Life & Death

Day 135 - 06 July 2011

A Wednesday…

Today I witnessed the immediate aftermath of a young Korean boy getting hit and driven over by a hagwon van. I finished my teaching and started the walk down the alley towards the main street. I heard the screech of the wheels and the screaming of some older women. I looked up, and only 20 feet away from my afterschool center, was a stopped yellow van, sitting crookedly at the in-block intersection and the head and arm of little boy outstretched from the rest of his body which was under the front right wheel. Judging by his size and the kids that usually play around my work area, he was probably a early elementary school student.

I apologize if this is too graphic. I don't intend to insult readers, or the young boy and his family. But I started this blog to talk about my Korea adventure, my feelings and how I change; this definitely was a life changing moment. There wasn't much blood, but he wasn't moving and nobody was attempting to pull him out from underneath the car. I wanted to rush to him and do it myself, but I do remember in first aid class that should he be alive, moving the body is not a wise decision. What was more sad to me, than seeing his body, was seeing his mom rush to the seen and fall to the ground screaming and crying at the top of her lungs. I will pray for her and her loss. I can't stop picture the boy and his mom's outstretched arms and kicking legs.

The intersection itself is located in a local home-y block. There's no lights, just like the blocks within most suburban neighborhoods in America. You're just supposed to drive slow and assume every intersection has a stop sign, even if it doesn't. The local middle school, park, some family owned Walgreens-like shops, smaller and older apartments, and of course my teaching center all surround this main intersection. Every time I walk through it, there's little kids all over the place. They play, buy toys from the local toy/stationary shop, and eat ice cream. I should also note, there are no sidewalks, just like most of the inner-blocks of Seoul, so the roads are used to play in, walk, bike, and for cars to drive through. It's pretty chaotic, but at the same time the system never seemed to fail, until now.

I stayed on scene for a while, keeping back my students and ushering them back to the afterschool center. Most of them saw what I saw, but I don't think they processed it the same. They kept on about their day with happy smiles on their faces, and asked what all the commotion was about. For the time we decided not to tell them, and keep them from going home and passing the scene. When the EMTs arrived they consoled the mother and talked to the people in the van (who at that point had not exited the vehicle). They didn't rush to the body, but eventually pulled the boy out, laid him on a cot, and covered him with a blanket.

Ironically, this happens the day after I watched Knowing. For those who haven't seen it, it's a Nicholas Cage movie in which he has a list of dates and coordinates of every major catastrophe that had and will happen within a 50 year period. It was a pretty dark film, and I woke up in a strange mood, thinking about fate, life and the sequence of events that affect it. For 1 whole hour of free time, I sat at a desk in the center, telling myself I should have my time sheet signed by the head social worker right then, which would allow me to leave promptly at 4:30pm. But I decided to be lazy and sit there. At 4:30 I packed my stuff and had my sheet signed on the way out. Had I just saved those few seconds of getting my sheet signed earlier, I may have well been there when the van was passing. Being a taller and more visible body, perhaps the van would have slowed down. I don't want to be a proud savior, or some hero in the newspaper, it's just crazy to know had I just done one thing differently, I may have been there for things to happen in a different sequence.

I guess what I really want to get out of writing this, is to stress that life is precious. I know that now. Seeing sad events in movies can't compare to real life. You really don't realize how much of an impact death has until something like this happens. I also hope that people read this and drive more carefully! I've had my moments of reckless driving and I snuck by and never hurt anybody, but it didn’t work out that way today. Everybody be safe! No more unnecessary death.

Kung-Fu Panda 2

Monday - 30 May 2011

Day 98

I just saw Kung-Fu Panda 2 for the second time, and 2 things made this movie awesome.

First, I have to pay tribute to the amazingly delicious CGV popcorn. The half caramel-half cheese mix was a little reminiscent of Chicago style caramel corn. I felt like I was back on Michigan Ave, eating popcorn and watching tourist swarm the Bean (miss you Ken!).

Second, I really enjoyed the message about adoption in the film. If you've read my previous posts, I've talked about how Meet Joe Dirt is one of my favorite adoption-related movies; this film was similar. [Spoiler Alert] Distraught by the realization of his adoption, even though his dad is clearly a goose, Po wanders off to save the day and confront all his deep lying identity, adoption, and relinquishment issues. Just like hick-David Spade in Joe Dirt, he realizes that his true family were the people that were there in his life the whole time. There's a pretty moving scene where he has a sequence of flashbacks of all the experiences he had with his father and friends. I hope one day right before I go save the world, I get to have a flashback of all the past wonderful years with my family.

Now, I'm not sure why, but the ending did make me a little upset. After all the hilarious Jack Black mannerisms, and the kick-splosive (from my Kung-fu Panda t-shirt) action, Po finds his inner peace with all the adoption stuff and returns home. Right before the film cuts to credits, you find out his birth-father is still alive, setting up the third film. I was so happy that he had found his inner peace, that I'm really worried/agitated/sad and a whole other array of emotions, that he'll have to meet his birth-father. I suspect the film will go into loyalty issues between the fathers, and he'll have to make a decision on where he belongs, and all the other complicated stuff that really needs to be done tactfully. Perhaps it's my own adoption story subliminally affecting my judgment of this children's movie, but for whatever reason I kind of wish his birth parents were dead and out of the story.

Guess we'll just have to wait for Kung-Fu Panda 3.

Also, just wanted to site this blog from the Guardian.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2011/jun/13/kung-fu-panda-2-adoption-theme

Can't say I agree with a lot of what this guy says, although he poses his thoughts as questions, therefore not "officially" making a stance. Lame. Perhaps just another rash statement by Chris Graywolf, but I really don't like these non-adoptees writing about stuff like this. It reminds me of the profane, yet very educational episode of South Park regarding the n-word. Non-blacks shouldn't pretend like they know how it feels to be called that word.

Athletic Nationalism

Sunday - 08 May 2011

Day 76

I love soccer. All my life. I love American football too, but nothing compared to the greatness of soccer.

