Korea, Spammed

Spam: we all know it and we all hate it, that useless junk mail clogging our inboxes. Have you, though, ever thought about where the word 'spam' comes from? Interestingly enough, the name actually comes from that 1970 Monty Python skit SPAM. Do you remember the spam song? I have clear memories of my cousins singing this annoying song over and over again “SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, lovely SPAM!  Wonderful SPAM!”, in the play, this song was drowning out other conversation in the pub, thus 'spamming' the conversation. And voila, the word spam enters the electronic world, unwelcomed. Thanks for a great word, nerds.

Korea had themselves an unexpected introduction to the world of spam. This time, though, the spam I'm referring to is not the electronic spam, but the canned meat Spam. The stuff you see in a grocery store and wonder 'how does that stuff pass food and safety regulations?' The stuff you've watched someone eat an entire can of, on a dare of course, and then you were genuinely concerned for their health. Yes, that spam. Spam is so popular in South Korea that is actually a very respected hostess gift to both give and receive. On Valentines Day one can even find heart shaped boxes full of spam.

 But how did this American made, shameful meat become so popular in such an untouched foreign culture? Well during the Korean War where food was scarce and meat was rare, Koreans often turned to the food rations left over by the American Army. Because spam had such a long shelf life, it was ofter sent to troops overseas and became a popular food on base. Despite it being commonly found on base, the Americans still could rarely stomach the stuff and it was often leftover. At the time, food was so scarce in Korea, that the Koreans couldn't be as picky as the soldiers for their proteins and took their rations of spam, mixed it with their own recipes to create a few surprisingly palatable outcomes. Here are two spammed foods that are actually worth a try:

Gimbap: Literally meaning 'seaweed rice', gimbap is the Korean version of sushi. It is a handroll made with seaweed, rice, veggies, and, you guessed it, spam! It is especially yummy with tuna. Gimbap shops are amongst the most common in Korea and you can find a roll for around $2.50 at almost any street corner.

Budae Jjigae: literally meaning 'army stew', this is a soup that perfectly symbolizes the mix of Korean tradition with the effects of scarce means and desperate measures. This soup mixes hot dogs, sausages and of course, spam with the traditional Korean tastes of red chili paste and kimchi. Yummy! This is often eaten with rice. It is easily found at most places where Jjigae is bought for about $5.

Due do it's popularity, Spam apparently tastes better in Korea than in other counties worldwide, as it is apparently made with better ingredients, although this is a taste test I don't plan on trying any time soon. I can though, now cross 'eat spam and enjoy it' off the ol' bucket list. 

With Eyes Wide Open

As I navigate myself through Seoul's populated streets, I find myself continuously wrongly recognizing Koreans as someone I know, or worse, seeing someone I know and not recognizing them. I am sure this does not come as a surprise, as the 'they all look the same' effect is a well known joke made about people from different races. Thankfully, I don't have to fully blame myself for this blatant racism, but I can actually blame this mistake on my brain. What is called the Other Race Effect is a well documented effect that proves that our brains, which have extremely efficient biological skill in recognizing faces, actually does a much poorer job of recognizing faces of another race, or at least of a race that, through experience, we have not learned to distinguish as well.

The outcome of this effect on its own makes living in Seoul, with a population of over 11 million people, confusing. The features I rely on to distinguish one face from another is different then what I am used to, and I often find myself lost in a big giant sea of my own racism. But this confusion is burrowed deeper than just the basis of my experiences. Seoul has the highest population of facial reconstruction surgery in the world: where one in five woman has had surgery. Most commonly among women is the double eyelid surgery, a surgery to make woman's eyes larger and more circular. This surgery is so popular, that I assume most of the woman I meet here have had it done. It is often bought as a gift for high school graduates and some parents even force their children into it, knowing their chances of success will be higher if they are more beautiful.

Like Westerners, nose jobs are another popular surgery amongst Koreans, but, unlike the Western craze to have your nose made smaller, Koreans actually aspire to have a bigger, longer nose to make their features more distinctive. Lasly, Koreans aspire to have smaller, more V-shaped faces, and recently, an even more extreme surgery has been growing in popularity. Both men and woman have been going under the knife to get what is called a double jaw surgery: a surgery that chizzles away your jaw bone and leaves with a long and painful recovery, and ultimately, a beautifully small face.

Smartphones apps have even kept up with this plastic surgery craze. You can download apps where you enter a picture of yourself, see how much better you can look with just a few snips and cuts, find out how much it will cost, and book it. It's that easy, right?!

The Travel Bug

We've all heard of the term 'the travel bug' and if your anything like me, the travel bug has consumed the greater part of your early 20s. The travel bug has lead me parts of the world I never imagined I'd be, smelling, seeing, feeling and exploring experiences that most people could only dream of doing. The travel bug is usually used in a comical and positive intonation, leading those who use it to make fun of their (some would say irresponsible) decision to once again give up family, friends, and homely comforts for an exploration of the unknown. Up until recently, this has been the only travel bug I'd known. Up until recently I was in love with the travel bug, up until recently, I hadn't come across an evil travel bug: this travel bug was more consuming, and more annoying than any I had experienced before. This travel bug's name was scabies.

To break down scabies into one simple word, it is referred to as 'The Itch'. Why? Well, simply because it is one of the itchiest skin infections around. It is extremely contagious, extremely annoying and of course, extremely itchy. I have no idea how I contracted it, because scabies can live on it's hosts body for up to a month before showing any signs, but my efforts to get rid of scabies has forced me to witness the much less positive side of travelling: foreign health care. From a huge language barrier, to sketchy prescriptions, to obscene diagnosis, my experience with the Korean health care system has been sub par, to say the least. But thankfully, I have been treated and if all goes well, the itch will disappear. It is sadly, though, a long and torturous waiting game that can take up to a month before I'm back to my normal, itchless self, and let me tell you, this itch is one that I cannot wait to get scratched.

