After 8 years of living in South Korea, I think it is time for me to leave Seoul. Some of my Korean friends asked me why I did not want to stay while I have always claimed my affection for my adopted country, but many others also asked me why I had stayed so long. I am not even sure I want to relocate. I just don't feel I should stay. Don't get me wrong, I still like Seoul very much but living here doesn't make me happy any more. I believe things have become too comfortable, and as the wise man says 'Real life begins outside your comfort zone.'
When I arrived in Seoul in October 2005, I had just left my beautiful old Paris and I was not ready to enter a relationship with one of those soulless megalopolises. On the other hand, I was quite excited to leave my Parisian train-train (routine) and its 'métro-boulot-dodo' (subway-office-bedroom), to start a new adventure in Far-East. I remember my first South Korean day: it was grey, chilly and not really engaging. Almost like a Parisian (day). But since I did not expect anything particular from Korea, I had no reason to be disappointed. I just wanted to adjust as soon as possible so that I can move ahead and make myself at home.
An expat is a tourist who has taken root
Whenever you visit a foreign country for the first time, you are obviously a tourist. As such, your needs, expectations, attitudes and behavior are not the same as for an expat. Your mind and body are still impregnated with the country you have left, and it is very likely you will experience a more or less intense shock, depending on many internal and external factors I will not detail here.
When your stay drags on, your priorities and perception are changing. As I like to mention, tourists mainly focus on disparities whereas expats mainly focus on similarities. When they visit a foreign country for the first time, tourists often arrive with their luggage full of dreams and expectations. Once exposed to reality, they usually try to measure the gap between what they anticipated and what they actually experience. However, their purpose is not necessarily to minimize this gap, but to have a good reason to praise or to complain. As a matter of survival, expats prefer to highlight what looks familiar. For example, kimchi looks like sauerkraut, tofu looks like mozarella, Paris Baguette looks like ... a joke (no offense), etc. Tourists often want to experiment exoticism and local products while expats will find solace in what reminds them home.
For example, when I arrived in South Korea as a tourist, I was obviously impressed by how Incheon International Airport looked neat and tidy, compared with quirky Paris CDG. After a 12-hour red-eye flight to an unknown destination, things like this matter. After 8 years of expatriation, you start to find it normal and you even complain when the line is too long.
On my way to the hotel, I did not notice anything particular, except that I had entered the Korean Matrix. There were so many strange signs on the walls, on the shopfronts, on the road signs ... All the aggressive power of advertising was removed since I could not get any message. Same for the car radio, the only thing I could hear was tatata-da, -nida, -nika ... quite a soothing lullaby.
After a couple weeks mainly dedicated to find a home and a purpose, I immersed myself in the discovery of Seoul as if it was a huge amusement park. I eventually found it surprising, energizing and even appealing. My new home town was not pretty but it was not ugly either. It was not only clean (in spite of not having bins), safe and practical, but also entertaining with all its colorful characters and attractions and its mix of tradition and modernity, concrete buildings and green areas. While I thought I would quickly get bored, I found myself challenged and eager to explore any occasion to deepen my liaison with Seoul and its inhabitants. While I could not use my mouth to speak Korean, I compensated by swallowing any kind of local delicacies, indulging myself in the barbarian samgye-tang (whole baby chicken soup) or dogani-tang (beef knuckle soup), so much that I inherited the flattering nickname of 'Dogani monster'. Though I have been forced to eat living octopus, I am glad I have miraculously escaped bosin-tang (dog soup).
Dogani-tang
Samgye-tang
Still, I have been so busy being busy that I forgot to learn Korean.
At the risk of shocking those who think that expatriation is a dream life, I would like to point out that living in a foreign country is not a piece of cake, especially when you don't share the same native language with the locals. And even if you do, you will always be an alien, a visitor from another world, a parasite. No matter how long you have lived in your host country, how fluently you speak the native language and how well you are integrated the socioeconomic landscape, nothing can be taken for granted, and especially not honorary citizenship. Sic transit gloria mundi.
For some obvious reasons, I have always thought that I should learn Korean. First, it would have made my life easier, especially at work. But after numerous attempts to learn it on my own, the result is I don't speak Korean. After so many years spent in Seoul, I am still not able to interact with Koreans who can only speak Korean, and there are still many. I know I should have tried harder and I know it would have made my life a little easier but I never really felt that I could not survive without speaking Korean. But then again, if you have a weakness you'd rather transform it into a strength or just focus on your competitive advantages. As I knew it would take a long time before I am completely fluent, I just decided I should improve my English.
