Seoul Reflections

The second week of June, movers arrived at my Seoul apartment and packed up all my material goods minus my summer travel impedimenta. Now the bulk of my current accumulation of chattel roosts in shipping containers while in transit from Seoul to Okinawa. The most recent tracking message received stated that those containers left Busan last week. Meanwhile, I departed Seoul on June 17 and presently reside with my summer travel impedimenta--first in Hawaii and now in Utah.

After living almost five years in Seoul, I will certainly carry forever onward Seoul's imprint on my own soul. Here now are some bits and pieces included in that imprint.

In all honesty, though, a few facets locked into this Seoul imprint I will not miss, so I shall declare them first and be done with them:

1. Air quality issues. How much fault belongs to China's catastrophic air pollution woes  and the prevailing weather patterns and how much solely to Korea's own issues, I will not debate. Suffice it to say that air quality too often can be problematic. (Check out this website.)
2. Winter. Even if I've lived all my life so far in lands with a winter season, Korea takes first place in the MISERABLE category for its multiple weeks of bone-chilling cold with no reprieve whatsoever. When you watch Mash reruns and those characters bemoan the cold, they speak the truth! Ice resulting from a measly inch or two of snow can last for six weeks.
   
3. Spitting. In Korea people spit their sputum onto the sidewalk and streets regularly. I cringe whenever I hear someone cough or clear his/her (yes, females do this, too, especially ones from older generations) throat because almost inevitably the sound of spittle launching will follow. YUCK!

With the negativity now concluded, let me share a glimpse of the Seoul glow I hold within. I will miss so many things!

• My apartment. I loved my apartment. It was my haven.

• My neighborhood, Huam Dong. It has its own street market proffering all manner of goods from shops, stands, the back of trucks, even curbside: fresh fruits and vegetables, spices and red pepper paste, fish (fresh or dried), baked goods, breakfast or lunch or dinner from pots and on sticks, electronics, clothing, even small pieces of furniture. An array of "mom and pop" restaurants within its turf include fare ranging from Korean barbecue to pizza to take-out Thai (YUM!) and Vietnamese (pho is now my comfort food of choice).

• Taking the subway to church on Sunday.

• Crossing the Han River by subway. Because the church is located on the other side of the river from where I lived, I always crossed the Han River on Sunday commutes. Because I took the Sunday commute pretty much weekly, I eventually achieved successful subway snoozer status (one who can snooze but awaken to disembark at the correct station), yet I could not allow snoozing during the river crossing; the crossing became my touchstone moment or something, and I had to witness it fully.

• Opening a refrigerator at church and being assaulted by the pungent aroma of kimchi. Where  else can that ever happen?!

• Walking to and from work. Unless it was too wet or too cold or I planned a morning run on post before school or I had too much to carry, I enjoyed commuting to and from work by foot. Two to three times a week became the pattern. My last month in my apartment I ended up walking everywhere or else taking a subway or a cab because I sold my car the day after I listed it for sale--in other words, much more quickly than anticipated!

• My students. No where else have I taught students where so many of them have internalized both the desire to learn and the determination to pursue excellence in what they create and produce.

• "Beauty" shops, the ones catering to personal vanity and presenting even more than one has ever imagined needing or using to be more beautiful--skin care, hair, make-up, etc. They are everywhere, even in the underground passageways of the subway. I especially enjoy the freebies tendered with even the smallest purchase. My personal favorites are Skin Food and Face Shop, but there are surely a dozen more franchises from which to choose. And, from what I understand, Korean beauty products are becoming big sellers in the USA.

• Spring. Korea does it with exquisite loveliness.
  

• Autumn. Korea does it with exquisite loveliness.
  

• Ginkgo...especially in autumn. The leaf totally enchants me--a tiny golden fan suspended on a branch or embellishing a car windshield or gilding the sidewalk.

• Robert, my taxi man. In Seoul I actually had Robert's name in my phone contacts, and he had me listed in his! When I called or sent a text, he could always address me by name before I identified myself. After the first time he delivered me to my apartment, he never required directions again to pick me up there. He spoke wonderful English and enjoyed talking culture, politics, religion, whatever. I have kept his number because if I show up in Seoul again to visit, I have a taxi driver at the ready!

• The car wash man at the commissary. On his bike he rides onto post with a bucket, cloths, and brushes. Enlist his service before one enters the commissary, and when one returns to the car with groceries in tow--voila, clean car. By the end of my sojourn in Seoul, he knew me and my car well. The last time he washed my car, he did it on his own volition. He recognized my car in the parking lot and washed it while I was inside the commissary without me even being aware that he was there that day. Because my car had been quite dirty (Seoul has dirty precipitation--air quality issues, remember), I noticed immediately that it was clean. Momentarily confused, I then spotted the car wash man about to leave the parking lot at the far exit. I was able to catch him and offer him payment, but he smiled and shook his head no. At that moment, I didn't realize that it would also be the last time for the car to be washed while I owned it. Still, such a sweet ending.

• My cleaning lady. I have never before had a cleaning lady. Somehow she came with the rent; I never paid her up front. How marvelous to never have to clean a shower comprised of tile and glass and yet have it remain in pristine condition.

