Cultural Nuances and Ramblin'

June 14, 2010—Day 10

Sitting under the veranda in front of my campus overlooking the immaculate golf course and the misty mountains descending into the skyline, I am discussing the headaches of this program with Clint, a developing friend and eager conversationalist (which, of course, for those who know me is quite essential to my survival). There is a breeze, which balances the sticky humidity and we are questioning how as individualists we have to reevaluate our understandings of social order in order to adapt to Korean group (or collectivist) culture.

Well, let me back up. Before our two hour afternoon lesson on games and projects in the classroom, we had a 45 minutes lecture on our poor ability to present ourselves effectively as a group—and further how important it is to become a vital part of the group in Korea and how we will less be remembered as individuals—but rather judged as a whole entity. Studying intercultural communication with an Asian professor has richly shaped my understanding of collectivism in East Asian culture, perhaps more so than some of my colleagues here. I am learning, though, what appears generally “commonsense” or of common knowledge is not necessarily the case—i.e. the juxtaposition of individualism and collectivism, primarily focusing on how these dueling paradigms affect one’s daily life in that respective culture.

Although we will focus more intensely on cultural issues when our orientation nears our placement time (given the fact that we will be placed in homestays), it seems as though this topic would be essential to survival here; thus, a lecture early on—not after the fact—seems entirely more relevant. At any rate, apparently we should be more aware of the importance of first impressions of the group. Group, group, group. I am finally experiencing what I spent four years studying—the subjection of the self for the wealth of the group. Coming from a country where we value independence and emphasis personal development, this process is not a smooth one. Some of the fellow ETAs (English Teaching Assistants) were slightly outraged—large in part because it’s confusing—for instance, when students socialize out at a bar, it is common for one to pay for all, knowing that someone else in the group will cover the tab at another time, rather than figuring out the bill, splitting it a bajillion ways, and collecting wadded money from a bunch of a drunk hooligans—this American way of covering tabs would be embarrassing and result in a loss of face. This is just one example, but it also happened to be the one discussed today—other than that our lecture was rather confusing and it was hard to connect the dots about how our actions reflected poorly as a group. Anyways, that’s my ramble and that’s how the headache formed—well, that and the fact, I spilled coffee on myself I think a grand total of 8 times in a 45 minute interval. This of course was while I stared helplessly and nodded apologetically to my exceptionally dressed and rather handsome Korean teacher (who has developed a humorous way of teasing my poor pronunciation abilities—like making “Jillian’s Row” when he makes us individually pronounce words that have words very similar with only very subtle differences—of course, I don’t even get the word or words close to the one he is attempting to teach us correct).

Enough about that nonsense. Even typing that brings out bittersweet feelings—I am beginning to understand that one’s relationship to language is quite tumultuous. Some days I am overwhelmed with an enormous sense of accomplishment, a feeling that comes from having the ability to say the most basic phrases—thank you, hello, goodbye, etc.—because having these phrases has enriched my experience. I can thank the sweet woman who hands me soup each day at the end of the cafeteria line. I can also thank the woman at the convenience store who chuckles at me each day as I practice out what I’ve learned on her (She thinks I am “fun.”). In contrast, though, frustration amounts easily from the pace and structure of the class environment. New vocabulary is growing substantially, concepts are introduced quickly and with little time for questions, and after 3.5 hours my eyes are too thirsty to stare at the board. I am sure some of you can sympathize with this experience, but I hope you’ll repeat what I’m thinking—that it will be absolutely worth it.

To switch gears a bit, I thought I’d introduce something not related to Korean culture. As a disclaimer, I have not studied these dynamics, but as a communication major and one who is interested in the study of human relation, I am curious about the progression and maintenance of virtual face-to-face communication, or in laymen’s terms, SKYPE. To contextualize my experience with Skype, I am currently utilizing it to maintain a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend, Peter. With a fourteen-hour time difference and minimal experience respectively, it has taken some time for us to adjust to this mode of communication. The progression has fascinated me. Since two of the closest friends I have made here ironically are in very similar LDRs (Long Distance Relationships), we have swapped skyping tips and secrets. We’ve also disclosed about our levels of intimacy and the difficulties we experience in trying to foster and again, maintain (I hate to repeatedly use this word, but I can’t seem to find one that fits appropriately at this time) this essential part of our budding relationships. I use the term “budding” because each of us were in the comfortable “getting to know each other” stages of our relationships (each of us has been dating for 5-6 months each) when we departed for this cultural exchange.

All in all, logistics aside (sorry for rambling and being overly detailed—it’s a habit I am ridiculously aware of but often do little to control it), Skype, I believe, has transformed the concept of long-distance dating. Superficially, this seems like commonsense, I mean sure, seeing one obviously softens the distance; however, I’d argue this transgression is much more complex. For instance, the amount of self-disclosure is higher I believe than if I only had access to a cell phone. Also, keep in mind Skype is FREE. So besides complications due to the time difference, Skype permits a richer, unrestrained communication channel. I believe some of the challenges one faces (i.e. the cliché: out of sight, out of mind) are less complex when he or she can communicate face-to-face. Non-verbal communication can be achieved, which complicates discussion—this is something absent from all other modes of long distance correspondence (phone, letters, emails, and instant messaging). Having access to the emotional component of another person through face to face communication provides a much more substantial element to the relationship that (I hope) helps mend the gaping nature of physicality.
Anyways—that’s my rant/blurb about that. I’d be curious what others have to say about this phenomenon. And I’ll certainly be contributing to it further, as it appears that I’ve lost some steam.

By the way, Asians love westerners. Cute story to end this entry with—outside our building, waiting for next lecture, 45 middle school girls walk by. Almost all say “hi!”—but one group starts yelping, exclaiming…”Beautiful, beautiful! Ohh, ohh (after they say my eyes), BLUE, blue! Oh mY Gosh.! We love you! We love you!”

Of course, I had my princess strut on after that encounter.

I’ll return after this weekend. I leave for the temple in one hour. I’m working on getting albums together, so be patient and I’ll share photos in no time. Please share your love.

Jillian