From the Eye of the Storm

Last Saturday afternoon was a gloomy, rainy one and, as one would do on such afternoons, I was sitting on my friends couch watching some brainless comedy. Suddenly, we heard a siren coming from outside. I looked at her, she looked at me, and we shared a confirming glance:  this siren did not sound normal. In an adrenaline filled Google search (yes, a Google search. What would you have done?), a peak out the window, and a mass text, we realized that there was no cause for concern and we had simply overreacted to a police siren. Funny? yes. Eye opening? Definitely. This was the first time I realized that this was a situation that I was taking seriously.

Though, false alarms aside, the only reason I am feeling anxious about the rising tensions in my newly claimed home is from the sensationalized news. Walking through the streets of Seoul, South Korea, an easy 6 hour drive to North Korea, and of course the North's main target, you would have no idea that a war, let alone a nuclear war, was feasible to arise at any moment. South Koreans are going about their daily lives, making plans for tomorrow, next week, next month and next year as if nothing was happening. We haven't spoken about it to our students nor even brought up the idea of practising an evacuation plan should anything happen. People are happy, parties are still being planned and a unconcerned attitude remains throughout the flow of daily life. This, to me all seem pretty shocking. If Canada was being threatened with an imminent nuclear war, you'd think at least, our schools would plan a 'what if' scenario. A threat this huge and hardly anybody has even blinked. Why? Well frankly, nobody here takes North Korea seriously. These threats have been happening every spring, each year for the past 60 years, while basically nothing comes of them. Some think the threats are fuelled by Kim Jong un wanting to establish power within his own country. Some say he wants more money and resources for the North. We've heard it all before, and so far, these theories have been correct. I, personally, don't quite know what to think of it all, but for now, I still feel safe. North Korea's threats have become an undeniable case of the boy who cried wolf. Lets just hope this one has a happier ending.

Why is This Night Different from All Other Nights?

There are some things that you don't realize how much you appreciate until you go somewhere completely foreign, and stumble upon that comforting feeling of 'home'. You may not be home at all. You may still be far, far away. This feeling came to me for the first time in my 3.5 weeks of being in Korea, on the eve of Passover, at the Chabad of Korea.

The Chabad of Korea

As I walked into a room filled with over 70 strange, smiling faces, wishing each other a 'Chag Samearch', I felt almost as comfortable as walking into my Bubby's living room. The worldliness of the evening's guests should not come as a shocker, as most Jews in Korea come from somewhere else: America, France, Israel, and so much more. We were of different ages, of different races, and all in Korea for different reasons, all brought together under one roof. All brought together solely because we are Jewish. And despite the vast differences that spanned the room, the evening was filled with such connection, as strangers sat together, singing the same songs, having memorized the verses, all knowing the same tunes. Complaining together about the length of the evening and all equally accepting of each others devotion, or non-devotion, to the religion.

As the rabbi worded quite well, It is not the matzoh that makes a seder, it is not the wine (although, that doesn't hurt), it is the people who, despite their differing lives, are brought together not just at the Chabad of Korea, but around the world to celebrate a chag samearch: a happy holiday. This 6 hour long night filled with everything from the rabbi's lengthy speech, to the overdrawn Dayenu, to the mediocre gefilte fish and the nasally whines of those around me, brought such a feeling of comfort, and reminded me that Judaism really is special, and I am really lucky to be a part of it.

Chag Samearch!

What's in an Age?

Age: We have measured ourselves in age literally, since the day we we born. Our parents based landmarks on it. We celebrated our coming of ages in many different ways, from Bar Mitzvahs, Sweet 16s, learning to drive, drinking legally, and so much more. This was a number that, up until this trip, I assumed was simply universal. Well, my friends, I thought wrong. Here in Korea, age is measured differently. I, for example jumped from the easy and simple age of 24 right into the ripe old age of 26 as quickly as a 12 hour flight (talk about a quarter-life crisis!).

Now you're probably thinking "Huh?! This doesn't make sense? The earth doesn't rotate around the sun any faster in Asia...Or at least I didn't think it did..." Well, don't worry, you are not crazy. I will explain how this age thing works.

 Firstly, everyone pops out of the womb at the age of 1. Why waste any time counting those measly months?!

Secondly, although individual birthdays are recognized, nobody actually changes age until the lunar New Year where everyone changes age at the same time.

 Make sense?

Well it's true and it's crazy. This means that, layered on top of the ridiculous expectations schools in Korea are putting on their young children to learn, these young kids are in fact 2 years younger than my Western brain thought. So, the 6 and 7 year olds that I have been teaching are actually 5 and 6? My brain is about to explode.

On top of this, age is a really important defining factor in Korea, and the term 'respecting one's elders' is an understatement. There are seats in every subway car designated for elders and this is taken extremely seriously. You could be in the most packed subway ever, hardly breathing, while that section remained empty, just in case an Ahjumma (Korean older woman) strolled on in.

This has an interesting affect in the workplace, where younger employees will not criticize an employer even if their work and ideas are horrible. A story floats around that there was once a Korean Air flight that was in trouble, and, although the younger co-pilot knew how to solve the issue, out of respect for his older pilot, didn't speak up, and the plane crashed. Now they only hire co-pilots who are older than their pilots.

This age thing isn't all weird and bad though. It also makes for very strong family bonds, creates respect for elders in one's life like your teachers (me!), and people who hold authority. It even helps limits the country's crime rate.

...But age is just a number...Right?