White Like Me

Any time you move to a new country, you have to expect to stand out a bit. Even if you can manage to physically blend in with the rest of the populace, you will inevitably give yourself away as a foreigner by your accent, your ignorance of local customs and manners, your means of interacting with people, or all of the above.

Moving to South Korea, I presumed I would be a bit of an oddity. There's no disguising the fact that I am distinctly not from around here. Still, I'm used to the U.S., where even in relatively small towns, there is usually some amount of diversity. 

Not so in Bucheon. Here, I am not just a minority, I am THE minority. Everyone who lives here is Korean. Strolling the sidewalks of my neighborhood, I am a white giant. And everybody notices. 

The stares had an interesting novelty to them in my first week or so. There's no tiptoeing around the issue here--glancing at someone from behind a newspaper, pretending to look at a spot just beyond the person--just blatant, unabashed gawking. 

Children lock their eyes on you and walk backwards until you are out of sight. They grab their mother's hand and point, saying "Mikuk, Mikuk!" 

Adults are worse. I have caused near car accidents, pedestrians come close to being roadkill, people bump into each other because they seem to forget their powers of peripheral vision when I am view. 

It is an uncanny feeling, to say the least. 

I am an alien here, in all senses of the word, an interterrestrial not to be missed once spotted. I know there are other English teachers living and working in Bucheon, though I never see them either, so considering the homogeneity of the area, it all makes sense. Realizing this does little to lessen the feeling of being a sideshow attraction, though. The stares are rarely sinister, merely curious. Those who speak even a word of English get quite excited at the prospect of practicing. 

-Hello!

-Hi.

-Where are you from?

-Oh, the U.S.

- . . .?

-America.

-Ha, ha, America! America, very good. America.

End transmission. I have this conversation at least four times a day. 

It's a different story in Seoul, which is about as international as a city can get. In certain areas, there are more foreigners flitting about than Koreans. People don't look twice at me in Seoul, which is a nice break from feeling like the Paris Hilton of Bucheon. I've been to bars whose patrons are all ex-pats of one sort or another, which is equally strange. They all seem to glom together for comfort. Sometimes there are almost too many Americans around in Seoul. There's a U.S. army base right near a very touristy area called Itaewon, and I can't seem to walk two feet without running into an American soldier there. It is nice to find people from home here, even if none of them are from my actual home. I get quite a lot of "ORegon! I hardly know where Oregon IS!" And this is from Americans. 

It's always been my theory that people have the capacity to get used to pretty much anything if they're given enough time. I'm not accustomed to the ogling yet, but I'm sure the time will come when it all seems routine. Until then, eyes forward, one foot in front of the other, and picture the gawkers in their underwear.