Korea

Last week I went to Korea with two of the other teachers. We spent five days in Seoul sightseeing, eating Korean food, and visiting two of my college friends who are from Seoul. They were excellent tour guides, teaching us about Korea, introducing good food, answering our endless questions, and giving lots of ideas of things to see and do.

Incheon Airport, where we landed, is on the west coast of the country. Beautiful sandy islands and the border with North Korea were visible from the plane window, and after circling a couple times we landed. We took a bus into the city, less than an hour away, and then with the help of some police officers found the bed and breakfast where we were staying. It was  right downtown: a bit of the royal palace was visible from my window, and the Blue House, where the president lives, was just up the hill. There have been some protests related to the military lately, so police were everywhere in the area. They were there more for deterrence than in response to an imminent threat, but it was still a bit strange wheeling my suitcase down the middle of a formation of officers with riot shields.

The next few days were full: the aquarium, the palace, walks through various neighborhoods, a boat ride on the river at night, museums. On Sunday we went to an English church service where most of the people were Korean-Americans or foreigners living in Seoul, and then we went to a huge Korean-language church.

Perhaps my favorite part of the trip was Monday, when I went with one of my friends, her dad, and some of their friends to a national park. We drove for two or three hours to the east side of the country--South Korea is half the size of Nebraska--hiked through paths full of trees and waterfalls, and then continued on to the sea. After watching fifteen-foot waves roll and crash under a full moon, we went to a fish market. We picked out live fish and other sea critters to eat, and then we ate them raw after the lady cut them up on the spot. In case anyone is wondering, sea squirts do squirt water when you pull them to the surface, and they taste sort of like rubber and ammonia.

While there are a lot of similarities between Japan and Korea, the two countries have a very different feel to them. Though still compact compared to America, Korea is much more open and spacious than Japan. People seem to be more straightforward and willing to speak their minds. Fashion appears to be more important in Japan; there were far fewer suits and dresses in Korea from what I saw, and more people going out in jeans or shorts compared to the always impeccable Japanese. Still, I've  been in Japan for just nine months and spent only five days in Korea, so these are all just first impressions.

 

Pint-sized sea monsters in the aquarium.

Here's where we ate pig feet.

Temple

More of the temple

The waves were bigger than they look.

 

Like an aquarium, except that you eat the exhibits.

 

Sea cucumber on the left, sea squirt on the right.

 

Flounder on the left, mystery fish on the right.

Myeongdong: similar to Shibuya or Shinjuku in Tokyo, but not as crowded, even when it got late.

Grilling time.

Myeongdong Cathedral, built in the 1890s.



Once we left, the Pope came. We're a hard act to follow, but I hear he did alright.

The Han River at night.

 

Unintentional, but cool. The big green and blue one is Seoul Tower.

I think this was a café. Who are you?

Outside Gyeongbokgung Palace

Inside the palace

More in the palace

 

Sakura

This spring was my first cherry blossom season in Japan. They come out slowly at first: you can see the buds, then the occasional heraldic blossom peeks out on its branch until you wake up each morning to find the trees markedly fuller than the day before. Even without leaves or blossoms, the trees are beautiful with a sort of delicate jaggedness, but then they detonate into hundreds of tiny pink and white masterpieces. Families, friends, and coworkers picnic under the trees wherever they can be found, couples rove through the parks and streets, and children play under the flowers that will forever color their memory of spring. Then the petals begin to flutter down, covering cars, covering streets, blowing away, graceful in their exit as in their entrance. That they fade so fast is part of their beauty.

"There is an activity of God displayed throughout creation...some are reminders, and others prophecies."
-C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock

九州ルーテル学院

Luther Gakuin is located on a hill and tucked into a neighborhood twenty minutes or so by foot from downtown Kumamoto. Like many things in Japan, it has a feeling both of history and hypermodernity to it, being built in 1926 from decadeless dark gray concrete. The school’s calendar is punctuated by numerous commemorations and rituals, which add substance to the intangible feeling of tradition around the place. Students wear uniforms and the male teachers wear either suits or sweaters over collared shirts: the garb of academic Inkling coziness. Only the classrooms are heated and the doors to the outside are often left open, so the hallways feel more like covered walkways than parts of the building. Students have most of their classes in the same room all day, with teachers going to the students’ homerooms to teach. The teachers’ office is sacred ground, so students must ask permission in their politest Japanese before entering. Japanese teachers, like seemingly all Japanese workers, are incredibly professional, and while many of them have fun and joke with their students at times, there is always a respectful distance. Equally hallowed is the staff lounge, where these ultra-professional men and women can be seen chatting, lunching, reading newspapers, and even relaxing so far as to slouch slightly in their chairs or cross their legs. A corner of the lounge is walled off to quarantine smokers, and a small fan lazily pushes the hazy air outside. I’ve been eating lunch in the lounge for the past couple of weeks, and it’s been the best way to get to know the other teachers. They get to talk with the new foreigner, I get to practice Japanese, we all get to know each other better, and everyone wins.


