Korean Contours: Circling Back, Shaping The Future

"Believe in the holy contour of life."

Jack Kerouac 

The contours of Korea have carried me across and beyond four decades. Like the twin loops of a figure eight, I have twice come full circle in Korea. At the time of my arrival in November of 1973, Gerald Ford was being voted in by the U.S. Senate to replace Richard Nixon. That month the headlines were featuring the infamous Watergate Scandal. As I prepared to depart Korea in 2017 completing another cycle there, Korea was reeling from its own presidential scandal.

The Korea of 1973 was a developing country, with a per capita income equal to that of the country that shares its peninsula, North Korea. Today, Korea's economy is the 13th strongest in the world, ranked between Australia and Spain, and ahead of The Netherlands (17), Turkey (18), and Saudi Arabia (19). As an observer, it is hard to believe how significantly this country has transformed itself in such a relatively short period of time.

I have attempted to capture reflections of these changes in both words and pictures in my more than ninety posts here on the Korean Bookends blog. But headlines and statistics aside, the contours of Korea will remain with me forever. 

An old woman leans on a piece of styrofoam to make
her way in downtown Daegu 

A Seoul sculpture reflects the youthful "hurry-hurry" culture of modern Korea

Red peppers drying in the September sun

Hand-made steamed buns offered up in an old shop in Seoul

The shapes of things to come: a new mall in southeastern Seoul

Daegu East Station makes room for the city's newest mall

New arts complex in Seoul

"I'm Korean:" Young Seoul artist leaves his imprint

Wooden stairs at Yeungnam University in Gyeongsan

Recently, I've made plans to return to Korea to complete yet another circle. I will be joining a group of former volunteers 
-teachers and health professionals-folks, who decades ago came to work with, and assist, Korean citizens. In rediscovering the past, we often sharpen our sense of the present and the future. In doing so, writer Jack Kerouac noted, perhaps we can find the holy contours of life.

The Long Road Back to Korea

It's gotten to the point where there are way too many "formers" on my Facebook bio: former associate professor, former consultant, former facilitator at a conflict-resolution camp. One "former," in that long parade, was an early one, my stint as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Korea.

Recently, I was reminiscing about the feelings I had more than four decades ago as I was preparing to depart the U.S. and head to Korea for the very first time. I didn't have much to go on. I had a sense it was far away from everything I knew growing up in the suburbs of New York City. But I knew nothing about the food, the culture, its history, only a few general things about a war we had fought there in the early 1950s.

Once again, I'm getting ready to go to Korea. In a few months I hope to return and I'm awash in feelings of excitement and reminiscence. This time, I have a million hooks to hang my emotions onto. I can picture the many places I yearn to return to in Seoul, Daegu and Gyeungsan, the latter two, locations where I taught English to Korean college students. I recall the smells that wafted along side alleys, redolent in garlic, kimchi and silkworms steaming in the pots of street vendors. The vague, implausible excitement of my youth is far different from the impatience of returning home to a familiar place.

One of my university students rests his hands on my shoulder, as
we pose with high school students in their uniforms (Spring, 1974)

Korea has filled seven years of my life to the brim. I did my first real teaching there in a heatless classroom with poor lighting, filled with students hungry to improve their English. Living in Korea I delved into my earliest understanding of another culture, one with 5,000 years of history behind it. Here I was, a naive 22-year old recent college graduate, replete with my American history major, then only a 200-year old story. Yet, due to my role as a college instructor, I was the beneficiary of almost automatic respect.

Korean village (1974)

Korea is no longer the country of dirt roads and meandering village lanes that I once explored. Its old-school tea rooms of a past era have morphed into Starbucks and popular Korean coffee shop chains. Today, Korea has the eleventh strongest economy in the world--this from a country that is the size of the U.S. state of Indiana. Korea's Internet is the world's fastest. Its literacy rate is at 98%. Korea, a country with few natural resources, other than its remarkable people, has leveraged generations of hard work, and a near unified vision of middle-class success, to become the Korea that exports its cultural, industrial and high-tech proficiencies throughout the world.

Daegu's monorail, launched in 2015, combines Korea's transportation
and high-tech prowess. The driver-less system slices through the
heart of the city connecting riders with the three older subway lines.

Koreans rarely, if ever, forget a good deed. The Korean government, in a singular show of appreciation, graciously hosts former Peace Corps Volunteers who served there. I plan to return to Korea in October for a reunion program in Seoul, and the chance to visit the campuses where I once taught English. I gaze ahead with excitement and the humbling realization that the very road that leads me to Korea circles back to where my wanderlust first took hold.

With a Yeungnam University student, Gyeongsan, Korea (2014)