Ever since I began following the international game, all the different leagues around the world, along with the major international tournaments, I have always been jealous of Brasil. I guess you could add the big European powerhouses of Germany, Italy, Spain, and England…but still nothing close to Brasil. They are worldclass, and people fear them on the field. I'm sure fellow futebol fans will argue with me on this one, but I still think (over the course of all soccer's history) that Brasil is the best national team, and has produced the best exported players.

I was always sad that America didn't have anything like that when it came to the sports I followed. But after following some of the East Asian professional sports, I have seen American athletes in that same "Brasilian" light. Just walking around Seoul day to day, I see so many Yankees, Red Sox, White Sox, and Indians hats, jackets and shirts. There is more Yankees clothing here than Manchester United or any other European soccer club. When you watch Korean-League baseball or basketball, it is the few exported American players that are feared and respected. Just like the Brasilians of soccer, we have the aura of being top players.

There's not much more to say about this phenomenon, except that witnessing people's love and respect for American athletes has definitely made me more proud (and perhaps cocky) in being American. We still maybe be on the lower ranking when it comes to soccer, but at least we have basketball and baseball down (I don't count the sports that most of the world doesn't play).

America! F' YEAH!

Sorry for the long wait.

My apologies for the posting hiatus. I haven't posted in about a month, but I have been continuing to write. It'll all people up shortly.

Peace

Day 69 - Sunday - 01 May 2011

I have been in Korea for a little over 2 months now, and I can confidently say that I have fully adjusted to being a Seoul citizen. Although I haven't been keeping up with my studies, my ability to read, write, listen, and most importantly, speak Korean has improved greatly. All it took was dismissing any thought of embarrassment or nervousness, and simply giving it ago. Once you don't care that you might look or sound stupid, attempting to communicate as a foreigner isn't a big deal. Most people understand. I have also mastered the subway system, most of the main streets in my borough, riding/communicating in a taxi, and a little bit of the bus system. Life here isn't too bad, and I think after stay here in Seoul, I could survive living in NYC if I wanted to. But I don't. New York sucks.

I have talked with my family, friends, and employers and have decided to extend my 3 month contract to 5.5 months total. I will be here for an additional 3 months, which I am very excited about, but at the same time, I can't wait to get back to good ole US of A. I'm really happy about this feeling. In my earlier days here, I was worried that I would love/hate Korea too much, or miss/not appreciate American anymore. Loving my life here, and also missing home is a good situation to be in. I can enjoy the rest of my time here, and then peacefully return back to the States.

When I return to the US, I will be starting law school at the University of Oregon. Go Ducks! I know there are a million and one differing views on the existence/method/lack of fate and destiny in one's life, but whatever it is, I feel that everything that has conspired in my life for the last 7 years has happened for a reason. My switch in focus of my undergraduate studies from biology to "East Asian stuff" led to my involvement with Holt Camp and Holt Adoption Services, which led to my work with the Law Offices of Michelle M. Hughes & Bridge Communications, Inc. (I owe you Carmen!), which led to my interest in adoption law and attending law school, which finally built up to my yearning to come to Korea and see the Korean side of adoption and life. I feel that everything adoption related all started with Holt Adoptee Summer Camp, and it's comforting to know, and also curious when I think about the way things worked out, that the University of Oregon is in the same town as Holt HQ. It's where international adoption, as we know it today, started. Out of the 30 law schools I applied to, over the span of 2 years, some of which I was accepted, rejected, waitlisted, and given full rides to, Oregon fit perfectly with what was going on in my life.

With the worry about what I'll be doing when I return to America out of the way, I have found Zen. I can enjoy my last couple months here without any worries, except what color of bedsheets I want to buy for my dorm room. Blue of course!

To all those reading this: Cliché as always, but everything happens for a reason. All the good and bad sh*t that I have endured over the last 2 years, all the confusion of where my life was leading all led up to this point of happiness and peace. Life will always work itself out.

Mike L

I love Michael "Lohnzie" L. He's the coolest. He's easily in my top 5 male-friends. Ladies, please date him.

Flashsideways

Day 57 - 19 April 2011 - Tuesday

This was supposed to be the first post, which I intended to write 57 days ago, but I got lazy and there was so much other crazier stuff to write about. I would never say I'm a good writer, but I do take pride in saying I always could come up with good ideas. In fact I wish that could be my job, just coming up with the premises of movies. I'll be the think tank, then real writers can fill in the other 99% of the story.

By the time I reached early high school, I had already scribbled down a crap ton of ideas and short vignettes all revolving around soccer, adoption, and racism. And of course, I was typically the main character. Sadly, and to my regret that I didn't get rich, 2 of my best ideas have been taken. They were stolen, but I guess Hollywood was bound to think of the same ideas eventually. Regardless, I still feel like sharing them.

In middle school I wrote a story about a man on a plane (me). He was headed back to Korea for the first time since being adopted. He decided to do a crossword puzzle, and each question he answered and filled in, coincidentally correlated with a important and meaningful adoption/race related moment of his childhood. As he wrote each letter into the boxes, which would be closely zoomed-in on, flashbacks of his past would slowly being to overlap the screen. I thought that would look so cool. This idea ended up becoming Slumdog Millionaire. I'm sure I wasn't the first person to think of this idea either, but somewhere lost deep in my basement is a journal with this short story, written years before Slumdog, in my crappy handwriting.

The second story, was embodied in the final season of LOST. For those who are not familiar with this awesome television show, the directors utilized flashbacks, flashforwards, and flashsideways. Now in most of my stories, and just talking about adoption or anybody's life for that matter, you're going to find flashbacks and maybe flashforwards. The unique thing about this story was the flashsideways. In LOST, (SPOILER ALERT) flashsideways were used to show the period between the afterlife and life. All the characters were intertwined and had to re-meet one another to passover to the other side together. My story was going to be a little bit tweaked. I think there is a hypothetical, spiritual life for all adoptees. It doesn't exist, but maybe in thought it does...and that means it does exist. All adoptees have that "what if" life in their heads. What if I was not adopted? What if I was still in Korea? The main character (me of course) would be living his life in America, but when he looked into mirrors, we (the viewers) were transferred to flashsideways of the life that could have been in Korea. There would be moments when he would look up into the mirror and it would show a "Koreanized" version of him, and Korea behind him. The camera would do a 180 rotation from seeing through American-Chris's eyes to Korean-Chris's eyes. The two lives would mirror in some ways, and differ in others. You'd swtiched back and forth from the 2 lives and see what was and what could have been. And to make things a little sci-fi, unrealistic, spiritual, sometimes they would share deja-vu of each other's experiences and memories.

