I was watching the Togo-Switzerland game with a Korean friend in a little Tudari (투다리) knock-off bar last night. I called the ajumma over to order two beers (500cc) and a plate of chicken nuggets. Now, my Korean is not perfect - there are some (large) holes in my vocabulary and I make the (more than) occassional grammatical error - but my strength is my pronunciation and fluency. However, the three or four times I said, “오백 두잔 하고 치킨 너겟 하나 주세요,” I was greeted by a puzzled look from the ajumma. I noticed that she didn’t even try to process what I had said. Finally my friend said exactly as I had and the ajumma nodded her head and scurried off to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a heaping pile of chicken nuggets. There were enough to feed a dozen people. She told us that she wanted to give us “a few” extra because I was a foreigner.

This little anecdote is innocuous on the surface, but I think it perfectly represents my life here. Living as a foreigner in Korea is a confluence of aggravations and pleasant experiences. The aggravations are mostly small, such as occasionally encountering a Korean whose brain locks when they see a foreigner - rendering them unable to grasp the fact that I might actually be speaking Korean. But the trade-off is that, as a foreigner (perhaps because I’m white), I am often the beneficiary of extreme acts of generosity. Sometimes uncomfortably so. Still, there is most definitely a kind yin/yang effect to living in Korea and I try to let the positive experiences linger in my memory bank longer than the negative. It’s easier to carry a cheerful disposition that way. And really, who doesn’t want to be happy?

When I am asked the question, “What would you like to change about Korea?” I offer the most diplomatic answer I can think of - which is usually, “I wish, in their daily lives, Koreans would show each other the same level of kindness that they show me.” How nice would that be?