Crossing the Lines

Crossing The Lines

She is standing at the curb shifting her weight back and forth. She has her light blue Kumon bag full of books from the hakwon she just left at 11:00p.m. tightly clutched to her chest covering her white uniform top that is neatly tucked into her grayish black uniform skirt. Her cell phone is somehow squeezed between her fingers ready for whatever calls or text may come. Her eyes are darting back and forth looking up and down the empty street across from the Nunghyup Bank. Her agitation increases with every passing second. The urges are beginning to overpower her, but they are wrong. She has been taught better. The training from her mother and grandmother for the past sixteen years will not be thrown away in a fleeting moment like this. She can’t do it, not now, not tonight. Her mother has already tucked her little brothers and sister into bed and is preparing rice for tomorrow morning. Her father, who just showered after another twelve-hour day on the road selling fruits across town, is trying to relax for a few minutes before crashing for the night without dinner again. They have worked hard to get her in to this hakwon, the best science, math and English academy in Cheonan. She cannot disrespect them like this; it would crush them if they ever found out.

Besides, how will she be able to go to Church on Sunday after such disregard for Korean tradition and values? NO! She will not do it! She lowers her head in shame at the very thought of even attempting to be so reckless.

And then as if she just figured out her clothes were on fire she raisers her head and starts running across the street. I can see her sheer delight at this moment of freedom at being like a real woman who is strong and able. Her eyes are wide-open and bright, cheeks flushed with vibrancy and arms lifted with each stride. She is halfway there ands realizes what she has done, almost comes to a complete stop, begins to lower her head again with a natural twitch but realizes she has come too far, she cannot go back now. She panics and hurriedly looks left and right, then forward and again darts across the street, exhilaration pours out of her like she is an American girl who is out drunk with her friends on a Friday night accepting free drinks from all the boys trying to attract her fancy knowing they will just flirt, tease and go home laughing together at their conquests. She reaches the other side of the road and freezes cold in her tracks. The momentary flash of freedom evaporates and becomes drenched in guilt, shame and humiliation. She wants to hold back the tears but is not able. She drops her cell phone for the first time and bends over to pick it up forgetting she is wearing a skirt and is supposed to lower herself properly like nice girls do. Her book bag slides out from her grasp and the books fall all over the black sidewalk, she is aware she will be noticed now for certain. Someone will tell her mother. There is no way she can now just walk in the door like nothing has happened. They will know even before she runs the final three blocks to their seventieth floor apartment in Highvill 2. She trembles as she gathers her things off the ground and stuffs her cell phone into the bag and takes off running even faster than she crossed the street towards home with tears streaming down her now pale cheeks. How could she be so careless and ungrateful to her family and bring such shame upon them? They did not raise her to be the kind of girl who crosses the street while the light is still red! Nice girls follow the rules even if there are no cars on the road at 11:20 at night. They obey and follow traditions no matter what. Crossing the street while the light was still red; who did she think she was and did she forget where she is and what country she lives in?

Me, I am shocked. I have lived here for ten months and waited patiently to see if during my thirteen months stay I would see one, just one young woman or girl cross on the red. Their moms do it, all teen boys do it and certainly all men do it without even thinking, but young women are trained well here. By well, I mean effectively.

It has been three weeks since I saw that girl cross the street on a red light. Every night when I am walking after dinner I think about her and how hard being obedient must be to those who need to dance and stretch their own limits. What pressure these young girls carry with them day and night to conform to traditions that are so old that there are nobody left to explain why they exist or where they came from. The answer is simple- “It is what we do”.

Michael = Dog?

Michael, Dog?

Anna is one of my favorite students. She is in second grade and just adorable and beats up most of the boys in our class as a bonus. She has black hair like everyone else here, brown eyes like everyone else here but hers are deeper, darker and rounder than most. Her full cheeks with that soft, silky Korean skin is just unavoidable for a quick, gentle caress every time I see her when she is done walking with me with her little hand inside mine. Anna is very affectionate and loves to be loved. Fortunately, I love loving her, so we get along well.

