Crossing the Cultural Barrier

by Holly Rae (Canada)

Making a local connection Korea South

Making a local connection I sat on a bench at the top of stairs that exited the metro. I held a small hand fan to my to my face , that I had purchased at the convenient store the day before. The cool breeze blew the sticky hairs off the back of neck and I realized why everyone carried one of these in the summer. I was pleased I had arrived on time, how easily I had navigated my way to the staton. My instructions in a language I could not understand, but the colour coated pathways and google maps had lead me here. Two years ago Jisu Yun had come to America to earn credit towards her degree and live the American dream for a little while. I had spent hours in excel spreadsheets and paperwork to prepare for her arrival along with 50 other students. I had no idea at the time i’d be waiting for her on this bench in the middle of Seoul, South Korea exactly two years later. I looked up from my screen to the see the top of a head with a perfectly curled fringe, split in the middle to shape her face. I peeled my bare thighs off the bench to embrace her, we both exhaled a small squeal in excitement. Modesty Dressed in jeans in this stifling heat , I was glad I’d worn covered shoulders despite the heat building under my arms. Unlike the gridded subway the streets winded like thin cold noodles , I followed her through the hills, glass trees and green trees stood tall next to each other and small shops with slated roofs were unseen until close. We entered one that seemed as if it may be closed, but came to find thousands of colours of skirts hung all in a row, colour coated on each rack like the subway lines. We sorted through the designs and I rushed slightly to get the one I wanted before another girl found it. Next, we picked a delicate white top and a skirt that appeared to have an umbrella stuffed under it. Heading up the stairs a small woman helped us to dress , turning me round and pulling tight , with no words my friend and I giggled a first time experience for the both of us. We then followed the crowd into the next room and sat in chairs in line waiting to have pins of pearls and flowers placed in our hair resting on delicate braids. After stowing our bags we followed the stream of coloured skirts across the street. I ducked under the gate into a long stone hallway, and there it began. Girls stood against the stone wall posing for photos , their friends knelt in front with an iPhone , framing the perfect shot. Turning the corner the palace is revealed. I saw people of all different colours, heard all different languages, all aiming to achieve the same thing. The perfect instagram photo. I asked my friend if she thought it was disrespectful for foreigners to wear the traditional handbook for tourism. She said no, as It was only worn to take pictures in on special occasions , so therefore there wasn’t a lot of meaning behind it to her. Back into the subway we waited by the side of the track. A glass wall stood between us and the ground. They added the walls after numerous suicides from stepping off the ledge onto the tracks as the train approached. I was surprised to see how the city had made it their responsibility to protect its citizens from themselves. We explored the streets of different districts. After finishing a cup of ice cream, I looked for a place to throw away my trash, but saw no garbage cans on the street. I asked my friend if we would come upon one. She explained the city had removed public trash cans after a bomb had been placed in one. Again I saw the municipality take measures into their own hands and the people respond with respect. No trash littered the streets.