Here is just a little sampling of the random bits of Korean culture – some of which surprised me initially, and some of which continues to amuse/delight/frustrate the hell out of me.
Old men at the park: I am convinced this is a tradition that transcends borders. Where there are public spaces, there will be old, retired men who congregate, and Yongdusan Park is no exception. Calling it a park might be a bit misleading. It’s a concrete square with strategically planted trees. The men industriously find the shadiest shops and kick off their sandals, pondering their gnarled toes. They light their pipes and skinny cigarettes, and spend the afternoon smoking and playing Othello and Chinese chess.
Silence: Koreans have an interesting set of rules concerning when to be quiet. I’ve been shushed on the subway. I’ve been shushed on the bus. I’ve even been shushed in a taxi. The amount of noise one is allowed to make seems to correlate to how old and how Korean one is, with the greatest exceptions given to the very old, the very young and the very Korean. Since I am none of these things, I’m supposed to be quiet.
Health: Busan is a dirty city (it still has an open sewage system) full of citizens obsessed with staying healthy. Staying healthy mostly involves taking lots of medicine/supplements of both Eastern and Western persuasion and eating “cancer-preventing” kimchi. If a food is touted as being good for you, Koreans will eat it. Exercise doesn’t really seem to factor into the mass consciousness. About 95 percent of the people at the gym and on the hiking trails are more than 50 years old. Staying healthy also means avoiding air pollution – no, not the kind you find in a big, smog-filled city. That’s perfectly fine. What will surely kill us all is the foreigner filing her nails on the subway. Yup, that fine white power (my organic, clean nail being ground down) will instantly corrode Korean lungs. I should learn how to say, “You’re ridiculous,” in Korean.
The gym: Like I’ve said, most of the people at the gym are retirees. And most of these retirees are women, many of who dress up like Tinkerbelle or something out of Arabian Nights for daily jazzercise classes. It’s a hoot to watch. While initially weary of me, these lovely women have now adopted me. They do funny maternal things, like pat my bum and tummy, and every once in a while, one or more will pull me off the treadmill to feed me snacks.
Pushy: It makes sense to let people out – out of the elevator, out of the subway car, out of the taxi – before you try to get in. I’m not sure how or why this point of logic is lost on the Korean population. I actually had a lady try to get into a bathroom stall with me. She wouldn’t let me pass. There wasn’t room enough in the tiny box for the both of us. I had to fix her with my “you’re crazy” stare and shoo her out, so I could exit. I cannot even being to ponder what was going through her mind.
100 days: Woe to the man who forgets his 100-day anniversary, the first major marker in a Korean couple’s relationship. 100 is a big number in Confucian society, and Koreans duly celebrate a baby’s first 100 days or a business’ first 100 days. Korean cell phones even have 100-day counters to help everyone keep track of the special day. Oh, and it doesn’t end at day 100. There’s day 200 to celebrate, day 300 to commemorate, and on and on …
Teeth: Most Koreans don’t floss, but they brush their teeth – a lot. Three times a day is the minimum for this toothbrush-toting populous. My Korean teacher says she used to brush nine times a day until she started suffering from damaged gums, and her dentist told her to back off. Koreans call it “the rule of three.” Brush three times a day within three minutes of finishing a meal.
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