Today while waiting for her classmates to get to class, she was holding my hand, well actually my wrist and looking up at me with those wondrous eyes and dimpled smile. I was lost in her world when I noticed there was someone petting me, yes petting my forearm and I came back to earth and my classroom. It was Anna stroking and petting the hair on my arms. She again looked back up at me this time with wonder in her eyes and said in her best English, “Michael, dog?” and she pointed to my arm hair and then to my chest. Translation for the non-EFL teachers of the world: “Michael you have hair on your arms, are you a dog?”

I laughed half-heartedly and smiled at my precious little angel who somehow made calling me a dog sound sweet. Second graders can get away with stuff like that but adults get the Jersey/NYC stare when they venture into making comments of that sort.

I still get startled at the fact that most Koreans, both children and adults have never touched a human being with body hair or facial hair. It startles me. I grew up in an Italian family and amongst Italians, chest hair and facial hair are signs of virility. In fact, you are not really considered a man until you have chest hair. I faired well in that department. The other symbol of Italian manhood is not as easy to see, but we will leave that one alone for now. The idea that men can be men and not have hair on their chests, face and arms is beyond my mental capacity to understand. When I am lazy and do not shave, the next day almost every young one will come and rub my stubble. It occurs to me that they may have never felt a man’s facial hair as stiff as mine, another fact that baffles me and my social programming.

While on a roll about my social programming, bodies and cultural differences, I might as well dive into the women. Wait, that did not come out right. What I meant to say was I would like to explore the different bodies of Korean and Western women. OK, that didn’t work either but I think you get the point! I was here almost a month before I realized that the majority of females in Korea are not teenagers! Korean women have very slight frames and bones. It is of the highest importance for a woman in Korea to be skinny. I mean skinny, not thin or athletic. Typically, their bodies remind me of the standard American eighth grade girl in girth, bone structure, weight and size of butt and breasts. Even when pregnant, Korean women are less voluptuous then the American college girl on a diet. And I am speaking of American White girls, not Blacks or Latinas. Their butts are smaller then most pre-pubescent American girls, often with even skinnier legs. If thin is in, then Korean women are it but if curves are what shake your nerves, head east in a hurry! Again, I grew up around Italian women and the physical features that define her as a woman are her curves coming and going.

It has taken me a while to adjust my personal definitions of what is considered attractive, sexy and mature here in Korea. I am not sure I would ever adapt completely from the social and familial programming that is seated deep in this curious mind. But I am curious about what the skin feels like, I cannot lie. Koreans have the smoothest, silkiest skin on this planet. It almost doesn’t feel real. I have a friend in the states who is half Korean and I call her Silky Pants (she calls me Jerk Face for the record) and she warned about how the whole country has skin like hers. I did not believe her, I am a believer now. At times, I reflect on wanting to have a one-night stand or something similar just to touch, caress and lay next to such soft smooth skin. My Inner-Slut has a field day with these kinds of thoughts. But generally, return to my prudish ways and go about my business while trying not to gawk at an occasional woman that I cannot tell if she is twelve or twenty-eight- their bodies, faces, skin and clothes are almost identical. I blush when I realize they are a child and lower my head in shame.

The lessons and education continue for me here in Korea. I am starting to pay attention again to my surroundings knowing that my time here is limited. So the young ones will have to find another man to pet and call dog, and I will have to hold the hands of somebody else’s children with skin more course and a lot less bowing. In the mean time, Michael Dog will try to not smirk at the idea of being a man without chest and facial hairs and being a woman without curves. The programming is deep, like the center of an old Oak Tree. And like an Oak Tree, they don’t die easily.

Like a Korean Virgin

Like a Korean Virgin

I am sitting at my MacBook listening to the Buddhist Television Network in the background with volume at #1 about to dive into an area that baffles. Being baffled is not a new or unexpected state for me, just one that well, baffles me.

As I have begun to form friendships and relationships here in Korea, an added benefit is direct sources of information that I would not be able to access otherwise. This reflection comes from one of those opportunities. My ‘informant’, who will remain nameless for obvious reasons, has no reason to lie or distort the truth. She is trying to help me understand her culture as best she can. I am grateful for her trust, respect and willingness to aid me in my continual process of learning. These days, the ‘textbook’ I am studying is about male-female relationships, sex, gender roles, norms and expectations. I say ‘these days’ to make myself feel like it will someday be something different.

