Visit to Suncheon, South Korea - Tourism and Simulacra

During my orientation week in Gwuangju I went on a field trip with Canadian Connections to the Nakan-eupseong folk village and the Seonamsa temple. Both sites were extremely scenic showcasing the splendor of rural South Korea and its immense historical heritage. But throughout the excursion to the village and temple I was constantly drawn towards the juxtaposition of modernity and tradition which characterizes many of the broader features of South Korean culture.

One gets the sense of this juxtaposition when strolling along Nakan-eupseong's many dirt roads and seeing the vendors on either side selling souvenirs and beverages from the same stone houses their ancestors once occupied. While many of the attendants who collect the tickets and sell the souvenirs live in these stone houses, their daily lives have changed from a concern about agricultural to one concerned with sustaining a viable tourist industry. The major attraction at the village is a 1.41 km long and 4m high protective wall that was original made of sand and built to guard against the threat of the invading Japanese army in 1397. The wall was rebuilt in stone some 300 years later. Today that same wall which was intended to keep foreigners out is the same thing that draws them in.

In addition to the wall there are numerous exhibits scattered throughout the village in workshops, sanctuaries, and court yards. These exhibits all have plaques beside each designated area supplying the relevant historical background. But in place of the villagers of the town there are posed ceramic statues recreating a familiar scene like a priest uttering a prayer or a prisoner receiving a sentenced... forever frozen in time for the next photo op. According to the leaflet I received, Nakan-eupseong "remains just as it was hundreds of years ago."


(Jonah Saifer, Shari Beaver, and Myself - two teachers I met during orientation but who may not share the opinions expressed here)

The Seonamsa temple was a different sort of attraction that was much like visiting a historic church in North America or Europe. On the day we were on the temple grounds there were a number of offerings being made by a group of female spiritual leaders in the weeks approaching the celebration of Buddha’s birthday. Along the path to the temple entrance there were the familiar vendors selling souvenirs but none were actually in the temple. The rampant consumerism that characterized the Nakan-eupseong village was not at all the impression I had of the Seonamsa temple, rather it has remained a place of worship and a sacred ground revered by its patrons.

There were no pictures allowed inside the temple buildings but tourists were not discouraged from entering. Wandering into one of the main temples I spent a long time examining the elaborately painted wall murals, the decorative yellow, red, and turquoise green ceiling beams, the numerous lotus lamps hung from the ceiling, and the three enormous gold statues of Buddha placed on the center altar. Before I knew it there was a sudden rush of women filing into the temple. Within two minutes I was packed in tightly and could not easily get out without forcing a wave of bodies to move around me. A bell was rung and all those present in the room began to bow ten or more times consecutively. They went from standing, to kneeling, to leaning forward, and resting their head against their forearms laid flat against the ground. Silence filled the room as the bowing ceased and the women stood with their palms pressed together in a more familiar prayer gesture. The aroma of incense thickened the air as the women began to chant and pray in unison creating hypnotic melody with their voices. Reflecting on my experience in the Seonamsa temple, I felt as though I had intruded on a moment - treading on the tradition that resonated in that room. Once the procession was over and I could final part from the crowd, I asked one of the Korean guides "was it right for me to be present in the temple during the ceremony?". He smiled and said "you shouldn't have been there but it was an innocent offense like a child talking out during a church service. You didn't know any better."

The Nakan-eupseong village and the Seonamsa temple illustrate the shared interest to include a dialogue with the past. This strange blend of tradition and modern exhibitionism takes place throughout South Korea and reflects a cultural identity that is oriented towards preservation. However, this is not to say that this closeness to its past is merely aesthetic or in complete isolation from the outside world. We in the West often think of Asian culture as static and unchanging in their tributes to the past. They are characterized as a people with a transfixed orientation to myth/legend who have failed to "properly" adopt Western language and culture. Perhaps we are the ones duped by the promise of an authentic Orient formed in the interpretation of its art and cultural relics? The reality is that South Korea and other Asian cultures adapt to change at a rapid pace through their capacity for synthesis. As changes inevitably occur throughout the course of history, these cultures have managed to last for centuries because their model of change is one that continues to resemble itself and does not merely substitute past for future. In South Korea there is the sense that despite the expectations for the future it must honor the remains of its past. It is life in ruins.


Nakan-eupseong (castle) folk village










Seonamsa (temple)

Arrival in Korea: Stepping Out

After a gruelling 24hr travelling experience that included a 13 ½ hr flight, a 6 hr layover, and two 1hr shuttle buses, I finally arrived at Gwangju, South Korea, my home for the next week. Here we are going through the training course for the Jeollanamdo school board - learning bits of Korean language and how to manage the classroom. Apparently this is not the norm for teachers in Korea as some school boards throw you right into classes without any time to decompress. The other teachers here come from all over the world and represent a wide range of age groups, genders, and academic backgrounds. Despite the differences everyone here seems to thirst for adventure of some sort. You could say that the first prerequisite of the job is being able to step on a plane and leave everyone and everything you know behind.

Education is a big deal in Korea and English is a compulsory subject. It is amazing to read the history of this place! In less than thirty years Korea has emerged from a fairly impoverished nation to become one of the most industrial nations on the planet. On the scale of global development Korea is the equivalent of an overnight success. This is a high-tech fast paced country which exports everything from Samsung electronics, Hyundia cars, to various pharmaceuticals. They see the ability to speak English, the language of international commerce, as a key component of securing their future growth and prosperity. English is not only important on a national but also an individual level. In Korea, English is one component of the national exam that will determine what university a child will go to upon graduating high school. For many parents, investing in their children's education will secure their retirement because Koreans do not typically place the elderly in a retirement home. So needless to say there is a lot riding on the subject of English for the average Korean.

I make mention of this all as a way of explaining what has brought me here – it is to say that I am not here due to anything that I have done. Although I stepped on a plane and signed a contract, none of this would have happened if there wasn't already this demand for native English speakers. In the opening ceremony speech, our regional manager confessed to an audience of new teachers that “English is a powerful language”. This comment although not intended with any malice was an accusation that pointed directly at me. Prior to this I had never thought of the privilege I had as an English speaker, but here I was preparing to give lessons on an imperialist language that has disempowered indigenous populations throughout Asia and the world over. It is a language that homogenizes within a culture and adapts to the differences in local dialects. It is a language that extends rights an privileges along a hierarchy. Again, it is the language of imperialism.

I began to resent the privilege I had received and never asked for; but as offensive and unjustified as my privilege is I have been given an opportunity to teach not because of who I am but because of what English represents to the future of individuals, families, and communities in Korea. While the world holds English above all other languages, equality is an impossibility not because of its dominance but because our differences persist despite external limitations. Maybe we in the West can help by stepping out of our privilege to find some common ground between the “us” and “them” paradigm?

After spending only a few days in Korea, the locals that I had a chance to interact with showed incredible patience, generosity, and understanding. On a number of occasions I had to explain that I was a vegetarian – repeating again and again the only English words they seemed to respond to like “vegetable” and “no" "meat/beef/pork”. I couldn't help but think had roles been reversed and they were the foreigner in North America would they have received the same compassion? Would there be anyone who understood the Korean term for vegetable? Not likely. Foreigners brave enough to venture to the West are simply expected to speak the language fluently and are blamed if they fall short of this expectation. I'm grateful for my experience so far and the Koreans I have had a chance to interact with but this is not the standard everywhere. Within a week I'll be headed to Haenam which is said to have a very limited number of English speakers. For any foreigner, living in rural South Korea is both a compromising alienation and a step out farther from their comfort zone.