Martian or Rock Star?

He walks down the street and everybody stares. Not the stare they give the homeless guy or the woman dressed soliciting attention; this is a stare that stops people in their path. They look, hold their children’s hands who start to run towards him to get a closer look. Small children hide behind their mothers for safety but curiously peek around the back of her legs to explore while shielded by her body. Teenagers point and giggle in their formal uniforms of grey and white from school even as late as 9:30 at night. One little child walked up and rubbed his hairy arms just to see what an arm “like that” felt like disappointed that it felt like a regular arm. Yes, these are my first days on the streets in downtown Cheonan, South Korea.

When eating lunch in the cafeteria of the school I teach English at, students trip and drop their trays startled by the sight of a foreigner. Groups of youth all over the neighborhood see me walking by and all yell out “Hello!” and laugh hysterically. I wonder if this is what it was like for another Michael with the last name Jackson when at the peek pf his popularity; received a strange mix of celebrity status including: curiosity and circus clown. Personally, I think I resemble the latter the most closely but what do I know, I am the foreigner walking the streets without police protection or escort. It is possible after two days of not shaving, I may have more facial hair than this city of nearly a half million residents. It is possible that my short dark hair may have more natural wave to it than this city of nearly a half million residents. It is probable that I have more hair on my light brown arms than the entire city of nearly a half million residents. It is a fact that I came here to become somewhat anonymous and end up drawing more attention than any single person walking down the street casually and certainly more than I have at any time in my life.

All the kids want to play with and say “Hello” to Michael, the foreigner. In my short time here that has included many miles of walking and roaming the streets, I have seen one other non-Asian in public and have seen another white person through the window across from my efficiency apartment. Two non-Asians among several thousand native Koreans, Japanese and Chinese. Growing up outside NYC where every nation in the world that has access to an airplane has representatives wandering the streets, seeing so many folks of similar hair, eyes, and skin color with fashion that to my untrained eyes lacks much diversity is quite an eye-opener, literally. Due to my lack of distance vision, I have learned how to distinguish people in life through discerning hair, eye and skin color that has no value here. They ALL know who I am. I think I could walk around without clothes on and draw less attention, as long as naked I resemble the residents more closely.

It feels awkward to be stared at so frequently and unabashed. Anyone who knows me is aware I desire attention, but it is only attention on my terms that fills that need for me. I do not accept attention that I did not facilitate very gracefully. Seeing several thousand people a day and predominantly being stared at by most of them has stirred my sense of public comfort. I am aware of what I wear, how I eat, what I purchase at the grocery store, bowing and how I say,” Annyoeng-haseyo” the greeting equivalent of Good morning/afternoon/evening. Most of all, I am extremely mindful of not confirming their assumption that all Americans are rude, disrespectful and arrogant, I am still working on the third one. I eat very slowly and carefully in public with the metal chopsticks that Koreans use. I do not want to use the wrong utensils for the wrong foods. It is expected that one uses the spoon for soups, stews and rice, and chopsticks for everything else. I used my chopsticks to eat rice the first week here and was corrected yesterday with a look of disapproval. I am still learning what, how and when to bow and how low for each person. There are guidelines that are not always real clear. I love bowing. It feels so good to me. I feel such connection and heritage when doing so. I feel respected, acknowledged and honored every time. I believe i will have a hard time returning to a world without bowing when and if I choose to do so. I dress more conservative than I typically do and maybe even a little more like an adult than I have in recent years. I notice if I am buying only western style food at the grocery store and quickly grab something native that I have no idea what it is since I cannot read the labels but know I will like it anyway. Although I doubt I will replace cereal as my standard breakfast food before work in the morning. Seeing Post brand cereals in Korean with flavors I never saw before I also find amusing.

Side note: I can no longer imagine a world that does not include Kinchi on a daily basis after only ten days.

Being treated as a rock star where everybody wants you to walk through the door first because “he” is here among us I hope will wear off soon. Again, I came partially to shed some old patterns of attention-seeking and stroking of the ego. Ironic no? Fortunately, clerks in the both the local grocery stores I shop at treat me fairly rudely since I can’t read the writing on the scales to print out labels in advance of purchasing produce, it is good to be reminded that I am not larger than life or even equal to them.

It is funny how the Universe works; anonymity and humility were two of my primary motivations for living in a land where my methods of navigating through life would be ineffective and altered. Here I am the most noticed person everywhere I go- good, bad or indifferent- part Martian, part Rock Star.