I was lucky enough to meet many Koreans who could speak English and/or French and in case of emergency, I could always phone a friend or ask the audience. Moreover, this allowed me to stay away from misunderstanding, nuances, or devilish details. In the end, I have compensated my language weakness by focusing on other communication skills.
As I am not completely stubborn, I have learnt how to read Hangeul (or Korean alphabet) which does help me since I generally don't understand what I read and the only thing I can write properly is my name. But why would I learn Korean (I know, such a childish question)? First, I had not planned to stay so long in Korea and secondly, this is not as if everybody in the world could speak Korean. Moreover, I may like challenges but I could not find the necessary time and energy to take Korean lessons. Finally, I may have one million excuses to justify my ignorance but the main one is the lack of motivation.
Hangeul day, Oct.9, 2013
Most people need a great motivation to learn a new language, and particularly when there is no real obligation to do so. One may think that willingness is a necessary condition but this is not enough. Motivation is actually more important, otherwise you will quickly decide you have better things to do. The same applies for those who want to quit smoking. I don't know any smoker who does not want to get rid of his/her smoking habits (there are some though) but when it comes to motivation, it seems easier to procrastinate than making a life changing decision.
So after 8 years of living in Korea without speaking Korean, the question is: should I stay or should I go? If I choose to stay, should I eventually decide to learn Korean or do I just consider it will take just a few years so that everybody can speak English?
I am too tired to answer those questions now. Over the last years, I have furiously embraced the Korean lifestyle while trying to protect myself against a total assimilation. I have tried very hard to follow the local rules and regulations, I have often questioned myself (and my mental health) and I sometimes accepted the unacceptable (at least according to my system of values, being close to sacrifice my basic human rights (such as vacations) on the altar of integration.
Being French did not help me as it has often been difficult to shut my mouth, but in the end, I became proud again of my cultural background ... the French 'art de vivre' (art of living), intellectualism, cheekiness, sensuality, elegance, derision, complexity, criticism, contradiction, perfectionism, self-indulgence, sophistication, ... all those 'je'ne-sais-quoi' that make French people so irritatingly attractive and hard to please.
In conclusion, I would say that living abroad may be either a privilege for many or a cross to bear for some, but in the end, it is always a good opportunity to put things in perspective. And when in Seoul, don't try to do as the Seoulites do.
Bonus
If you think that a macaron should look like a hamburger sandwich, then just go revise your classics, or go and visit Peyo, a new macaron and coffee shop close to Ewha station in Seoul. Here, you will have a unique opportunity to taste the genuine macarons from French Basque Country.
First let me explain that Peyo is a first name. It is the equivalent of 'Peter' for the Basques.
As for macarons, you need to know that the original recipe essentially uses almond powder, eggs (white) and (little) sugar. It means that macarons are normally good for health and probably for the skin (if you don't add artificial flavors and colorants, and of course any sweet, buttery filling, like the sugar bombs that are now so popular).
As for the history of macarons, it is very long so you'd better ask Mikaël, the owner of Peyo, directly. If he is not preparing his next batch, he will be very glad to explain to you the true nature and essence of macaron.
Mikaël is a French artisan and engineer. It means he does not compromise with quality. His hand-made macarons are not only cookies (oops, actually they are NOT cookies, please don't mention 'cookies' in front of him! still, I don't know what I should call them ...), but also little pieces of culinary art.
I actually think Peyo's macarons taste much better than Lad...rée macarons or any other bling-bling cookies that proliferate in so many pastry franchises in Seoul.
Moreover, Mikaël likes to experiment new flavors as much as I like to play his guinea pig and, I'd like to think, his crazy muse. So far, I have tried the 'original' (my favorite), yuja, lemon, grapefruit, green tea, hazelnut, ginger+choco, very berry, strawberry, cinammon, choco, blueberry, and even wasabi. Well, I must have forgotten some but it seems I have tasted everything. Those macarons are crunchy outside and soft inside, with a long finish in your mouth. I would recommend Champagne with Peyo macarons, though Earl Grey tea is also an interesting option, as well as a glass of milk or spicy glue wine.
Of course, Peyo offers great coffees or choco and some 'délires de l'artiste' (artistic frenzies), such as the caffe latte with grapefruit syrup. Believe it or not, it is really good.
Finally, I would say that eating a Peyo macaron is a statement.
Mikaël, Peyo's owner
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