What's In a Name?

It seemed like an insignificant event at the time, as normal as licking a stamp and placing it in the corner of an envelope, or like leaving a bookmark on the last page you’ve read in a book. Little did I appreciate the gift and the meaning it would have in my life, as Professor Chae Joon-ki handed me the sheet of paper.

The professor had studied the names of each of the Peace Corps volunteers in our group in Korea. Using the letters and sounds from our first and last names in English, he tried to create a Korean name that would be a meaningful match.

Professor Chae Joon-ki in 1974

I was given the name Song Su Nam. As Korean tradition places the surname name first, my family name is Song, from the Chinese Song Dynasty. Su, means long, like the length of a river, or a life of many years. Nam, is Korean for namja or man. 

That's me, aka Song Su Nam, as a Peace Corps Volunteer (1975)

Since that cold, sunny, January day in 1974, my Korean second name has taken on special meaning for me. I've envisioned myself an old, wise man who lived in Korea during the days of the Song Dynasty, sometime between 960-1279.

Actually, I am quite proud of my original birth surname Schuit, which is purely Dutch for “boat.” That would have been the vehicle that transported my grandparents to America during the second decade of the 20^th century. The name was probably chosen in the early 1800’s as a result of a mandate from Napoleon who, as he conquered Europe, dictated last names as a sign of modernization. No doubt, my ancestors’ occupation had something to do with the sea.

My Korean name, however, has come to take on a bit of magic in its own right. Years ago I had my Korean name inscribed on a traditional Korean stamp (doh-jang). Until fairly recently, the outline of your name, in thick red ink, constituted your signature in all official transactions here.

My Korean name stamp

When referred to endearingly by Korean friends, the word “shi” is added verbally as a suffix, making my given Korean name, Su Nam shi, an expression of closeness and caring in a relationship.

Recently, I acted on a long standing, but unfulfilled intention to get a tattoo. In a tattoo parlor in the Gangnam District in Seoul, In-nyung, a lovely, quiet, young artist took me full circle. On my right leg, she drew the name given to me over forty years ago by Professor Chae. Long since retired from Kyungbuk National University, I was sad to learn that he passed away just a week or two after I got my tattoo.

My Korean name

A name, of course, can be more than just a “handle.” Sometimes, it’s a passport to an entirely different world.

No Country for Young Men

I was on a harmless jaunt last semester, teaching the use of adjectives, when I turned a corner and suddenly collided with history. It was standing there quite alone, in the shadows, withering, collecting dust.

The drill focused on the correct use of adjectives (blue, red, black, beautiful, white) to describe the Korean flag. Then I asked my students to explain the meaning of the black lines that lie in the corners of the flag. In one class, not a single student could explain the lines. My casual curiosity led to more serious research. Partnering with a Korean professor of history, we found that an overwhelming majority of students, even when asked in Korean, couldn’t explain that aspect of their national flag.

The national flag of the Republic of Korea

I shared my observations with colleagues. The protestations of skeptics were loud and numerous, ranging from “No kids anywhere know the details of their native flags,” to “So what?” Other individuals, however, are far less sanguine. What with the pressure to learn math, science and English, Korean society has relegated their history to the dung heap. Like the old buildings in Singapore, Korea’s past has been swept away by the bulldozers of “progress.”

Korean students studying history in the "old days" (photo courtesy of Koreabridges.net)

Recently a number of concerned Korean leaders have taken a stand. South Korean President Park Geun-hye, putting the weight of her office behind the issue said, “The history of a country is like the soul of the people.” President Park and her administration want to return Korean history to the list of required subjects students must study. Kim Tae Won, a professor of history at Seoul National University, also weighed in on the issue. He noted that students, in general, lack knowledge of Korean history due to the current design of school curricula.

A recent editorial in The Korea Times declared “We can’t over-emphasize the importance of history education.” Further buttressing the issue, the Chosun Ilbo reported that a recent survey found that most Korean teens didn't know when the Korean War started (1950-1953). I find this troubling. Six decades ago the entire Korean peninsula lay in rubble. Nothing short of one of the world’s most amazing economic miracles brought South Korea back from the abyss to where it is today. That story and how it happened, starting with when the war began and why, should be emblazoned on every Korean student’s awareness.

