I mentioned before that I talked on Sunday with Matt, who is in the Netherlands for the year on a Fulbright. He asked me how I was dealing with the culture shock, since it must be so different from the States, and I answered that it really wasn't all that different. I told him about a couple cultural differences (like how you use different verb endings and words depending on the age and position of the person you are speaking to) and he replied that it sounded pretty different to him. I think just around that point of the conversation my cell phone went dead, so we didn't get to complete our talk.
[Aside: cell phones. I read an incredible statistic recently, in a Koreana article (one of the magazines I edit). There are some 46 million people living in Korea. 30 million have cell phones. So approximately 80 to 90 percent of adults and adolescents have 'em. Elementary school children rank a cell phone second in a list of gifts they would like to receive (the first being a puppy). Everyone, and I mean everyone, has one, from my 62-year-old Ajuma to the Cambodian student who is here through a church sponsorship. And yes, even I have one.
I have a "han-doh pohn" (hand phone), for the first time in my life. My dad got it for me on my second day in Korea, and the saleswoman insisted I have the latest model, not the basic (and I thought still very nice-looking) model I would have chosen. She also insisted that I choose a doll to hang on the end of the phone. Everyone here, included men, has something dangling from the end of their cell phone. Mine is a character called Holeman. It's basically a black snowman-like figure with a big head, in the middle of which is a large gray circle. Don't ask. Out of the selection, which included more humanoid figures, cutesy animals, and stickers, Holeman was the least laughable. Since then I've realized that the dangling doll phenomenon is just the tip of the iceberg. In the subway, you can buy phone covers that look like furry bears or dogs or cats or the cute animal of your choice.
The whole accessory thing is even funnier considering that the cell phone technology is so advanced. Color LCD monitors. Photography capabilities. Text messaging, plugging into the internet -- all now basic features on your average phone here. I mentioned the subway vendors of handphone accessories, but I didn't mention that underground reception is a given. Everyone talks on the subway. A lot of people, especially women, politely cover their mouths and phones when they talk, but lots don't.
Okay, end of the cell phone aside.]
So I was talking about speaking with Matt about the differences between Korea and the States. As I wasn't too eloquent on the topic, I now take this opp to explain. When I said that it wasn't that much different here, I meant that all the outward trappings aren't all that different from those in the States.
To wit: I live in a large, cosmopolitan city. I work in a medium-sized company. I take the subway. I live in a house with plumbing and even western-style toilets. I wear the same clothes I did in D.C. and don't feel too out of place here. I sleep in a bed, not on the floor.
It's not like I'm in rural Kenya, or even rural Kentucky, where I'd probably feel a lot more out of place than here.
But Matt's right. There are a ton of differences here. The language, for one (duh), and all the cultural mores therein. Somehow, though, it hasn't been that hard yet to get along. I guess I'm pretty sheltered in that I go to school and work and home, and don't interact with too many people in uncontrolled environments, but I still don't think it would be that difficult to adjust. It surprises me to think this. Perhaps it just testifies to the extent of westernization here? Maybe I'm more Korean than I thought? Maybe I'm just an adaptable person?
Or maybe I'm just wrong. Dunno.

I have a love/hate relationship with the subway. I'm on it for 2 hours each day, and it's usually as crowded as the Mall on Fourth of July, and people shove and push and don't even wait for you to get out before pushing their way in (like, people! Do you think that maybe if you waited for all of us to get off the train and didn't crowd around the door, it might be faster overall than leaving us no space at all to get out? Do ya think?)
At the same time, it's the only time during the day I get to do a significant amount of people-watching, and that is fascinating. All these profound thoughts come to me when I'm riding the subway, or when I'm walking on the street, and of course I never remember them when I'm staring at a blank screen or page.
One thing I do remember thinking of (and frequently) is the diversity of the population. Now, I know Korea's diversity has nothing on, say, America's diversity. I know it's the most homogeneous country in the world (yup. I think the population is something like 96 percent ethnically Korean. Literacy rate is also about that high). But it's the faces that arrest me. I used to think that Asians did really look rather alike. I remember visiting Peaches at UCLA (University of Caucasians under the Law of Asians) our freshman year and being stunned at the sheer volume of slant-eyes like me. How did anyone ever tell each other apart? (Yeah, I know, I'm such a banana [white on the inside, yellow on the outside].) But here, where there are even more Asians, of course, it's surprisingly easy to distinguish between people.
I must admit that the hair color thing makes it easier to differentiate between folks, which may be the end goal of bleaching your hair to the weird burnt sienna (didn't you love that Crayon color name?)/orange shade that I accidentally achieved on Oct. 30, 1997 when I was trying to peroxide my hair blonde. (Halloween costume. Don't ask.) If only I had been able to time- and space-warp my way into Korean society of 2002 the following day, I wouldn't have had to pull a baseball cap over my yeah-I-ate-300-pounds-of-carrots color hair and skulk over to CVS to buy a bottle of "Nut Brown" Nice 'n Easy while keeping an eye out for, um, anyone.
Everyone dies their hair here. Well, except high school kids, who aren't really allowed to (doesn't really match their uniforms). Some dye their hair the aforementioned orange, others opt for relatively tasteful streaks of light brown or blonde, and some, lord bless 'em, go all out and go for long, curly, blonde hair with matching fall in front last seen on Dolly Parton in 1985. Or maybe Wynnona Judd in 1988.
Stop laughing. I kid you not.
It's hard to tell these days if the person ahead of you is Asian or not. (Miki says she feels the same way in Japan.) Maybe that's part of the allure - a way to make yourself look different from everyone else. Someone here was telling me that 10 years ago, this was unheard of - you would have gotten some strange looks if you'd dyed your hair in 1992. Even now, if you're a high school kid and you dye your hair, you're considered a bit of a problem child. But for everyone else (and yes, I have seen little children with streaked or dyed hair too), it's de rigeur. Gotta love the irony.