• Mr. Joe, the car insurance man. "If you have a situation or an accident, call me first, then the MPs!" I never had to call him for anything more than a dead battery when I returned from summer break, and then he sent a mechanic on a motorcycle right to my car in the underground parking garage of my apartment building.

• My landlord and the security man at my apartment building. Traditionally Korean men have a rather dictatorial reputation. How true that still is, I don't know, but I do know that both of those men took excellent care of me and my needs in that apartment for almost five years. Neither spoke much English at all, I speak very little Korean, and so we communicated with smiles, gestures, and a translating intermediary if more lengthy spoken communication was necessary. I think they were one of God's gifts to me.

Myanmar and Theravada Buddhism

Despite being grievously cumbered with visits to Buddhist temples my first two days in Myanmar--first in Yangon and then in Bagan--I was still moved by the very real devotion of so many people in Myanmar to their Buddhist faith. (Seriously, dear tour designer, for non-devotees, a guided tour of two different Buddhist temples in one day is plenty; four in one day is mind-numbing, and ten in two days--no matter how small a temple might be--is a mini hell whatever someone's religious persuasion might be!) Almost ninety percent of Myanmar's population practices Theravada Buddhism, and that practice informs the way each day unfolds and, as with religion in general, influences architecture and art. Western civilization tends to connote Buddhism with peace and acceptance, but when any religion is used to sanctify social, political and/or economic power wrangling, it is never holy. Sadly, some in Myanmar have done and still do just that, attempting to cloak or justify evil acts with false connections to Buddhism. However, I am not celebrating them. I am celebrating all of those I observed or met or had the chance to share a time and space where our lives overlapped.

Religions through the ages have always had an impact on the arts: what to create and what to treasure. The lay of the land in Myanmar is shaped and designed by Buddhism.

In Yangon, Shwedagon.

In Bagan.

In Mandalay we visited a Buddhist monastery--a Mandalay highlight for me, by the way--and arrived just as the novices and monks were gathering for their noon-day meal. Monks eat only twice a day: very early in the morning and just before noon. They do not partake of any more food after noon. All their food is donated and prepared by others who, as part of their devotion, provide substance, time, and service to the monks. In Myanmar, all male Buddhists are expected to spend a certain period of time as a monk. At age eighteen, a male can choose to become a monk for life. Our guide in Mandalay confessed that when his family sent him to the monastery to serve his time as a monk at the age of eight, he only lasted a week. He was just too hungry! For him, only two meals failed to constitute a suitable living arrangement.

Monks wear wine-colored robes; nuns wear pink and orange. Both monks and nuns shave their heads. Visible everywhere, monks and nuns participate in the daily rituals and routines of everyday life in an integral way. For me it was both beautiful and humbling to watch.

Myanmar on My Mind

During the winter holiday season, I explored Myanmar. “Where is that?” so many people have asked. I reply with another question, “Burma? Do you know where Burma is?” Sometimes that helps and sometimes not, but let's commence with the rather contentious controversy of an official name for this country.

From my online research, I believe this article sums up the matter rather succinctly, and I quote a portion of it here:

The name 'Burma' derives from the ethnic Burman (or Bamar) majority and, following local custom, was adopted by the British colonialists in the 19th century. Yet the more formal indigenous name 'Myanmar' has been used for titles, in literature and on official documents for centuries.  The English language version of the 1947 constitution, prepared the year before the country regained its independence, referred to the 'Union of Burma', while the Burmese language version used the name ‘Myanmar'  

The name Myanmar was accepted by the UN and most other countries. Some governments, however, notably the US and UK, chose not to do so. These countries wanted to show support for Burma's opposition movement, which clung to the old name as a protest against the military regime. The opposition felt that the country's name could only be decided by the people.

The new name was also controversial at another level. 'Myanmar' can be traced back to the pre-colonial period when successive kings ruled the central lowlands of Burma and periodically clashed with the states and societies around them. It implies the continuing political dominance of the major ethnic group living within the geographical boundaries inherited from the British in 1948. This is anathema to many among the country's ethnic minorities. 

To some, the use of either 'Burma' or 'Myanmar' represented a political position.

From the responses of guides and a few others I asked while in-country, Myanmar is preferred because “it is the traditional name for our country,” and Burma is the colonial name established by an outside entity—one militarily, economically, and politically potent at the time. Although the full history and implications of the controversy of Myanmar vs. Burma are more complicated, I shall continue to refer to this nation as Myanmar.

A land of rich diversity--environmentally and ethnically--with a turbulently storied history, Myanmar feels rather magical at this particular moment. Perhaps the tenuous nature of its current time space enhances the aura of hope and possibility floating just above the ash and dust of a land repeatedly plundered by others hungry for its natural resources and/or the trappings of power and luxury. In behalf of Myanmar, I now find myself in a mother-mode of sorts--cheering, worrying, encouraging, reprimanding, and praying. 

People and the lay of the land create the majority of the images and memories I carry with me forever after. At times, food also ranks.  Myanmar achieved all three of these. From Yangon, to  Bagan, to the Ayarwaddy River, to Mandalay, to Ngwe saung, the movie in my mind plays an amazing array of frames.

Yangon

Bagan

Ayarwaddy River

Ngwe Saung

Mandalay