Haeinsa: Temple of Reflection on a Smooth Sea

Traveling to Haeinsa after two weeks of orientation—and before the kick-off of Camp Fulbright—was exceptional timing. In summation, Haeinsa provided me with the following: access to sought-after knowledge, Buddhism at-large and the role/function of a monk therein; time for personal reflection and self-adjustment; socialization with new individuals in a new, unexplored environment; hiking—an outlet for my physical energy and zeal for the outdoors; and lastly, greater exposure to Korean culture, namely food presentation and etiquette.

To elaborate some, I will outline some of the highlights of my trip. Foremost, getting introduced to monsoon season while trekking up Gaya Mountain to visit the Temple was quite an experience. In a lot of ways, it provided what I thought to be a candid and honest presentation of Korea. Thrust high above sea level and enclosed by bellowing mountains and steamy fog provided an eerie and omniscient backdrop to Haeinsa. Exploring the ins and outs of the many unmarked (well, unmarked to me because my Korean is limited to Hi. How are you? Where are you going?) buildings and exchanging photography tips with some of the more well-equipped and insightful photographers made me feel connected to my environment. I saw the landscape in terms of composition. This is a new lens for me.

Besides traveling through sacred texts and mediation rooms, I also enjoyed the traditional and “very formal” (according to Ji Soo, our RA) Korean dinner (Bulgogi). Sitting among individuals who are beginning to transcend acquaintances and digesting foreign tastes and textures, I developed a sincere appreciation for having this opportunity as an ETA. The room was humming with human liveliness and zest. Also, getting to practice bowing and reciting pre/post dinner blessings in that setting was excellent preparation for many similar upcoming dining experiences.

As for Saturday, I woke up early to travel to the traditional drum ceremony held at Haeinsa. Expecting something trying and possibly dull (envisioning dedicated patience and silence), I was pleasantly surprised by the ceremony. One monk chatted casually with us beforehand and even cracked a joke or two, which set a much different tone immediately. What followed was a rich display of foreign sounds and rhythms. Recording some sounds and working to get precise camera angles (employing my photography tips from the day before, you see!), the temple exploded with energy once the drumming began. Older Korean tourists ran to the “holy” water, gulping it rapidly in route to the mandala where they walked briskly and precisely in a mapped maze—a tradition that asks walkers to forget their worries and let their minds free.

After Haeinsa, I did two of the best things of the entire trip. For starters, I got to hike. I regret not starting earlier though, for we did not get to hike to the top, as evening was approaching too soon and the Park Ranger instructed us otherwise. Nonetheless, a group of about six girls got to trump up the side of Gaya Mountain, stopping to enjoy one of the six bridges we crossed, admire the breathtaking scenery, and once, we even threw off our shoes and waded around in the chilly, rushing water. I got to spend some time conversing one-on-one with new individuals and outlet my increasing energy—a double whammy!

Last on my list for Haeinsa would be my first trip to a traditional Korean spa. What a treat that was! Having hardly any inclinations about what the experience would be other than a quick glance of a poster while driving in, I was overwhelmed with curiosity and liberation once inside. For one, there were so many pools, rooms, temperatures, women (of all ages), showers, scrubbing devices, and saunas to distract my attention. How’s a girl supposed to navigate this? Not to mention, I am in the nude, something I have limited experience with, especially surrounded by loads of fellow females. But what a tremendous way to unwind after a day of hiking—the view was priceless and I, as well as the girls I ventured down there with, got to giggle and relax while the Korean women asked us questions, pointed out differences on our bodies, and just generally acted intrigued by us. The whole experience was something I’ll never forget.

 

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

Preview of Weekend Trip to Haeinsa

Check it out! This weekend all 73 of us will venture into the mountains to visit Haeinsa Temple, National Treasure #52. More to come about this adventure.

contextualizing my experience and other semi-important ramblings

South Korea?

Am I devouring cute little puppies for dinner? Eating rice patties in a sullen alley? Drinking soju and singing karaoke? Seeking refuge from the ubiquitous Communists in the North?

Assumptions are part of this culture. They laugh about them too. Unfortunately, nothing is overly exotic thus far. As of day 7, I have not experienced much outside the walled confines of Jungwon University located in the middle of South Korea in a small, rural town called Goesan. However, the concept of “rural” here is largely dependent upon eye of the beholder. To the Korean eye, “rural” is constituted in relativity to Seoul, so as you can imagine, much of the landscape is considered rural, when in actuality to the average American, it far from that definition. At any rate, the town is an approximately 12-minute walk and a 3,500 won taxi ride. Not too bad.

Now, about the conservative university I am currently studying at. Here are some simple facts. It’s very young, 18 months in fact. Granite, granite, granite—granite everywhere! Digesting the magnitude of this towering structure is challenging. It screams, “I have money” rather blatantly. Further it is situated among rolling mountains and a green, immaculately manicured 9-hole golf course. It also has a kayak pool. It looks better suited for bumber boats, but I wasn’t consulted on design decisions so I have little to say about that. The outdoor pool looks like a mini waterpark with slides and other structures designed to entertain rambunctious children. However, the pool closes at 5 and our afternoon lectures generally last until then, so I haven’t ventured in to it yet. Oh yeah, you have to enter a sauna first, then sport a one-piece complete with a swim cap and goggles. That seems like too much effort for me so I have put that one on hold for the time being.