So Slumdog and LOST beat me to the punch, but I always intended to use these cool little cinematic setups in my writing, especially with this blog. So expect more flashbacks, flashforwards, and flashsideways all regarding my past experiences, my expectations and hopes for the future, and my thoughts on the life that could have been in Korea.

Birth Search Part III

Thursday - 14 April 2011 - Day 52

For the time being, I believe this will be the final chapter of my birth search story. I had my most recent meeting at the Holt post-adoption center 1 day ago. This story did start out with surprise and success, with the ease of the process and the fairly quick locating of my birth-family, but now it seems we have reached a standstill.

As told in my second update, my birth-mother and oldest half-sister were located living together in the relatively same region in the outskirts of Masan where I was born. 2 telegrams were sent, signed for, and received. My birth-family and I have discovered and acknowledged the existence of each other, but there is no desire on their side to take this any further and meet in person for the time being.

Although this may seem like a sad way for this part of my Korea journey to end, I couldn't be happier. My positivity and possibly lack-of-care has carried me through. I feel complete and am happy that I know they are alive and well, albeit super-poor. They know I am alive and well and contact information was given to them, so the door is always open for a later reunion (which I don't yet know if I would even agree to). Who knows what the future holds, but I do believe everything that needs to be, will be.

------

As important and meaningful as this event should seem, there have been more important thoughts circling my head. These days I am consumed with thoughts and attempts to understand relinquishment rather than adoption and reunions.

I recently went to help out at Holt's Reception Center. It is a single floor of the same building that I work out of, and at the time, it was taking care of 11 orphans, all under 1 year old. It was a vey moving morning, possibly more moving that meeting my own birth parents. Certain things just fill my brain with experience and insight that I will never forget.

As I sat on the group, holding a 5 month old girl in my lap, rocking her to stay calm, not cry and fall asleep, I stared into her eyes are asked myself how anybody could abandon a baby. This wasn't even my child, and I didn't want to set her down for a second. It blew my mind. I had what I have come to refer as a moment of "Columbine shooting" realization.

After the Columbine shooting took place, I was in the movie theater watching Bowling for Columbine and jolly ole Michael Moore was showing real life clips of the young boys before the shooting. They were sitting at the lunch table talking about how much school sucked and how everybody hated them. Now I'm not here condoning shooting up schools, but at that moment I did feel sympathy for them. I thought to myself, "how much undeserved ridicule, teasing, and persecution would it take for me to reach the point of shooting up a school?" Really, please process that for a second. You think you're a good person now who would never even hurt another human being, now think about how much making-fun-of it would take to get you to lash out on your peers? How many people would have to call you ugly, or a loser, or a racial slur? Every single day of your academic life. It would take a lot, and those boys got it. They were laughed at everyday of their lives.

Anyways…back to the adoption center. I thought about that little girl, Yuna. How bad did life have to be for our birth-parents to relinquish us? Pretty bad. By realizing how precious a baby is, and how much I did not want to set her down for a moment, I came to understand how bad our birth families' lives and situations must have been. I have been told from my file that my birth-family suffered from extreme poverty. Most of the family members couldn't afford and didn't have time for anything past a elementary school education. So they were off to the factory floor and crop fields right away. But feeling in my heart how much I loved Yuna, and all the other babies, at that moment, I think I inversely experienced the extreme poverty my birth-family faced. The love for me was out balanced by the terrible living situations, and I now know it would take A LOT to relinquish a child. I hope people can understand this.

I am at peace with everything.

Relinquishment and adoption.

Thank you Korea.

Thank you Yuna.

Sneezes & Smelly Socks

Day 44 - Wednesday - 06 April 2011

I woke up this morning at 7:30am to the sound of my host brother puking his recently eaten ramen onto the living room floor. I've been sleeping in lately and skipping yoga because of a stiff bruised ankle. I thought now would be a good time to post about Korean etiquette and hygiene.

I'm not here to insult Korean people, their way is their way, and simply different than what I grew up with. They're not dirty people, and in many ways, cleaner than the average American. Keep in mind too, I live in a household with a young 12 year old boy, and I work at afterschool programs for lower-income, not well-off elementary school kids.

The first obvious thing I noticed, right away on my journeys through the streets and time on the subway, is that people don't say "excuse me" or "bless you" after sneezing, coughing, or farting; nor do they try to cover it up. Out of habit and tradition to my futbol times in America, I am accustomed to saying "salud" after hearing somebody sneeze. The Koreans look at me funny. Most of the time people just sneeze, cough or fart and pretend like it didn't happen. There's no reaction from the person who did it, the people around, and overall, it's just not as comical as it would be in America. For some reason, we love to laugh at regular bodily functions. One of the loudest and biggest laughfests I had in highschool was when the school librarian farted, and tried to cover it up with a cough. 3 tables of fellow students were trying to hold in our laughs.

Second, as I mentioned before, people don't try to cover up their coughs, sneezes, or farts. I have been coughed on, sneezed on, and sadly, farted on, by both people close to me and complete strangers out in public. Also, quite a few people have spit on me while they're talking. I try to back away from people who are having coughing or sneezing fits, and I don't get to upset. In the end there's a billion germs and bacteria in the air we breathe. But the thing that does annoy me, is that I've been yelled at for covering up my own sneezes and coughs. I tend to cough into my jacket, either right into the collar/where-the-hood-connects area or into the elbow-pit area. My host-mom yells at me all the time that I'm getting my sweatshirt or jacket dirty. She's right, but I think it's more about being courteous to others around me. Sacrificing my own sweatshirt as to not cough on everybody else seems like the right thing to me.