Today I had the pleasure of penetrating the topic of virginity and sexual activity in Korea. I was flat out bowled over by what seemed obvious to my informant but oblivious to me. I appreciate her patience in this department since it took several restating of questions and answers to make certain I heard, understood and swallowed the information correctly. I also need to add that any conversation that includes sex, virginity and prostitution as its main focal points will both maintain and distract me continuously.

“So, I have been thinking about what you said yesterday about the whole women leaving the door open or not be allowed in a man’s room or apartment thing. It really has caught my attention since it is so far removed from American culture and norms. My question is; if men and women are not allowed to be in a room together alone before marriage then do they not have sex?”

“No, they don’t.”

“They’re virgins till marriage?”

“Yes. Most Koreans do not have sex before marriage.”

“Both men and women?”

“Yes. But more women are virgins than men.”

“How is that possible? Don’t the men have sex with women to not be virgins?”

“You know how in Korea all men have to serve in the military?” I nod my head. “Their senior and junior officers take them to get sex for pay. It is a regular part of what happens when boys go to the military. Many say they have not done it but we all know they have.”

“So prostitution is how most boys lose the virginity?”

“Yes. It is very normal in Korea. Most girls do not have sex before marriage. If they get married and the girl has already had sex with a man, they will get separated immediately.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Most men will not marry a women who is not a virgin.”

“Really?” For a guy who talks as much as I do, my vocabulary as an English teacher was becoming very limited to just one word; Really? “It is like Muslim culture?”

“Michael, it is Korean culture.” I am beginning to find out that the answer to anything that Koreans feel insecure or embarrassed about is; “It is Korean culture”.

I was about to say ‘Really?’ one more time but thought about it and tried some new words. “So you are telling me that women that are between 25-35 years old and not married are virgins?”

“Yes. It is very normal in Korea.”

“And boys that do not have sex with a prostitute in the military are also virgins till marriage?”

“Yes but many of them lie about it.”

“What percentage of high school students has sex before college?”

“High school students having sex?” She is now the one who is sounding like I was speaking a foreign language(OK, so I am, but you know what I mean!) . It was like she did not understand the question or it was a quantum physics equation.

“Yes. In America, it is very common for high school students to have sex before they graduate high school. In fact, most of them have more sexual partners in high school than I have had in my whole life.”

“Really?” See what a good English teacher I am? In a matter of minutes I have Koreans mimicking my phrases like natives.

“Yes. It is one of the reasons me and some of my friends that work with youth for a living do not want to work in high schools any more. The girls are too aggressive and we get accused of things that didn’t even happen.”

“Do you lose your jobs if that happens? If a teacher or counselor has sex with a high school girl, who gets fired?”

“The man! He loses his job, never can work with youth again and usually goes to jail for many years, sometimes even twenty-five years.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In 1997 I was accused of trying to have sex with a high school girl that was in a program I used to coordinate and I almost was arrested and prosecuted and I never even touched her beyond the way I would touch any boy or girl.”

“Really? So you can’t be a counselor any more in America?”

“I can. There was a lot of support for me and things were sort-of resolved without any legal or professional consequences but I resigned from my job because all the girls thought I was some kind of a sexual molester and I knew I could not do my job effectively any more. It was more about rumors and gossip than legal or professional. Girls were afraid to be alone with me after that.”

“Did you ever talk with her about it?”

“Yes. She said she did it because she didn’t want to be on the camping trip any more and thought by accusing me of trying to have sex with her, we would go home. Unfortunately for her, that did not happen and I almost lost my freedom and went to jail. I asked her about three years later when hired by the University of Cincinnati to conduct research on the effectiveness of the program. She said she didn’t even remember the situation. It meant that little to her.”

“You are lucky michael.”

“It didn’t feel that way at the time though. So this doesn't happen here in Korea?”

“No.”

“Out of 100 kids in high school, how many have had sex?”

“They don’t.”

“Less than ten percent”

“Yes, maybe.”

