene I couldn’t think of a more fitting song, I went for it.

“I was…Booooorrnn in the U.S.A.!” I gave it to him loud. “I was…Boooorrnn in the U.S.A.!”

He sang along as well, though his words and mine were decidedly different.

***

Koreans are flatterers. They compliment people on their appearance whether you deserve it or not.

They’re quick to throw out a “handsome,” or “movie star.” I’ve even heard Robinson Crusoe and Jesus Christ directed this way.

Every day is unique. I learn something about myself and about their culture on a daily basis.

A friend gave me a Moleskin notebook that I carry with me. In it I make notes such as:

I sit in a park. The sun is out through the smog and I can smell sesame oil cooking in a restaurant down the street. The people here are kind if not overly friendly. There are so many of them in such a small space they do not waste time on strangers.

***

Another interesting aspect of life in Korea is sharing the experience with other foreigners. I have already made friends from England, New Zealand, Australia, and other parts of the States.

The Canadians have been the toughest to become acquainted with. I’ve had more arguments than agreements with the Canucks to this point.

It’s generally agreed upon that they have chips on their shoulders about their neighbors to the south.

Many have been living in America’s shadow for the duration of their lives and are capitalizing on their opportunity to express disfavor with our nation.

Some people here claim they have a “small man’s complex.”

To return their feeble attempts at derision, there’s a line from the Simpsons that my American friends and I fall back on.

In the episode “The Bart Wants What It Wants” Homer and the family are faced with a trip to Toronto.

Homer responds with “Canada? Why should we leave America to visit America Jr.?”

***

As with anything, it’s a mistake to rush to judgments. I purposefully refused to think ahead too much about this experience. That has paid off. I’m constantly surprised by this culture. In the similarities, in the subtle differences, and in how much it’s teaching me about myself.