It's ironic to me, that there doesn't seem to be too much emphasis but on manners concerning spreading one's sneezes, coughs, and farts, yet I do see a crap-ton of people wearing the medical facemasks. I wonder if it is for germs, or just the non-human pollution and the yellowdust in the air.

Third, I tend to pay attention in public bathrooms if people wash their hands or not, especially in restaurants where I'm accustomed to the American signs that read, "Employees MUST wash their hands before returning to work." You don't see those signs here, and as far as Korean dudes go, the amount I see walk right past the sink, compared to the ones that do wash their hands, is significantly higher. Most of the time, I'm the only person in a public restroom washing my hands, and it is a burden, because very few places I've been have paper towels. So you have to use toilet paper, which rips up, or your own shirt. Meanwhile, while I'm washing my hands, there's typically 3-4 other dudes who just used the restroom, fixing their hair to make sure each piece is in place, then they walk right out.

Lastly, at most of the places I work at, you have to take your shoes off at the door. Sometimes there are complimentary slippers to use, and other times, you just walk around in your socks. There are smelly socks everywhere, including my own (which is worsened by my smelly ankle brace). It was hard to get used to, and I'm still struggling a little. Every time I teach, there is a wave of rancid foot smell rippling across the room, originating from the feet of these little kids. I don't think this is something unique to Korea; young kids have smelly feet in every country, especially after a day's worth of running around and playing. The only difference is that Koreans take off their shoes, exposing all the stench. It made me realize how life saving shoes are. They hold in the bad smells.

But in the end, even with these minor differences, I have nothing to complain about. Different place, different customs, and I'm happy to have the privilege of experiencing them.

Gender-bending

Day 34 - Sunday 27 March 2011

So apparently, Korea thinks I'm gay… Actually to be a little more specific, not necessarily gay (although those words have been used) but rather feminine. There have been enough random conversations where my feminineness has been brought up, that I think it is an appropriate time for gender-bending and homosexuality to get it's own post.

I really hate it that I always have to start every article with the same old damn disclaimers, but it really does seem necessary. People are always too ready to pounce on my thoughts. I don't think I'm God, and people should know everything I type are my own opinions and perspectives based on the interactions I have had in Korea. I realize, under some crazy low-probability coincidence, maybe the Koreans I hang out with are the only Koreans in the entire planet that think I'm gay. I'm not here to say what's right and what's wrong (although for the record, I am completely cool with anybody's varying sexual orientation), but rather just to spew out my mind and all the strange observations I've made during my journey.

It's interesting to hear the reasoning my Korean acquaintances (who are all married, full-grown adults) give concerning why they question my sexuality. And what's even more interesting is that a lot of what they say has some insight into Korean society and culture.

To start with, there's the obvious (yet ironic) issue of my physical appearance. I tend to have long hair, Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai and Ahn Junghwan being my main inspirations. I also have slightly gauged metal loop earrings, and I keep my face always shaved and smooth like a baby's bottom. I have come to terms with my appearance, and both Americans and Koreans have mistaken me for a girl before, from behind or the side. If I really cared, I could go back to a standard Carson Daly crew cut, remove my earrings, and grow a burley beard, but I choose not to. In addition to my face/head, my clothing style has been pointed out to be a source of my femininity. I dress fairly plainly. Nice, solid pair of jeans, nothing too fancy or expensive, a t-shirt with some cheesy picture or joke, and a soccer team hoodie or track jacket. According to a lot of the adult Koreans I talk to, this makes me look feminine and like a middle schooler. They say I should dress more stylish. Now I'm not here to judge Korean fashion but it's funny and ironic to me that dressing more like these guys (see pictures above) would make me look more heterosexual.

To each his own. So if this is Korea's ideal heterosexual, no questions needed, male, then so be it. I guess if dressing like a hybrid of a dude from a Wrangler's/Marlboro commercial and professional soccer player makes me feminine, then I'm staying feminine for the standards here. I'm sorry Korea, but I can't do skinny jeans, multi-layered tops, shoes without thick soles, and male-specific makeup. Nor can I cross my legs while sitting down. I should also note, that even seeing a bunch a dudes walking around wearing clothing like I just described, or looking like the dudes from Big Bang (pictured above), I have never made fun of the sexuality of any Koreans here, but they've let me know how they feel about me.

So the second reason is a more important topic to me. They say I must be a girl at heart because I communicate well with people, especially women. They say they've never met a person who listens to them as much as I do, and openly shares my thoughts in return. It's all true, that is how I am, but so where all the dudes I went to college with. We always had deep heart-to-heart, what is life, cigarette smoking breaks in between our studies. This really made me think about the family unit here in Korea. I haven't met every single married couple in Korea, but from what I've witnessed, the family unit is dead here (as compared to my American experiences). The dad's are never home. They work 8am to past midnight, 6 days a week. When they are home, they rarely are involved with any of the family activities, and never have any discussions besides family logistics, like bills and who needs the car. I also here the stories of the families that send the mother and children abroad to study, while the husband remains in Korea to work.

My working situation through the program I came to Korea through, gives me a lot of free time, and with that time I obviously have the upper hand on these working dads. They are doing the noble thing, working, earning money and providing for their family. I have nothing bad to say about them, but it has put me in a strange situation that my availability to be around, talk, go grocery shopping with all these mom's is something they've never experienced. Because I'm not a reserved, workaholic male, they say I must be gay. I can't say it enough, this phenomenon is nuts to me. I have been told numerous times by Koreans here, that I would make one awesome husband, and all I did was talk to them. And once again, because the ability to have conversations with an adult male was something they hadn't experienced in a long time, I must have a girl's personality deep at heart. There's no way an attentive, caring adult male exists anymore (their words, not mine).