“And of adult women, how many do you think are still virgins before marriage? More then fifty percent?”

“Yes.”

“More than seventy percent?”

“I do not know exactly but more are virgins than not.”

“So a couple together for several years not married would never have been alone with a door closed or had sex?”

“Yes it is very normal in Korea.”

“Is this true for Japan and China too?” I asked this as a way to validate her statements and just in case what I had heard was completely untrue.

“No, just Korea.” She laughs for the first time. I am not sure if it was because she thought it was funny or she felt uncomfortable.

“I didn’t think so but figured I would ask.”

At this point, we both had to go. I was experiencing many different emotions including confusion, bewilderment, surprise, disappointment, erotic thoughts about having sex with a gorgeous thirty year old Korean virgin and a pinch of anger. I was bothered by all this- what it says about Korean culture, American culture, men, women, social norms and programming, and just plain old judgmental thoughts in my head.

It is now past midnight and this has taken up a large chunk of my mental process the rest of the day today. I was looking forward for the opportunity to write about this to get it out and have a chance to process it. I do not think it has achieved what I had hoped for. I still feel confused, disturbed and turned on by the fantasies in my head of these hot, adult Korean women in high heels, very short skirts that are virgins, real virgins. It is not necessarily a healthy set of emotions but the ones that I am experiencing at the moment. Tomorrow that may change, maybe not.

I can’t help but wonder who is the oppressed culture; Korean or American? At first glance through American lens, it appears that the Koreans, especially women are the oppressed people in these cultural, sexual norms. But I am flinching to say that I am sold on that to be true. The idea of not having any sexual pressure or expectations seems somehow very liberating and freeing for both men and women. If you already know you are not going to have sex with someone before marriage, it really clears so many things up right then and there. What freedom we would experience to be able to love and learn about each other with sex not even a concern now or the immediate future. Not even a discussion topic, nothing, nada, zilch. A complete non-factor in a relationship. Friendship and companion really are why you are together, not just what we say to cover up what we may be truly experiencing inside but playing the waiting game to appear evolved.

Who are the oppressed and who are the free? The virgins or the double-digit sex partners?

Either way, my Korean education continues. As a side note, I am starting to learn some basic Hangeul and it feels good!

Not with the Door Open Young Man

I was having a conversation with a female Korean friend over lunch the yesterday. We shared some brown rice that I over steamed, Kuk (light soup) and several Panchan (side dishes). I thought this an excellent opportunity to dig into some social questions I had in my ‘whenever I get a chance’ section of the brain waiting for a willing informant on Korean culture. I was ready to seize the moment like the shark I can be at times.

But first we had some business to discuss. I was meeting a mutual person few know for language exchange later on that evening and needed to work out the details since she does translating via phone for us sometimes. Like most folks learning a foreign language, my exchange partner does better in person with understanding me where she can utilize facial expressions, energy, hand signals and lip reading to aid her comprehension of words and phrases. My friend asked, “Where do you want to meet her tonight, that same coffee shop you went to before you went to Malaysia again? You both liked it there.” We did, but caffeine at night is not something that is supportive of positive circadian rhythms for folks like me. So, with ignorance and naiveté as my guides I asked what I thought to be a reasonable question, “What about my apartment? I do not have a good table for us to work on but the floor would be fine.”

“No michael, she cannot do that.”

Wanting more information and an explanation, Curious George became my next guide into ignorance, “Why not?” Simple, direct and to the point.

“Michael, in Korean culture, a woman cannot be in a man’s apartment or room unless they are married or there is another woman present.”

Stunned and a little embarrassed, I proceeded with clarification to make certain I didn’t get things lost in translation, “You mean that you or her can never come to my place for dinner, to watch TV or drink tea without the other one present?” I was hopeful there was a communication problem.

“No. The only way is if we leave the door completely open so that your neighbors can see in.”

“You are kidding right?” Still hopeful but starting to fade.

“No, I am not kidding Michael! Korean women cannot go to a man’s room or he cannot come into ours until we are married.”

“So your boyfriend has never been to your room?” Reaching now, knowing they have been best friends for seven years and a couple for the last year.