Philosopher George Santayana famously noted, “Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it.” Alas, only one Korean institution of higher learning (and there are hundreds) requires applicants to take a Korean history test as part of the nationwide state administered test--Seoul National University.

I think the next time I do my adjective drill, I’ll throw in a little history lesson, just for good measure.

The Next Most Challenging Assignment

For many expats in the Daegu area, a fresh school year lies just around the corner. Expectations run high for both teachers and students. There are new schools, new relationships, new textbooks--new beginnings.

These days in Korea the competition is keen. Most students navigate their studies under the intense gaze of their parents. For better or worse, the sacred destination is the infamous national college entrance exam that seems to be in everyone’s crosshairs.

Just a snap of the fingers brings one back in time to the 1970’s when, if you were a Korean college student, odds were, you were amongst the first in your family to be attending a university.  Classrooms were often dark, dreary and cold places in winter. Lucky you were, if your classroom had some sort of heat—at best a single kerosene heater in the middle of the room.  Lighting too was rudimentary; often one or two light fixtures for an entire classroom.

 

Keimyung University students, then Keimyung Christian College, circa 1974

Even in Daegu, many students commuted to school, at least partially, along dirt roads--make that mud roads--during rainy weather. Today, those same roads are now paved and neatly lined with curbs and sidewalks. The university students of the 1970’s are themselves now grandparents of students embarking on Korea’s 3^rd generation of college students. These young students have inherited Korea’s educational legacy: harsh competition, long days of unrelenting study and near universal aspirations to work in one of Korea’s huge chaebols: Samsung, LG or Hyundai Motors.

Daegu high school students practice their English with KU student (1974)

In just several decades Korea has catapulted itself to the highest levels of educational attainment in the world. But the accomplishments have created dilemmas. There are 500,000 university graduates a year for only 100,000 of those highly coveted job openings. The incessant competition, for the best schools and the best jobs, has had its social costs. Korea now leads the world in categories it cannot possibly be proud of: suicides, unhappiness and alcohol consumption.

Today’s generation of Korean students have thus been given their most challenging assignment: finding solutions to these tough societal problems. Will the attainment of satisfaction and contentment be worthy goals for this next generation? And will the remarkable educational and industrial progress of the past be matched by equally impressive social accomplishments? Hopefully, these too, will be new beginnings for Korea.

Winter Vacation Paradise, From K to Z

Expats living and working in Korea have long made good use of their proximity to great winter vacation destinations in Asia, such as Thailand, India, the Philippines, and Indonesia, amongst others. Waiting at the end of a path less traveled, at least from Asia, sits a remarkable destination half-a-world away.

The very sound of its name seems to slide mellifluously off your tongue. Zihuatanejo (zee-what-tan-ey-ho), conjures up idyllic images of time and place like Xanadu or Atlantis--apparitions of a Zen-like land filled with palm trees, full-bodied native peoples, caressing breezes and azure waters lapping at your feet. Well, that pretty much describes the Place of Women, or as it’s more commonly known, Zihuatanejo.

We were searching for a different winter vacation destination, a welcome change from Korea's winter—one that would not break the bank. Recently, we were watching the popular 1994 movie, The Shawshank Redemption and the final scene when Red catches up with prison-escapee friend, Andy, who is rebuilding a boat on some glorious stretch of beach along the Pacific coast of Mexico. Yes, Zihuatanejo! Sign us up!

Mexico's Pacific coastline with the Bay of Zihuatanejo (bottom right)

Zihuatanejo served as a port for the first trip made by the Spanish colonists in 1527. It later became a commercial and cultural navigation route that served to unify the continents of America and Asia. Today, the city of 68,000 lies comfortably along a naturally protected horseshoe shaped bay of the same name. Four beaches, each with their own personality, stretch around the bay: Playa Principal, the most commercial of the four; Playa La Madera; Playa La Ropa, the longest and favorite of the tourists; and Playa Las Gatas, named after the cat shark that used to inhabit its waters.

