Formality in the Korean Consulate

In order to obtain a work visa, I had to travel to the Korean Consulate of Chicago for an interview.  I've had many international friends but never heard of such thing as a visa interview before.  Anyway, I took a day off and woke up at 4:30 a.m. to ride five hours to downtown Chicago with my mom for a 10:30 a.m. visa interview.  (I suppose I shouldn't elaborate on the time as if it were a complaint.  After all, I did get a brand new MacBook Pro out of the deal--a late graduation gift from my parents.  We just happened to walk by the Apple store on the way to lunch. Thank you, Mom and Dad.) 

I arrived to the sky scraper building by about 10:15 and rode the elevator to the 26th floor for the Korean Consulate office.  Inside, about a dozen people my age were either lined up in the visa line or sitting in nearby chairs waiting for their chance to prove they had only honorable intentions for entering the country.  Most of the people were preparing to teach English as well.  The clothing combinations of the applicants in front of me demonstrated that we all had different interpretations of the interview formality.  One girl wore black dress pants and neatly tucked hair balanced by an uncovered facial piercing. I imagined the interviewer granting her two points for the clothes and subtracting one for the piercing. The dude in front of her sported a grey zip-up sweatshirt, jeans and a backpack with a just-as-confident demeanor.  I calculated these factors while examining my own denim capris and sneakers on bottom and corduroy jacket on top. I used extra bobby pins to tame my messy 

bun.  Was this supposed to be formal? 

I gave my documents to the Korean secretary and waited for my interview.  The interviews were conducted two at a time, and I soon discovered that we all were scheduled in the 10:30 a.m. time slot.  At one point, I attempted to read a Korean document sitting out, and my limited attempt impressed a nearby Korean woman. I hope they will appreciate my attempts when I'm in South Korea. I listened to the other applicants talk about how far they'd come for their interview and where they would be teaching in Korea. Finally, they called my name.  I went in for my interview with another applicant who was dressed a little bit better than me.  

A middle-aged man dressed in a suit asked the questions.  As soon as I was required to respond, I was surprised to remember I had gum in my mouth.  Yikes!  Minus two points! Why were we going to go to South Korea?  What was our college experience like?  What were the purposes of our other overseas experiences?  The process took about five or ten minutes.  The interviewer didn't smile, laugh or respond to any of our answers.  

When we were finished, I turned to the man and said "Kamsahamnida" (Thank you in Korean.) I wanted to show my efforts to learn from other cultures. (Maybe this would balance out the points I'd missed for the chewing gum I tried to hide.)  The interviewer didn't smile, laugh or respond. 

"Is that correct? Kamsahamnida?" I asked. He glanced up at me and nodded while maintaining his interviewer stoicism. 

My Korean friend, Jackson, told me the man wouldn't have considered it appropriate to smile or laugh during a formal interview.  I realized I often laugh to ease the awkwardness of formality.  There was a lot of formality to learn when I trained to be a server at the Cedar Rapids Marriott and Elmcrest Country Club.  The trainers wanted me to talk to the guests in a certain way and deliver entrees in a certain direction (serving from the left and clearing from the right, especially for a wedding party.)  Serving wine is one of the most nerve-racking things I've ever done.  And pulling the cork is only half of the difficulty.  The server must juggle the bottle, opener and presentation cloth throughout the process.  She must first offer the wine to the person who ordered it, wait for his/her approval, and then serve the guests, following the direction rules.  The server must not forget to offer the cork for smelling purposes.  (Now, I pride myself in knowing how to serve it properly, but one can't help but feel scared the first time.)  I guess I think acting personable trumps formality and usually results in bigger tips anyway than abiding by service etiquette.  When I first started working for CIEP, all of my emails looked very formal and were signed with my name and title, but gradually my emails became more personal.  

I hope to continue to discover the way formal situations are regarded by others around the world.   I know many of my international friends think Americans look like slobs, judging from the way they dress.  I think they have a point.l

My Korean friend, Bin, is one of the most giggly people I know, but I guess I've never seen her in a formal situation.  It sounds silly, but I honestly worried if my visa would be denied because of my chewing gum.  Luckily, the visa arrived two days later in the mail. Korean adjustment #1: What is formal is formal.  Laughter is for later.  

Reflections from Dorian Gray

This is my last summer of singleness in the States, and on the surface, it may seem strenuous. (How's that for an aliteration?) Planning for a wedding that's eleven months away, attempting to dodge red tape necessary for a work visa only to finally grit my teeth and succumb to bureaucratic rules, continuing to coordinate activities for the CIEP with some success--these are a few of my summer tasks. But I've actually had a fairly peaceful summer so far. Most days, I spend two or three hours in my office, and the rest of the afternoon soaking up romantic moments with my fiance, maintaining my physique through regular exercise, breaking in my domestic instincts, and reading for enjoyment. It has been enjoyable! I recently read "The Picture of Dorian Gray," by Oscar Wilde. Nick loaned me the book, but I finished it because I want to participate in conversations about the classics. (I found myself in a conversation where I couldn't.)

I noticed that my current speed of life actually resembles the main character's. Dorian Gray is an exceedingly good-looking British bachelor, whose eligibility seems to derive from a wealthy geneology and inheritance. I'm not sure if Dorian Gray does anything for a living, but like me, his daily activities consist of social gatherings, trips to the opera and occasional engagement in the study of other arts including music and literature but mostly aesthetic forms. (I have never been to an opera, but have enjoyed the freedom to enjoy people and art (such as this book) with my summer vacation time.) No longer a college student, I need this kind of stimulation to keep my mind from growing lazy.

