On Being a Tour Guide (also known as Caroline's Confrontation with Cluelessness)

People have often reminded me that those who are tucking away a year in Korea still know nothing about Korea. No, not even the small, suburban neighborhood where they reside. With the constant flow of friends departing and n00bs invading, I have caught myself feeling a bit...knowledgeable. But my family came to visit and I quickly became reacquainted with the boundaries of my already quite limited intelligence.

Early in their 14 days' stay I was awarded a dinky Korean flag which served as my Banner of Guidance whilst I led my effectively mute and illiterate family around the streets of Seoul and Busan, the second largest city here. I will say now that my family did a spectacular job deciphering maps and miming their way when I was forced to abandon them in favor of that nuisance called a 'job.' But in my stints as their fearful leader I found myself scrambling, as leaders do,  to meet everyone's needs and desires, frantically waving that little flag whenever I had the slightest indication of a bright idea. Despite my planning and researching and daydreaming and actual experiencing, I was reminded once again that I essentially know nothing about Korea.

This uncertainty was invigorating in its own way. Not that I had been bored, but some of the once new and exciting things had become routine. It was refreshing to feel like I was starting my relationship with Korea all over again. The unbelievable outreach of friends, both Korean and foreigner, who advised, assisted, and accompanied my family proved yet again the amazing community a person can build in a short period of time, particularly in a strange land. My own family provided me with the motivation to seek out experiences I had overlooked in my first exploits in the country. And it should go without saying that tromping about a foreign city with six family members trailing behind like round-eyed ducklings is downright hysterical and was more fun than I could imagine before or explain now. You can be sure that every time I waved my tour-guide flag, I raised my hand up high like an eager student, and beaming at my adventurous and trusting comFAMions.

At the same time, I was proud to prove to my family what I have learned since my arrival back in October. I noticed a sharp spike in my extremely rudimentary Korean during their visit, as I used my entire vocabulary probably every day (Yes, I am a proponent of language immersion). Each time I successfully delivered us to the next destination on our itinerary was a not-so-secret triumph. We discovered new restaurants and tracked down interesting diversions— you certainly learn what you teach. There is also a sort of satisfaction in bringing together two major parts of your life, no matter the place or time. When my family from home met my family in Korea, I felt like I was growing a little garden of ties across oceans, cultures, generations, and most importantly, people.

One of the best things I learned was what makes Korea unique, at least from my tiny perspective on the world. You can't visit the country without experiencing the astonishing combination of traditional and futuristic, natural and engineered. These contradictions are easiest to see in the architecture around Seoul. Check out the photos below, where ancient buildings are framed by the most modern skyscrapers. I don't know much about Korea, but these images represent more than just what I see everyday. They are the struggle for understanding in Korea that I've come to appreciate.

In the end, I can't honestly tell you that I didn't expect this (re)confrontation with cluelessness to happen. Shoot, even if you never leave your hometown, I guarantee you'll be surprised sometime or another. No matter how long anyone stays in one place, perhaps especially a relatively homogeneous and xenophobic place like Korea, one can never truly know everything. A waygook will never be Korean. A foreigner will never be a native. We'll never get all the social queues, the linguistic nuances, the back roads and local hangouts and secret spots for spectacular city scapes. But all this means is that we should never stop trying to know it all.

And I can't publish this post without a shout out to my parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle for the many gifts they gave me: peanut butter, deodorant, their time and presence, but most of all, that amazing little flag.