I'm definitely more appreciative of the 9am-5pm work/school schedule in America. Compared to Korea, my family has nothing to complain about. I wish I could build on this more, but it's late and I want to sleep. There was a whole other part I was going to write about regarding my athletic ability, exerting myself on the football and soccer field, and yet that didn't gain me any heterosexual points among my Korean peers. Oh the cultural differences…so much left to learn!

Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese & Koreans

Wednesday - 23 March 2011

Day 30

I was sitting in the Holt Post-Adoption Center's waiting room this afternoon waiting for my bosses to finish up some work before we headed to the Holt Homecoming Program Welcoming (for some)/Going Away (for others) Party. There was a decent sized array of adoption books and magazines pilled under the coffee table and I decided to browse through some of it. I came across a compilation of pieces written by the first big wave of Korean Adoptees to America. It was published in 1990 out of the Twin Cities. There was one poem in particular that caught my eye and gave me something to think about the rest of the day.

The poem was about the terribleness and agony brought about from people calling Korean adoptees Chinese, Japanese, or Taiwanese. This is a fairly common topic. I hear it all the time and I've even seen it written on shirts. It's also something not only adoptees face, but also Korean Americans.

I understand how annoying it can be to be mistaken for the different flavors of East Asian, but to put things bluntly, I think we can all stop crying about it. Insert World's Smallest Violin cliché. Of all the forms of discrimination and racism we face, I really don't think this is bad. Here's a couple talking points of my reasoning:

First of all, by being offended by being mistaken for Chinese, Japanese, or Taiwanese, it seems like we're implying those are lower ethnicities/nationalities than Korean. People call me Japanese all the time, but after being exposed to Japan's rich culture through Japanese-Hawaiians, I take it as a compliment. Nor would I mind being called Chinese or Taiwanese.

Second, lets face it, we look similar to a certain extent. There are similarities between the big 4 East Asian peoples, but we also do have our differences. To the untrained eye, and even sometimes the trained eye, it's hard to correctly identify all Asian people to their country of origin. Throughout my years in college, I was deeply exposed to a diverse international soccer (football, futebol, calcio) crowd. I mistook Austrians for Germans, Paraguayans for Uruguayans, Puerto Ricans for Mexicans, Brasilians for Portuguese, Tanzanians for Nigerians, etc etc etc and all the vice versa's. In all those meetings and getting to know one another, not one of them cared once. They didn't explode on me because I incorrectly identified their accent, or clothing style. It was a common mistake, they knew I was asking out of curiosity and interest in their hometown, culture, and what teams they supported. They corrected me, we chatted, and moved on with life.

If some uber-racist American is approaching you in a belligerent manner or making stereo-typical assumptions, and wants to hate you for being Japanese, Korean, Chinese, or Taiwanese…or simply hate you regardless of which of the 4 you are, then that’s a crappy situation. That's a bad dude, and he can rot in Hell. But for all the people simply acting out of curiosity and genuine interest in learning more to improve their ignorance about another culture, it's time not be so sensitive. Grow up adoptee community!

I can recall a perfect example of when being overly-sensitive to this sort of situation went bad. I was with a group of adoptees, leaving a grocery store and heading to a Taco Bell across the large parking lot. We were in a primarily white town, and probably 95% of the people shopping and wandering the streets were all white. A man leaving the store, who looked like a hippie version of George Lucas, was walking beside us and asked if we were Chinese. One of the adoptees (I should note, a 19 yr old male adult) exploded at this dude. "WHY DO YOU THINK WE'RE CHINESE…YOU'RE A RACIST…BLAH BLAH BLAH!!!" I told my acquaintance, who I'll just nickname Frank for now, to calm down but he was too upset with this guy. The irony is Frank was making the scene, not the stranger. I told Frank to take a walk and I calmly started apologizing to this guy. The guy was chill and we started talking. He was white, but his wife was Chinese-American, who he had bi-racial babies with, and because of his mixed family, he was very involved with the small Chinese Christian Community in the Eugene-Portland area. He had recently went on a mission trip to China and had the experience of his life. Obviously this connection to Chinese culture, and the fact that he rarely saw Asians in the area, prompted him to as if we were Chinese. Kudos to him. Good guy. This was such a Dave Chappelle "When keeping it real goes wrong" situation.

I'm not the Martin Luther King Jr. of adoptees, but I think I have a fair grasp on what is reasonable to get upset over. I really don't like people who are so sensitive to adoption/racial issues, that their attitude backfires and they are the ones trying to conjure up a racist situation out of a non-racist one.

So to that poem, I say, you're crying over spilt milk. Yes it is slightly annoying that people think we're Chinese, but I doubt you can tell me if a white American is German, English, Irish, Danish, Dutch, etc. People are going to continue to mistake us, but the good people out there just want to learn, so educate them.

My Host-Family's Ties to Adoption

Day 13 - Sunday 06 March 2011

Today I learned my host-family's connection with adoption. Considering the statistics, that over 100,000 children have been adopted in the last ~50 years from Korea, making up 10% of the Korean-American population, it was no surprise to me to find that the people I would meet here had some sort of ties to adoption. And of course there was also the fact that my host-family volunteers their household for Holt's post-adoption services. The real surprise was that they were willing to share and talk about their stories.

My host-mom grew up in fairly hard times (wikipedia Korean's post-war history), and her mother rented out one of the rooms in their house/apt. My host-mom was only a teenager at the time, when one particular guest rented their empty room. It was a young Korean woman in her late teens who had relations with an African-American military man. She had 2 babies, and abandoned them and went back to America, without a look back. I could care less what this guy's race was, but I note the color of his skin to point out the fact that back in the day (and perhaps today) half Koreans-half blacks had a very hard time growing up in Korean society. So the mother was too young and poor to take care of the children on her own. She soon abandoned them as well and my host-mom's mom (host-granny) took care of them for a while, until an adoption agency stepped in and found a family for them in America. Witnessing these sad events left my host-mom with a lot to digest and think about. She had mixed feelings about American soldiers, the adoption process, the young Korean birth mothers, etc. But regardless of how she felt, it left her connected and curious to learn more about adoption.