In the book, Basil Halward develops a peculiar infatuation with Gray and paints a portrait of him to fuel his worship. Upon completion of the portrait, Gray admires his own face in the work and wishes outloud for his looks never to alter but for the wear of age and tear of sin to show in the picture instead. (I find the dramaticism of British dialogue amusing.)

"How sad it is!" murmured Dorian Gray, with his eyes still fixed upon his own portrait. "...I shall grow old, and horrible and dreadful. But this picture will remain always young....If only it were the other way around!..."

Like most wishes in stories, Dorian's wish comes true. The picture magically becomes a window into the soul of Dorian Gray. As he begins to notice alterations in his portrait, due to moments of cruelty and sin, Dorian becomes consumes, even obsessed, with hiding the image. With the image out of sight, he feels increasingly indifferent and calloused toward others and the harm he causes others. I'll try not to give the entire book away, but after a time of intense cruelty, Dorian decides to change and makes an intentional effort at a moral act. Thinking again of the picture, Dorian rushes to the portrait, hoping to see a positive alteration, but he is disappointed.

Wilde writes:
A cry of pain and indignation broke from him. He could see no change, save that in the eyes there was a look of cunning and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of the hypocrite. The thing was still loathesome--more loathesome, if possible, than before....Then he trembled. Had it been merely vanity that made him do his one good deed?

The author wanted this work to be separate from moral teaching, but I couldn't help but ask myself: Are my good deeds in life motivated by a desire to cover up the effects of age and sin on my public image? Is beauty a primary motivating factor or merely a fortunate side effect of good deeds? It seems like if beauty is a motivating factor, then I must stand with Dorian on the side of vanity. But then again, is beauty a vane motivation if the good deed brings joy to the recipient, glory to God and satisfaction to my heart? Would the Bible mention beauty as a side effect of good deeds if God had not intended for women to read it and feel motivated, at least partially, by it? (1 Peter 3:4-6). Maybe "partially"is the key word in the question. Beauty for one's own glory is different from beauty for beauty's sake. Is vanity, the chance that someone might admire me, my primary motivation for loving my neighbors and serving others, or is it meeting the needs of others and thanksgiving to God?

I guess this question is too big for me to answer unless I had a self-portrait like Dorian's, which served as a window to my soul.

Fourth of July Reflections

Yesterday marked the two hundred and thirty-third anniversary of United States’ independence. I celebrated the holiday with my international friends who have enjoyed (or at least endured) the U.S. education system at the University of Northern Iowa. It’s ironic and sweet to spend time in the presence of people from Saudi Arabia, China, Bosnia, Japan, and South Korea on the birth date of this nation. We enjoyed a good ole American barbecue at Seerley Park, complete with watermelon, Frisbee and hamburgers, prepared by my fiancé, Nick. After the meal, we packed up the leftovers and walked over the UNI dome to join the city of Cedar Falls in viewing the fireworks show.
Last year, Nick was struck by the oddity of explosive entertainment as he watched a Rwandan man flinch at every burst. This year, a Bosnian friend sat behind me during the show, and though he enjoyed them for the first time in several years, his presence gave me the same slight sensation of shame. It’s pretty easy to share in the glory of victory through fireworks when it’s been years since the U.S. has experienced a war on our own soil, with the exception of 9/11. But I was able to enjoy the fireworks anyway when I could separate myself from these thoughts.
Another more light-hearted moment of irony occurred during a pit stop from our promenade to the Dome, during which two girls from China and South Korea, changed clothes in order to proudly sport patriotic tank tops with U.S.-shaped flags on them, purchased from Walmart. They were pretty cute, and I told them they looked like cute Americans. The words sounded uncomfortable after they came out. What did I mean by that? Maybe it’s appropriate to recognize America’s sins as well as victories on Independence Day, to think of ourselves and our nation with sober judgment.
Yesterday was particularly significant for me as it marked one month until I will board a plane for South Korea. I will teach English in Taegu for eight months. Different people have reacted differently to this announcement:

“How fun! I’m glad you’re doing this while you’re young and single.”

“Ooo…Stay away from the border. Have you been watching the news?”

“Eight months! Is Nick going, too? When are you getting married again?”

“What was your degree again?...You don’t need a teaching degree to teach English in South Korea?”

People ask me how I feel about it now that the departure date is nearing. I guess I don’t feel much different. I wanted to experience what my international friend’s experience, being immersed in a culture for an extended stay. I’ll be immersed in a new language and dependent upon others for help—two things that are good for learning humility. I’m worried about getting lost, worried about learning to teach or about, by some chance, not liking it and being stuck for eight months. I’m not worried about North Korea or about trying Korean food or learning the Korean culture and language. That’s about as much as I can pour out of my mind as far as how I feel about it at the moment, but I thought I’d start this blog to keep people, and myself, up to date.
One of my friends just returned from Vietnam and said she realized there are some ways in which America is less free. I’m excited for observations like this one that keep my perspective fresh and new. I’m excited to be changed by a new experience. Maybe I’ll come back wearing a t-shirt with a South-Korean shaped picture of the South Korean flag. J