In the Beginning

If there's one static observation you can make about modern life in Korea, it is: life is changing.  Western influence, like the cloak of a slow sunset, seems to creep and creep over the culture until it's all but ubiquitous.

In 2000, I first craved 'real' coffee.  Then there were espresso-ready cafes on every corner.  When I returned in 2003, I would have killed for a place with buffalo wings and a football game.  Shortly thereafter, Eastern Seoul blossomed into a swarm of sports bars, foreign restaurants, and micro-breweries.

Now, mind you, this is not an apology of Amero-centric ideals or food, it's just my entitled need for variety and my expectation that huge metropolises supply that variety I need.  Man cannot live on kim-chi alone (though many certainly try).

South Korea indeed does have a vibrant culture and a fascinating history.  Their escapist drinking culture also has its benefits but let's be honest: it needed a kick in the pants.  Chauvinism and racism and xenophobia were so common when I arrived that I was shocked on a daily basis that a) all of my students' mothers were housewives, b) all dark-skinned people were labeled 'ugly' and c) a few close friends were forbidden from marrying their Korean girlfriends only because they were foreigners.

But, as I said in the beginning, the times they are a-changing.  It seems that just when you want to put Korean music in a tidy 'K pop' box, along comes Psy. You'll cringe when an old lady takes up the entire sidewalk with a mat of drying chili peppers, but behind her is a store carrying Korean-made, Korean-owned cell phones that are the envy of the world.