The second story, came from the mother of one of my students for my private tutoring. For fun, and in a relaxed fashion of exposing kids to English, every Friday afternoon I get to teach/hangout with host-bro and 4 of his school friends, while all the moms eat food, drink and talk. They are all family friends of one another. One of the moms told me that her parents also had a hard time while she was young. She was one of many children, and her mom actually took her to an orphanage to drop her off 5 times, but in the end couldn't go through with it. So she was never adopted, but knows the story about how she could have been. She talked about how she understood her family's situation and isn't for or against adoption. If it would have happened to her, then that would be that, and she would make the most of her life. The point that she wanted to stress to me was that adoption was definitely an option hidden in the back of every Korean parent's mind. It was hard times and everybody knew how and where they could relinquish a child. Anybody who plays ignorant to the fact that all this was going on behind the scenes, without being talked about publicly, is a liar.

I think adoption in the 60s-90s in Korea, must have been like the Jersey Shore television show in present day America. Everybody knows about it and heard the premise, but they aren't exactly happy that it's taking place, especially in their own country. The ever-present secret shame of a nation.

You won't hear too many Koreans (or anybody from any country for that matter) openly talking about adoption-related things that might bring shame or embarrassment to their family, but I'm glad these people were willing to share. Even though Korea and Koreans seem to not talk about this sensitive subject (perhaps like Germans and the Holocaust) everybody knows it happened and was a huge part of Korean life and society. I bet, in some 6-degrees-to-Kevin Bacon-way, everybody has a connection to adoption/relinquishment in this country. You can't relinquish that many babies and have no ties whatsoever.

Clothing Prices

Day 16

I met up with an old college friend today. Second Korean-native friend that I met in the US that I have had the opportunity to reconnect with here. At first it seems strange, to be meeting in their turf, yet once I'm with old friends, I completely forget about where I am, proving once again people are much more important than environment. I could have fun with friends out in the deserts of New Mexico.

We went shopping at all the big name stores, and I've come to realize that I'm incapable of buying anything here in Seoul. I have the money to, but just can't do it. Everything here is ridiculously overpriced, which is weird to me, because it's all made in some part of Asia. Before I came here, I expected everything to be significantly cheaper. I went to the Nike store, and I was at first very happy that they had a huge soccer selection. But upon looking at the price tags, my mood dropped. The N98 World Cup track jacket line (which were all worn at the 2010 WC) goes for about $50 - $70 per jacket in America. Here they're about 125,000 - 175,000 Korean won, which is roughly $112 - $167. Not worth it. I'll save all my money and just go on a shopping spree once I get back home. Strangely, the only item that seems relatively the same in price here and in the States, is soccer cleats. I've been drooling over the CTR360 II's for a couple months now.

There is however, very cheap rip-off brand clothing. We went to a couple of the more shady stores and you can find a lot of hilarious clothing. There was some Calvin Homme, Fitch (yep, just Fitch), and a crap-ton of Victoria's Secret Pink styled sweat pants and sweatshirts. But in the end, I went home empty handed. There conversations and reminiscing about old college days was more than enough for me.

Birth Search II

Day 16 - 12:25pm

With all the birth search happenings that have been taking place in my life recently, I have started to once again think in the method of the great John Raible, think about why we think the way we think. I have remained pretty calm and careless about this whole birth search ordeal and am still in that state as I type this. Yet, through emails, readings of my blog, and conversations in person, many of my family and friends have talked about how it must be a huge emotional event of my life. I couldn't feel any more oppositely. I acknowledge that finding one's birth parents in itself is a huge occasion, but that doesn't mean my emotions must reflect this, especially in sadness and negativity. So here's a look into the mind and heart of Chris Gray.

Disclaimer: There are my opinions and my thought processes. For some reason people just love to argue with me. Stop reading so deeply and drawing wrong conclusions from my words. I don't think anything I say or do or feel is the right way to live. It's my way. I'm smart and mature enough to have seen and understand the full spectrum of how people feel, treat, and deal with adoption, especially adoptees themselves. So if you find yourself feeling nowhere remotely close to the way I do, cheers to you. It's A-Okay.

I have never had loyalty, respect, or care for my birth family. This doesn't mean I actively hated them, but rather they were out of sight, out of mind. I just didn't think about them ever or factor them into my life. For anybody who can't comprehend that idea, believing that birth parents are way to important to forget about, I have this analogy. How many people think about the factor workers who made their car? How many people think about the tree that was cut down to make their house and paper. And of course, how many people think about the cow that died so they could enjoy the burger sitting on the table in front of them? Our society has dismissed and forgot about the makers and origins of almost everything else that we use in our lives. It wasn't to hard for me to not care about the womb I came from. Everybody tells me, "But Chris, they gave you life…" And that just doesn't mean anything to me. I appreciate that I'm alive, but nothing more. I'm not bitter. I'm at peace. It is what it is.

I have measured my life in the relationships and experiences that I have shared with people. So of course, the people who have been with me for the last 24 years mean a lot more than the ones who were with me for 1 day (+9 months if you want to get technical). If in some bizarre Holocaust movie situation, Nazis were holding guns to both my birth family and adoptive family, telling me I must choose which one will live and which one will die; I would choose my adoptive family in a heartbeat (to live of course). Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy, no remorse. Obviously, I hope nobody dies, so that's probably too extreme of an example, but I just want to express how strong my loyalty and connection with my adoptive family is. Maybe it could be the cliché scene where I'm holding each family in one arm at the edge of the cliff. I have to let go of one so I can use both arms for the other. Otherwise, we all die.

I feel that too often in movies and the rest of the media, there always seems to be this unnecessary loyalty to the birth family. Take the Zorro reboot with Antonio Banderas for example. Catherine Zeta Jones is kidnapped as a child and raised by the enemy. 20+ years later she returns to the Californian territories and in a split second, develops complete loyalty to her birth father. I don’t think 20+ years of being raised by a completely different person could be so easily erased. The media loves to romanticize birth family reunions. It's not like that in reality. Of all movies, I'd have to say I was very happy with the adoption/family message presented in Meet Joe Dirt. David Spade spent his whole life thinking about his birth family and finally decides to go on a pilgrimage to find them. But at the end he realizes his true family were the friends that were with him during his journey to find his birth family. They were the ones that were with him and cared about him the whole time.

