Beautiful

After a hectic week, things are slowing down and the semester will be over by the end of this week. Friday afternoon I was chatting with some students and explaining American perceptions of Koreans and Asians in general.

For example, I explained how the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul put South Korea on the map for many people. I was a teenager at the time and, probably like many Americans, I had never heard of South Korea. I also explained how many Americans knew nothing of North Korea until President Bush referred to it directly in his infamous "axis of evil" remark in a 2002 speech.

Although these were fighting words and, in my opinion, not well thought out, it's probably a good thing that a few more people throughout America and the world are a little more aware of North Korea's existence and, hopefully, its humanitarian abuses. Personally, this concerns me more than the nuclear threat (which I don't deny, but which I think is wildly overplayed). The thought that I am living and working less than an hour's drive from the world's worst authoritarian regime is very unsettling. I sometimes look at the gorgeous mountains that surround Seoul and I think of North Korean refugees braving the elements to make it to the South Korean or Chinese borders.

I've read that it's not wise for expatriates to discuss political issues with the locals, and I try to follow that rule. I didn't share with the students what I just wrote in the previous paragraph. But it does amaze me how many South Koreans seem indifferent to what is happening in the north, while giving credence to the concept of all Koreans on the peninsula as one race. Some of my students have confirmed this.

I also discussed foreign languages with the students and explained how foreign languages are slowly gaining in popularity in America due to globalization, immigration and travel. However, languages with different character systems (like Korean, Arabic or Chinese) are often imposing. These languages look more art to a native English speaker than actual text. This was a totally new concept for my Korean students. One of them said to me, in so many words: "So to an American, reading Korean is like reading code." That's a great description.

I also discussed how Americans tend to lump most Asians in the same category. This is less common in coastal cities with larger Asian populations, like New York and San Francisco, where people have more contact with Asians. However.
One of my students traveled once to New York and met a gentleman who asked her if she was Japanese or Chinese. She was hurt that not only did he not recognize that she was Korean, but the possibility of Korea hadn't entered his mind. (Although, to be fair, this particular student actually could pass for Japanese.) When many Americans (myself included) think Asian, the first country that comes to mind is China, with Japan a close second.

Yesterday I sang for four separate services in different part of Youngnak Church. Youngnak Church almost functions as a compact office complex, with numerous services taking place simultaneously in different rooms and buildings, so I sang in three different locations. Two of those services were with Korean youth congregations. The Korean song I sang came out better than I thought it would. Afterward, giggly Korean teenagers were approaching me to shake my hand and try to chat in broken English.

The English service, in the last location, was a humbling experience. My guitar is somewhat and the built-in amp is broken. Because of this, I usually put a pickup in the sound hole when I'm singing in a church or building where sound amplification is needed. However, because of a lack of equipment this particular Sunday, there was no place to plug in my pickup--which meant I had to play someone else's guitar.

I've read that an unfortunate side effect of culture shock is the occasional outburst of anger over trivial matters. I generally do not like playing a guitar other than my own. J's guitar, which I ended up having to use, was a round back model. Round backs have their loyalists, but I am not one of them. For me, playing a round back is like being punished for my sins. Additionally, J's English is not that great, so we had some mixed signals as far as how to plug in my guitar and, eventually, using his. The short story of all of this is that by the start of service time, I was very angry. I was smiling and laughing, but I was not happy. I struggled throughout the service to get myself in the right frame of mind. When it came time for me to sing following Pastor Bill's sermon, the microphone stand I was supposed to use decided it didn't want to stay straight anymore. So for 60 eternal seconds Pastor Bill and I fumbled with it and eventually ditched it for another one. When I sang the song, Sam Lane's "Beautiful," I sang it with as much heart as I could, but I did not like the sound of the guitar at all. The strings didn't ring the way I expect strings to. They sounded muted and I thought I was going to pop one any moment. I didn't like the way the guitar felt. I don't like round backs. I will never like round backs. The day I begin to like round backs is the day that the world is coming to an end, because it will truly be a sign and wonder. It was a moderately uncomfortable experience, and the song came out differently than I had intended it to.

The humbling experience came after the service when people, most of whom had never before heard me sing, approached me to tell me how much they loved the song. Pastor Bill told me he was in tears. Apparently the only one who noticed the wrong guitar tone was me. I thanked J. for letting me use his guitar and asked him how it sounded from the congregation. His response: "It sounded beautiful, and I thank God because of the beautiful Jesus in you."