Until the new semester begins in April I only teach two classes: first year presentation English and second year debate English. Students at Luther can choose one of five tracks to study: the general course, the math and science course, the sports course, the arts course, or the English course. Students in every course have to take all subjects, but if they have a specialization they take more classes or specialized classes to fit their focus. In addition to classes, there is chapel every morning and a homeroom chapel service every afternoon. Although it’s a Christian school, most of the students and staff are not Christians. I’m hoping that I’ll get to know some of them well enough (and learn enough Japanese) to ask what it’s like doing all of those Christian things each day. Is it just another mindless task to check off the schedule? Is it bothersome, enjoyable, interesting, repulsive? Is God working through it, or in spite of it?

"Then Melchizedek king of Salem brought out bread and wine. He was priest of God Most High." Genesis 14:18

Maybe in two and a half years I won't be able to tell you. Or maybe I will. In the meantime, keep feeding the koi. They've probably gotten hungry since the last post.

Luther Gakuin from the front.

Luther Gakuin from the back, including the tree of knowledge.

The view outside my back window. Yes, there is usually a cat there.

Maybe if teaching doesn't work out I can get this guy's job.

Looking down from the top of the castle.

Nagasaki Prefecture is across the water.

Tokyo

How can anyone describe Tokyo? It's a 3-D city, expanding endlessly not only to x and y, but also up and down. Obviously every city has its skyscrapers, elevated trains, bridges, skywalks, tunnels, and subways, but the way that Tokyo flows makes it different. In most cities, you stay on the base floor unless you are going into a specific mall, office building, or apartment. In Tokyo, it all runs together in a vertical spaghetti that takes you hundreds of feet above and below ground in the course of a single commute. A whole building is rarely owned by just one company, and it seems that every place has shops and restaurants built into random niches on various floors.

And those niches. It's amazing how many seats you can fit into a tiny restaurant, how many tiny restaurants you can fit into a tiny hallway, how many tiny hallways can branch out of a main corridor, and how many corridors can camber, swerve, and loop through ground and sky. Tokyo has borders, but within those borders, it is endless.

Tokyo has a static mold of streets and buildings, but the people--all 37 million of them--are just as much a part of the city's landscape. Obviously they are all individuals with human dignity, but when there are people constantly surging into and out of trains, flowing down streets, issuing from hidden doors, charging like armies across crosswalks, and vanishing into staircases, all without the slightest word or glance to one another, you can't help but feel that in a way, the people are part of the city's terrain. It's not just that there are so many: it's the way they don't look at each other or say anything, even when someone bumps into them or is clearly in their way. That said, people are nevertheless very courteous, and even though traversing the busiest crosswalks does feel akin to a bayonet charge, you don't have to worry about being knocked down or pushed out of the way. The urgency in Tokyo is relentless, but peaceful.

For the past five days, when we haven't been meeting people with JELA and JELC, attending orientations, or going to Japanese class, Jenny and I have been going all over the city with Paul, exploring different neighborhoods, setting up bank accounts and cell phones, and eating Japanese food. My favorite so far has definitely been the okonomiyaki. Today we met with the executive director of the Japanese Evangelical Lutheran Church, who gave us a presentation on the church in Japan and gave us a chance to ask him questions. Christians make up less than 1% of the population of Japan, and the church's population is aging quickly with very few young people coming in. The number of deaths in the church is now equal to the number of baptisms, and the trend is towards further decline. Please pray that the Holy Spirit would be drawing people to Christ in Japan, bringing the whole country into the freedom and joy of following him. The quote below is something I read on the train this morning. It's something that I hope the people of Japan and everywhere, myself included, can come to realize deeply:

"When scripture speaks of discipleship to Jesus, it proclaims this as the liberation of mankind from all human statutes, from everything that oppresses or wounds, everything that causes worry and agony of conscience. Through discipleship people come out of the hard yoke of their own law and into the soft yoke of Jesus Christ." 
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Nachfolge, 1937.

My street at night

Sushi! Of course eating it makes you smile!

The view from my room