Before I even came to Korea, I never had any intention of starting a birth search. I didn't care that much, but I wasn't opposed. Statemate, standstill, just like most of my other feelings. But when Holt decided to offer me their services, I wasn't going to refuse. I go with the flow. A young happy-go-lucky man, seeing where the world takes him. I factored my birth family out of my life long ago, so anything that may come, is only a bonus. "Ooo! Piece of candy!" "Ooo! Piece of candy!"

So now for the new news. The Korean Police Department contacted me via Holt and my birth mother is alive. They've located her and Holt will be sending her a letter if I want them to. I agreed and we'll see what comes of it. But I still have yet to have any emotional response to any of this. It just isn't that big of a priority of my life.

In conclusion, I just want to share the less caring, happy, positive, make the most with what you have, view of adoption. I've seen so many adoptees painfully stress and worry over the futility in trying a birth search, that they miss out on developing relationships with the people you have in your life. I recommend, not missing out on life, cause you're too busy searching for some fantasy life that could have been in Korea. Life is what it is…and what we make of it. Insert more cliché statements here.

Unexpected File Review

"They are the gatekeepers. They are guarding all the doors, they are holding all the keys." ~Morpheus

Day 11

Life is very unpredictable.

Today I had my official file review with my assigned case/social worker at Holt Korea. For those who don't know all this pretty basic adoptee-lingo, a file review is a meeting in which one gets access to their adoption papers. My parents have a copy of my Holt USA (English) papers since I was adopted at 4 months old. What information we did have was openly shared with me all my life. But sometimes the US copies are not as complete as the Korean copies. Some information is left out, toned down, or lost in translation in the US copies. If the adoption agency has any identification information on members of a birth family, like names, addresses or social security, it would be in the Korean copy only.

So anyways, I'm doing my usually routine in the early afternoon. About to teach at an afterschool program, so I decide to swing by the Holt office to pick up some workbook materials. They have a huge box of English kids books and teaching resources. While I'm sitting there browsing books, my social worker yells from across the room, hey Chris, I happened to have your file sitting on my desk, want your file review? Of course I said yes. The crazy thing about this whole situation, is that for my whole life I figured my adoption file in Korea would be hidden underground in a huge metal Italian Job, Ocean's Eleven vault. And to get that information, I would either have to James Bond it, or jump over some crocodiles on ropes, Pitfall style. But in reality it went down in an almost too casual of manner. "Oh hey Chris, I happened to have this file, that you've been waiting to see your whole life, which contains the most precious information that you could ever want, sitting in an old shoebox under my desk."

I have always known, that I was born in a farming community on the outskirts of Masan to an old Korean widow, who most likely thought she was too old to even biologically get preggo in the eggo, let alone take care of another child. I knew I had 5 older half-siblings as well. Today I learned the same story, but with a little more detail. My birth mother was born in 1939. I was born in 1986. Do the math, cause I lost the piece of paper where I calculated it all out. I also learned my 5 older half-siblings are all girls. Crazy… I'm a little glad I didn't grow up in that family. Coincidentally, I am also reading Bertha & Harry Holt's Seed from the East, in which I learned the Holt family had 5 girls and 1 boy. The oldest sister is 45 years old, almost old enough to be my mother.

After I was told all this information, the social worker wrapped up by telling me she had all the official names of my family members, which they openly gave to the adoption agency at the time of my birth, and their social security numbers. Apparently, as was explained to me, a Korean social security number has more super powers than an American one does. You can learn a lot more about a person with it, and it wouldn't be too hard to track them down. So she asked plain and simply, if you want us to run these names and numbers through the Korean Police Department, we will. I said yes. I have yet to even begin to think about the crazy stuff like meeting them, or establishing contact, but this seems like a good buffer start. They are going to gather reconnaissance about them, find out if they are still alive, and where they live, but not yet approach them.

Things happen when you never expect them to.

So a bit of advice to all my adoptee brothers and sisters, if you were adopted through Holt, and want to start a birth search. Come to Korea. It's a pretty basic, simple process.

The Routine

Day 12 - 3:25pm

It's been 2 days since I last posted, sorry about the wait. I've been busy and lazy when I'm not busy. There are a couple things to report. Life is beginning to settle into a nice groove. Here's the daily routine:

6:00am wake up, lie in bed and stare at the ceiling

6:15am traditional Korean yoga (I still need to ask what it's official name is)

7:00am Gchat and Skype with American family and friends (who are settling in for the afternoon)

10:00am jog along the Han River

12:00pm eat lunch

12:15pm prepare lesson for teaching

3:00pm teach

5:15pm return home

5:30pm play computer games and guitar with host-bro

6:00pm dinner

After dinner the random adventures begin.

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Teaching last Thursday (Day 2) was quite the reversal of the previous day. This time the younger group of early elementary kids were very good students, although I did find out they lied to me and can read and write the alphabet. The older groups of kids were the bad ones. They were in a "too cool for school" mode, pouting and whinging about everything. They refused to play Hangman as vocabulary review. Who doesn't like Hangman? I talked to the social workers in charge, and they said to not let it bother me too much. The kids have a lot of problems going on at home, and if they don't feel like learning English afterschool, it's best not to push. I am in the habit of always having to have successful lessons, so it is hard to accept my orders. Do the best I can giving the lecture, but don't try to hard to make them learn. So if a student starts to sleep, like 3 of them did, I have to just let them be. I will continue to try to make class as entertaining and education as possible, but I must harden my soul and accept there won't be Dangerous Minds or Sister Act II breakthroughs everyday.

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I've gotten frostbite for the first time in my life. It's really strange. I have survived Kansas and Illinois winters for the last couple years without any complaint, but 2 hours jogging along the Han and the back of my thighs are dead. Very red and purple. Hopefully it will go away in a couple days.

