Deep Lessons Learned In Korea

This isn’t your average Wordful post.

In fact, I’m writing this from a hotel room in Seoul, South Korea, which is quite a change in pace from the warm family life I lead in Hawai‘i.

The reason I’m here now is to take a few days to myself to discover the country of my mother and the ancestors from her side of the family.

Unfortunately, though, the odds of success are against me: I don’t speak Korean and my relatives are–how shall I say–very distant. I’ve never met them or spoken to them until about 3 months ago to make arrangements for this visit.

In fact, my uncle just informed me he can’t make it to see me in Seoul, so I will just be meeting a couple of cousins.

Failing to Plan

Instead of playing tourist, I’ve been playing stranger.

I never took the time before I left to research places to go or stay. Worse yet, I didn’t bring the Lonely Planet Korea guide book my wife gave me for Christmas, bringing instead Chris Anderson’s Free because it wasn’t as heavy to carry (there’s some offbeat irony in that).

I spent the day yesterday wandering around the streets of the Yeoungdeungpo-dong business district, which is home to the Marriott I at random chose to stay at. Even they guy at the bank who exchanged my dollars for won asked me what I was doing in a part of town no Westerners come to.

The banker was right: English is very scarce here and the ratio of Westerners to Koreans is about 500,000 to 1. I’ve been eating poorly, too. Most of the restaurants serve meat (which I don’t eat) and even if they served something else, there’s a certain discomfort from walking into a restaurant alone and ordering from a menu written entirely in hangul.

I took the banker’s friendly advice and took a cab to Hongwi University district last night. Sure, it was more young and lively, but crowded and lonely nevertheless. I reluctantly settled for a $5 plate of spaghetti with meat sauce before lugging back two bottles of soju on the subway back to my room.

Making Bad Assumptions

Another tactical error I made was that of making assumptions. In fact, many errors I’ve made throughout life have been based on poor assumptions. The problem is that bad assumptions often get confused with good intentions.

This time I assumed my relatives would drop what they’re doing to meet the first-born son of my Ko family generation. Give me a break. Who am I to show up after 34 years and demand harmony from our disconnected lives?

I do not entirely understand the story of my mother’s abrupt departure from Korea. There are layers of mystery I will never uncover, but will perhaps have to inevitably accept as precursor to my status in the family.

The Only Redemption Necessary

It’s 10:13 am. I’m looking out the window and the city is waking up.

I think about my Korean grandfather, long deceased, a great man by all accounts. He was a highly respected poet, calligrapher and artist.

I suppose it doesn’t really matter that I don’t speak Korean, that I don’t even feel Korean, or that I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing here in Seoul.

What matters is that I carry his legacy.

Amidst the silence, I feel his presence as I write. He is telling me to forget about my travel frustrations and picky eating, and instead focus on the predilection of writing he and I both share.

Write to live, he tells me. Write from deep within your heart and don’t ever stop. I am deeply comforted by this.