“No.” I gulp and try not to let the Kimchi in my mouth choke me. I succeeded at that endeavor but am struggling to swallow with the deeper one.

“Really?” I had nothing else.

“Michael. We can’t be seen with a man on the floor of his room or on the couch without another woman present unless we leave the door open. People will think something is happening. And it is also for the girl’s safety too. Bad things happen to girls when they are left alone with guys with the door shut.” She hesitates reflectively, “Do women do this in America?”

I am able to answer without laughing at her, Koreans or American values and boundaries or the lack of them. I silently reflect on how many different women’s couches and assorted other sleeping arrangements I have been offered and accepted through The CouchSurfing Project in the last year. “Yes, all the time. It is very common now for men and women to even share apartments together as friends. We hang out together at each other’s places all the time and it is not a big thing for a guy or girl to just crash at the friend’s home if they are too tired to go home or something. It is very normal in America. I know that some married women will not be alone with a man that is not their husband down South but I think that is even becoming rare these days.”

“Really?” Her face looked like she just saw a ghost, maybe two.

“Is this about rumors and gossip?”

“Yes, a lot if it is about rumors and gossip. If people say the wrong things about a girl she may not be able to get married.” My turn to wear the ‘I just saw a ghost or two look’.

We finished lunch with more digestible topics like children, English, Hangeul and Kimchi. But is stuck with me all day! At night, after our language exchange session at the coffee shop, I asked my language partner who does not command the English language as well at this point about this conversation. It took nearly five tries to communicate the content enough for her to understand. Her reply put this whole thing to bed for me, errr, maybe not a good choice of words. “No Michael. A woman cannot do that Michael. I do not know why but it is never allowed.”

“So you or her will never be able to come to my place across the street from both of you and eat dinner or watch a movie with me and talk? Ever?”

“No Michael. I am sorry but we cannot do that. It is Korean culture. I do not know why but it is this way Michael.”

I shared with her the part of my earlier discussion about safety and gossip. “Yes, that must be why Michael.”

“This makes me sad.” I stopped there.

I am still sad a day later. Partially since I cannot hang out with my friends individually and I for the most part, do not like crowds larger than two people. That is the self-centered sadness. The greater ache is that of social norms that prevent love, friendship and relationships based on gossip and perceived or potential safety hazards. Have we not gotten past some of this yet? How can a college professor still not be able to keep male friendships and maintain her social and professional status? AAAHHHHHHH!

I am sad, very sad. I was happier standing in my cultural bliss of ignorance less than thirty-six hours ago.

Malaysian Street Women or How Michael Again Proves his Cluelessness

Malaysian Street Women or How Michael Again Proves his Cluelessness

I was out walking through downtown Georgetown on Penang Island in Malaysia. I had spent part of the afternoon in Batu Ferringhi on the beach. I was ready for some dinner after a semi-clean shower that at least was successful in cooling me off from the almost ninety degree day on December 29th. I left Night and Day Guesthouse an turned right towards Penang Avenue where I could find something interesting to eat. What with so many choices of Indian, Thai, Malay, Chinese and combination of all of the above, how could I go wrong right?

Well, I am Michael and there is always the distinct possibility of me taking a simple task and finding away to turn it into something, clears throat, ‘interesting’. This night was not except to that rule that I seem to live by.

I turned right at the street just before Penang Avenue and started towards the huge Malaysian version if a food court. In Malaysia, they have these large sometimes covered, sometimes not areas with table and chairs outdoors where you just roam around the squared off section and choose different foods from around the world prepared fresh and VERY CHEAPLY of anything from satay chicken on a stick to nasi (rice) with anything you want on it to Mee (yellow noodles in a bowl with chicken broth) covered with your favorite sauces, gravy, meats or vegetables. All the vendors are privately owned and operated by real people who eat what they cook for you too. Yo can eat three main courses from equal the amount of cultures all for about $5.00. I was just about to reach the entrance to this particular food court taking in the combination of curry, garlic and fish when an attractive and normally dressed young woman walks over and says “Hi” to me. She seemed friendly so I stopped and said, “hello” back to her. She had brown hair, about 5’ 5” tall average weight and a pretty but not extremely noticeable face. I believe she was Malay. She would look normal on line at the bank, grocery store or the food court. She had no heavy make-up or jewelry, no tight pants or deep cleavage. Just a regular girl in her twenties who while we were exchanging “hellos” she casually reached over and gently started rubbing my penis! Just like that! It took my about a minute to collect myself and reel in my now ecstatic hormones to excuse myself and start walking away while she was following me. I escaped by walking through the cemetery across the street without her following me. It is amazing how the potential threat of a ghost haunting a person can be a source of safety in certain situations.