Teaching & Toilets

Day 9 - 8am

Yesterday afternoon was my first day of teaching. I had no idea what to expect, and was pretty nervous after meeting the kids last week who bluntly told me how much they hate learning English. But I was up for the challenge and consider myself a somewhat flexible person. 5 years of coaching peewee soccer helped out a lot.

One thing to note is that this is all volunteer work for Holt Children's Services in Korea. It isn't a fancy hagwon (private tutoring center), but rather a government paid, volunteer ran latchkey program held at a local church (which I will still refer to as a school). Most of the kids are from low-income families and their parents work all day long.

I divided the kids into 2 groups. 4-8 yr olds and 9-11 year olds. The first group had 9 kids total and they were out of control. They pretty much disregard all of the volunteer parents and social workers. Sometimes they just get up and wander off. But since the other adults don't care, I don't either. I also found out, after being told the contrary, that they did not know how to read or write the alphabet. This makes the whole teaching process much harder. I'll have to start from square 1. I had to speak in Korea for the whole hour just to communicate to them. I have no idea what I would have done if I didn't know how to speak.

The second group of kids were much better. There were 5 of them, and they were much more attentive and respectful. They understood the activities and games and really enjoyed their time with me. This class will be a piece o' cake. At the end of the lesson, I got the 101 questions about my personal life from the female students. "Do you live alone?" "Do you have a girlfriend?" "When was your last girlfriend?" etc etc etc. It was pretty amusing.

I go back to that same school this afternoon for round 2. Hopefully I can come up with something to keep those youngin's under control.

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(Warning: This is about Poop)

Korea is a haven for any Chris-Gray's and other intestine-ally/bladder-ally challenged people. For those who don't know me that well, or haven't experienced travelling with me, I have a very sensitive stomach, which heightens when I travel. I always have to pee and get stomach aches all the time, resulting in a desperate need to or incapability of going number 2. I am usually the burden of the group. I get even more nervous when I know I'm not going to be near a toilet, which then results in needing to pee even more. Long car rides are awful, and middle/window seats on airplanes are suicide, because I'm also self-conscious about how many times I ask the aisle seat person to get up for me.

But Korea is a toilet Utopia. There are nice clean public restrooms everywhere, and they aren't for customers only (that's right Chicago and NYC). When I wander the big American cities, and actually find a restroom that doesn't require the purchase of a $5 coffee to use, there are always other problems. No toilet paper, the lock hinge is broken, or sometimes the main door doesn't even close. Then of course the toilet itself is disgusting.

I also have to say, the toilet seats here are amazing. My host family has a massive electronic toilet seat. It keep the seat warm at all times, and has a built in bidet. I definitely want to buy one when I return home.

Restrooms. For something we all use. And we all use everyday, I don't understand why we don't take a little more pride in the facilities available. Thank you Korea, the US could learn a lot from you.

Host-Bro

Day 8 - 9:00pm

Today I made a lot of progress befriending the son of my host family, who from now on will be known as host-bro. He seems naturally shy to non-Korean speakers, something I easily noticed on my own and was supported by the stories of previous guests. I've come to realize he is the perfect speaking partner. His English level and my Korean level are about the same. We both speak at the same pace, use basic words and for the most part can communicate with each other without any stress or pressure.

My host-mom always tended to house females, and if there were males, typically they were part of programs that had shorter durations. So as the real first long-stay applicant, she agreed to take me through Holt and was thinking about having an older brother figure around for host-bro. So I've done the things an older brother would do. Host-bro just discovered old syndicated episodes of America's Funniest Home Videos that air on Korean television. Seeing how much he laughed at stupid stunts and bloopers, I decided to show him what Jackass was (none of the disgusting stuff, just them riding grocery carts into brick walls and pranks of that nature). It was the greatest thing he'd ever seen. I also downloaded him some old games that I used to play when I was his age: Dino Park Tycoon, Rollercoaster Tycoon, and Theme Hospital. He loves them. It's really easy to impress somebody who's had limited exposure to American stuff.

Self-imposed Curses

"You ever feel cursed coach? That no matter what, inside your heart you feel that you gonna lose? Like something's hanging over you, following you like a witch or a demon that just… You can't win. I feel like that all the time. Even when things are going good. When we're winning, it's there. And when we're losing, it's there.

What it took me along time to realize that a… There ain't much difference between winning and losing, except for how the outside world treats you. But inside you, it's about all the same. Yah know? It really is. Fact of the matter is I believe that our only curses are the ones that are self-imposed. Yah know what I'm saying? We…all of us dig our own holes.

Ain't no curses." ~Friday Night Lights

Day 6 - 3:00pm

I've managed to convince almost everybody here that I don't speak a lick of Korean. Little do they know, I studied for 6 years as a young adult and even more as a young child. It's been 1.5 years since I was last surrounding by a Korean-speaking community, so I have gotten rusty, but I could easily get by. I am elementary level efficient at reading, writing, and speaking, but terrible at listening. This is my self-imposed curse. I panic. The best way I can explain it is a sports star choking at the big game. I have done all the practicing, and I'm a pro with my fellow classmates, but when it comes time to speak with an adult, I panic. A mixture of my emotions and worries all intertwine with flashbacks of the millions of times I was told off or lectured by Korean people that I should know my own language. All the conversations I was left out of or couldn't take part in. And all the times my parents were villainized for robbing me of my culture. I am Roberto Baggio choking in the 1994 World Cup Final.

But my experiences at the shopping center have started to curb that. I was hesitant at first, to approach the salesmen at the Nike and Adidas store, and debating whether to just go straight with English or try some Korean. I used Korean. It worked out. I successfully had a conversation about soccer and bought some training pants. After I checked out, we talked about Hawaii and the Chicago Bulls. At the Nike store, the sales guy and I discussed the positives and negatives between trainers and running shoes. They weren't the most developed of conversations, but definitely an accomplishment. One step forward. I'm beginning to dig my way out of my own hole, if that's physically possible.