In addition to its daunting physical presence, this university also has a very strict curfew system for its students (fortunately Fulbright has provided us special access keys so we can operate on our own times)—the building goes on lockdown at 11:00 PM. Yes, that means absolutely no one is permitted to leave or enter after that time. Bummer, right? The Korean students, who are NOT teatotallers, often just sleep outside or stay out until 5 am when the doors unlock. Haha, since we are encouraged to fraternize with them, they have been joining some of the American students on their nightly prowl to one of the two bars in Goesan or a noraebang (karaoke bar/room)—think Lost in Translation—and until yesterday when we got informed not to let them stay out past their curfew, they were having a liberated time with the ETAs, running around until the wee hours of the night. Too bad that was squashed rather quickly. You may wonder how did they know? Well, the school is equipped with CCTV cameras just about everywhere expect for our rooms (which I am not entirely convinced is true). In addition to this, boys and girls are almost entirely separated. They are not permitted to intermingle in the dormitory settings—so much so, that elevators are segregated by sex. This is still taking some time to get used to.

Moving on from my physical location, I’ll elaborate some on how I am spending my time here. Currently we have 3-4 hours of language (depending on the day) class each morning from 8:50-12:50. Our instructors are from the prestigious university, Korea University. (As you may or may not know, the top three Korean universities are called S.K.Y.—Seoul National, Korea, and Yonsei). These schools are openly regarded as the best and it is the goal of every student to be accepted to one of these schools, as going to the best school starting from Elementary school reflects one’s success in life—thus, best school = best life chances. At any rate, there are three levels of classes—beginner, intermediate, and advanced. I am a dead beginner and arguably one of the worst students in my class of 10 students (there are five beginners classes and one for each of the higher levels)—haha, but as with learning anything new and challenging, I am trying to maintain the most positive attitude I can muster—because sometimes it’s either laugh or cry. Laugh or cry when the teacher makes you repeat a letter (yes a letter, not even a word) about 8 times when the other students get it on the first try. Hey, I am trying. I know, much more, than I did before so I couldn’t be happier. Our teachers are very helpful, despite only speaking Korean in the classroom. Our lessons are rote immersion style classes—just repetition, repetition, repetition. It’s working though. I go to sleep with the sounds bouncing around in my head. I suppose that’s what it’s like when we’re babies.

After language instruction in the mornings, we go to lunch and then prepare for an afternoon lecture or presentation. Generally these last for 2-4 hours. The topics range—so far history, some teaching methods/suggestions, and a very interesting lecture from blogger and street photographer Michael Hurt entitled “Visual Landscapes of Seoul.” A former ETA from the mid 1990s, he shared personal antidotes about the culture of Korea depicted through personal work and images from two other street photographers from the 1950s to present time. Fascinatingly enough, he has very striking images of the Red Light District in South Korea. Did you know that 4.3% of South Korea’s GDP is from prostitution? To show how large that figure is, he said the fishing, mining and agriculture industries combined accounted for less than 5% of the nation’s GDP. Shocking, right? Explains why there are so many Korean prostitutes in America as well—more than any other Asian nationality.

Other than that, we have some free time. The weather has been quite pleasant to far so I have enjoyed some hiking, exploring the five-day market downtown (I haven’t figured out the name yet, but I guess it occurs once or twice a month—I bought a dress there…I wanted to haggle, as that’s the custom here for those sorts of purchasing situations, however I felt I had too of limited language capacity to attempt that so I walked away slightly defeated in my purchase—but really happy when I tried it on and it looked surprisingly sharp and cute with a belt for otherwise it is a giant drappy mess—Asian fashion has a lot of loose, fluttery butterfly like articles of clothing—which I suppose works on small, slender frames, not adding too much weight or disfiguration, however, with my curves I need to be careful about this style). I’ve also been playing basketball with some of my fellow ETAs. With a full court on the third floor roof and courts outside near the soccer field, there is lots of space for me to exercise my competitive spirit and get a decent workout on (as this is pertinent to the experience for I need to stay fairly slim to fit into the fashionable clothes).

Other than that…I am elated about the opportunities this experience has presented/will present. For instance, today we met the Public Affairs Officer stationed in Korea from the U.S. Embassy. He shared his experiences as a gay man employed by the State Department, expressing how under the Obama administration his husband is finally recognized (to some degree). His candidness was refreshing and I look forward to speaking to him personally when we visit the Ambassador’s house for a pool party in August, as well as, Thanksgiving dinner. I have had those moments sporadically when I have to pinch myself to remind me that this is real, it’s happening, and I am here.

That’s all for now. I apologize for the length/lack of layout sense. This is my first blogging experience and I am learning as I go. I often lack a strong sense of “follow-though” so we shall see how this goes. Oh yeah, I’m kinda busy, so that contributes to my poor commitment skills. Fingers crossed I’ll stay connected, though.

Miss you all. Any message/thought/update would be greatly appreciated.

By the way, ambiguoussmile is my SKYPE name. Add me, folks.