I ate a nice dinner at an inside Indian restaurant and found myself very attracted to everything that did not come into this world with a penis. My senses were on high alert. The Tandoori Chicken and garlic Naan were delicious. I left feeling satiated at least food-wise. Time for a nice walk around downtown at night before I meet up with my friend Happy.

As I walked with increased sensitivity, I noticed there were certain women ‘stationed’ along the way. Growing up outside NYC I do have that kind of perception, if not slowed by distance and lack of interaction with that world. There was this very interesting and attractive in a late night B mo vie kind of way dark skinned Indian woman who had dyed part of her hair with crimson streaks. I’d by lying if I did not admit to more than passing acknowledgment. She was wearing simple clothes but her eyes were wild, very wild. Like cover of a romance novel type wild. Then there was the Malay woman in her late twenties, maybe early thirties wearing a nice red and yellow traditional Malay blouse with jeans. She was soft and gentle looking. She does not have any of that rough, beaten-down and beaten-up, used and abused look of NYC street women. I could see her passing the ‘mom test’ if I wanted to take her home for approval. She had these nice warm, caring eyes and her voice was equally as soft. The clue was her saying “Hi” to me three times and looking me up and down the third time. I flinched and scampered away.

I met up with my friend Happy later on and it turned out his car was parked directly in front of the dark-skinned Indian woman with the crimson striped hair. She approached us and then actually just opened the back door to the car and started to sit down, as if invited and welcome! Happy spoke to her in Malay and hew got out slowly. He turned the car on while telling me, “She is on drugs.” Little does he know how easily that part was for me to identify. She then opened the back door again and this time sat with confidence while he was forcefully telling her to get out. At this point she started shutting the door like she was here to stay. He became more forceful and louder; she hesitated but eventually stood half in and half out. I told him to pull away and he did and she got out without closing the door. Happy and I talked along the way about her, and street women.

I still have the impression that these women and their lack of outwardly distinctive presentation of self are so different than their American counterparts. I have to say; it made me cautious when interacting with women the rest of the trip. Not to the point where I felt inhibited, just mindful. This is such a stark contrast to living in Korea where I do not believe I have seen one prostitute in my about to be half year here.

In case I had somehow convinced myself that I have reached any level of higher knowledge or wisdom, my experiences observing and unintentionally interacting with these women has cleared up any false sense of spiritual development or enlightenment. The Teachings come in all shapes and forms. I am fortunate for the education in spite of myself.

Who are these women and what are they doing on my TV screen?

Who are these women and why are they on my TV screen?

I have been putting off writing this piece for almost six months now. Wow has it really been six months since I landed here in Korea? Almost.

I have struggled with observing the way Korean TV portrays women in commercials. They remind me of the stuff that was on TV in the states in the fifties and early sixties when women were dressed in expensive, perfect clothes to vacuum their living rooms with the hair perfectly set in a bun, make-up that most models would drool over and smiling from ear to ear like they are being romanced by Antonio Banderas AND Sean Connery on a solo vacation in Madrid. They all have that glazed over I love being a dutiful housewife look. It just grosses me out sometimes. I kept thinking at some point I would find some kind of acceptance or something but I have become even more intolerant as time has gone by. I didn’t want to write this from such a judgmental, insensitive perspective but tonight it ached to see a woman smiling in her perfectly clean soft white cotton dress, skin without a blemish, hair that does not move, smiling orgasmically at the exterminator killing the cockroaches behind the fridgerator while her two angelic children stand on each side of her with arms around each either. Eeeeeeww! Somehow I found the cockroaches more acceptable than the woman herself. Who would want to marry such a woman?