 

Sunset over Zihuatanejo Bay

Truth be told, Zihuatanejo has been discovered. But unlike its busier cousin, Ixtapa, located about 3 miles north, it’s far less commercial, quieter and marches to the beat of a different drum. The pulse of Zihuatanejo emanates from its downtown area whose streets lie just off the city pier at La Playa Principal.  Evenings you’ll find the area abuzz, its restaurants, commercial shops and ice-cream stalls, attracting a fascinating mix of locals and expats.

Local shops and vendors along Cinco de Mayo Street

Naturally, restaurants here serve up delicious and tantalizing Mexican fare. The guacamole, tamales and traditional soup, Pozole, alone make the trip here worthwhile. But they are just the beginning. Zihuatanejo is still a town proud of its fishing heritage. Fresh tuna, octopus and its trademark dish, red snapper, are served up daily. These delicious dishes may partially explain all the smiling faces along the bay most afternoons and evenings. More on that in un minuto por favor.

Food enchantment: fresh guacamole, chips, salsa, beer and margaritas on the beach

Aside from amazing food, and the warm-hearted, incessantly smiling locals, Zihuatanejo is, of course, known for its amazing beaches, especially Playa La Ropa. Coconut palm trees line the nearly ¾ mile stretch of fine white sand. With a consistent year-round daytime air temperature of about 90˚, and water temps hovering near 80˚, there’s simply nothing to complain about.

Azure seas lapping the shores of Playa La Ropa

The Mexican culture, it seems, prides itself on striking a balance between work and relaxation. Mexico ranks 22^nd on the Global Finance Happiness Scale, on the heels of Chile, Thailand and Brazil. Korea, by way of comparison, ranks 63^rd. Mexicans know how to relax and for most of us, relaxation is why we’re here. It’s that mellow spirit and understanding that if things don’t get done today, well, there’s always mañana (tomorrow). That life philosophy lies behind the smiles one sees on faces everywhere in Zihuatanejo. 

 A vendor selling native bags on Playa de Ropa. Smiles are free.

For those working in Korea who hail from North America or Europe, adding a vacation stop in Zihuatanejo may be easier than you think. Flights can easily be arranged through many cities in Canada and the U.S. For others, the chance to experience this unique, still unspoiled paradise, is well worth the trip. Hotels range from $40/night and up. Great deals can be had on condo rentals--usually the longer the stay--the better the deal.

Zihuatanejo has somehow escaped the tourist hordes over the years. Come, relax, and let its magic seduce you.

---------------

Steve Schuit, is an Associate Professor of English at Yeungnam University. He has written for the Daegu Compass and the Daegu Platform. He blogs on his expat experiences at http://Korean Bookends.blogpsot.com/

[Note: this post was originally written for the Daegu Compass Magazine]

Countryside (시골)

Ah, the sweet countryside beckons.  Its villages and meandering lanes humbly escort us to the past.  If we listen to its whispers, we may also hear stories about our future.  Not surprisingly, Daegu’s countryside has melted in all directions. Once, the walls of Dalsung Park marked the city’s edge. Yeungnam University, built in the countryside in 1947, once a long, tedious bus ride east from the city center, is now just another Daegu subway stop.

Yesterday's countryside: thatched roofs, mud walls, and clear streams

In the 1960’s and 70’s, developing the countryside was a key strategy of then president, Park Chung-hee. His New Village Movement (새마을운동) spread the values of diligence, self-help and cooperation. It was intended to establish an entrepreneurial spirit in Korea’s rural communities.

The countryside still calls those few who listen

Thatched roofs, mud walls, clear streams, and the hard calloused hands of the Korean farmers, have given way to paved roads and the faster pace of a wireless world. Between cities and the ribbons of highways that wrap this peninsula ever so tightly, one may still find the Korean countryside of days gone by.  The old white crane, standing with dignity in the distant rice field, knows the secrets of Korea’s past.  The romantic lure of the countryside still calls those few who will listen.

*Note: this post was originally written for Platform Daegu, the city's new on-line magazine