Growing up in Wisconsin, two things have become so familiar
they seem almost inherent: church basement potlucks and polite friendliness. People all
over the United States talk about “Midwest Nice” in that we lend a hand to
friends and strangers alike in any situation at any given time.
I only say this because I want you to grasp my full meaning
when I say that Korea offers me unprecedented kindness over and over again.
Whilst here, I have picked up several hobbies, ultimate frisbee being the most prominent.
This community of people is such an incredible compilation of hospitality,
competition, spirit, and overall excellent human beings. It also fueled my
passion for something while I was in need of finding a purpose last autumn.
But, mostly it gave me the freedom to enjoy myself and other while playing a
sport—to play for the love of the game as opposed to winning a title,
championship, or record.
I took this newfound passion with me while my father came to
visit. He and I dabbled a bit in tossing the disc on the beach. We waded up to
our kneecaps (the deepest that Korean lifeguards allow people to swim in the
ocean) and started to throw the disc to each other and my friend who joined us
for the hike and swim. Out of nowhere, an ajeossi (uncle) clad in a wet
suit and a full body life jacket caught the disc and threw it back to us. And,
then there were four. So, we kept tossing back and forth, the ajeossi making gratuitous
leaps into the ocean and coming up with a giant grin and clutching the disc. As
we continued throwing, two little girls came closer to us to play. Another
ajeossi lingered near the edge until I threw the disc to him and he greedily accepted
it and joined our circle. We grew to such a number that I went to get my second
disc.
By the end, we had two ajeossis, two little girls, three
medium sized boys, a mother of one of the boys, and a couple around my age.
Throughout this entire endeavor, I kept looking at this motley crew of
humanity, and anticipation, joy, and excitement lit every face. We cobbled
together conversations knowing that in this one fleeting moment, we felt the
same emotions regardless of age, gender, or race. Afterward, my father asked me
if I knew any of those people. I said, “No, but that was one of those Korea
moments that encapsulates everything I need at this exact moment, in this exact
place.”
It is in moments like this when I remember exactly how small
my existence really is. I have been granted these 25 years, really just a blip
on the time/space continuum. This was merely one hour in one day, in one year,
in one decade, in one century. This did not change the course of history. This
did not make earth shattering discoveries. But, it did create a community—however
small, however strange—for a moment in time. People came together from all
walks of life to have this shared experience. And, this is what I love about
Korea. “Korea Nice” is joining in a game for the love of playing it. It is
ajummas (aunts) holding my hand on the subway because I was alone. It is my halmonie
(grandmother) downstairs who takes care of me when I need it. It is a community
of foreigners who love and accept you wholly and truly.
Korea has given me so many opportunities to explore who I
am. More importantly, it has opened up a host of phenomenal men and women who
consistently encourage me to grow and be better, regardless of how brief our
interaction. Parenthetically, it also has church basement potlucks, but they serve kimchijeon instead of green bean casserole. Sad panda.