This is the standard portrayal of the Korean woman on TV commercials; The Stepford Wives meet Kim Eun Cheong (not a real name). They have other life or aspirations but a clean house, cute children, happy husband and a perfect smile that has no color or expression of Self. They live a martyr’s life in their kitchen and laundry room dressed in their white cotton and silk dresses that appear to have never been breathed on precious to that moment. Men are rarely present in TV commercials, it is strange their lack of visibility. Was June Cleaver even this perfect? At least Carol Brady had a housekeeper when looking like she had never touched a dish, mud stain or a child’s vomit. We could count on Olivia Walton to be dirty, you know live up there on Blue Ridge Mountain with all that survival stuff going on before they went to bed at night with their absurd goodnight ritual:
“Ben: Goodnight Mama.
Olivia: Goodnight Ben. Goodnight Jim Bob.
Jim Bob: 'Night Mama, 'night Erin.
Erin: 'Night Jim Bob, 'night Grandpa.
Grandpa: 'Night Erin, goodnight Jason.
Jason: Goodnight Grandpa, goodnight Daddy.
John: Goodnight Jason, goodnight Elizabeth.
Elizabeth: Goodnight Daddy. Goodnight John-Boy.
John-Boy is standing outside listening to the voices. He answers quietly: Goodnight everybody, - I love you.”

The thing that irks me the most about these commercials is the fact that for the most part, Korean moms are simple, grounded and wonderfully imperfect people. It is what I like most about them; they are regular folks who do their best dressed in clothes that make sense for the tasks of their day. They bare no resemblance to these women who have a post-sex contentment over their Hauzen washer’s tiny bubbles filling their home to the ceiling with bubbles. It would make more sense in the states where moms often wear make-up, fix their hair and change their clothes five times a day to look good for the other mother's who live down the street and pick up their children after soccer practice but this is Korea and moms really are not like that here.

Why does this still exist in 2009?
Who buys into this crap?

I only have thing left to say:
“Good night Jim Bob.”

A Land Without Lifting and Separating

It is refreshing to walk down the street and see women’s bodies, well, look like women’s bodies. Since Victoria’s Secret came out with the first Miracle Bra, lifting and separating have become the way of the American female. This is even true with girls in middle school who are still part of the itty-bitty-titty-committee and, therefore, nothing to actually lift or separate. Here in Cheonan, South Korea, I do not think I have seen more than a handful of women who think they need to make the breasts look like something other than a human female and her natural beauty. And by the way, Victoria’s Secret isn’t really a secret, men liking sexy lingerie on the women they love existed way before “Victoria” and her air-brushed models that haven’t eaten since the late eighties shared her “secret” with us.

I have also seen very few women who feel obligated to make sure we see their bra every time they leave the house. It is a fashion and style that I find unattractive and have since it first become popular among the late night bar scene girls about a dozen years ago. I think Madonna was the one responsible for starting this trend but am not certain. Whether it is male or female, I really do not want to see your underwear, even if it is a pink, silk thong. I think being the only person who sees someone’s underwear is half the fun of seeing it. It being public viewing somehow reduces this sense of a private and intimate experience.

The third form of fashion that has come to my attention is the polarity of choices of exposure to the sun in America and here in South Korea. Cute little white girls dedicate their whole summer to “getting a tan”. It is a full-time job that pretty much nullifies any other daytime commitments for many a white college girl. Here in the east, women go to even greater lengths to NOT let their skin change color. In fact, many walk a way around with a special form of umbrella specifically made for shielding a woman from the sun. Woman who are a little older use a different method of limiting exposure of the sun and its rays. They were these neat sun visors that are similar to what many tennis players wear, except it extends out much further blocking exposure to the whole face, not just the eyes.

I have enjoyed observing the differences between cultures and what they see as attractive and what they go to great lengths to avoid. It may be just the novelty of something new and different, but so far, being in a culture where sexuality is not flaunted as openly is refreshing and helpful in supporting me becoming the man I know I am to be. I cannot imagine how much easier it must be for the women.