July 2, 2019
Korea is known for its tall apartment complexes, as well as the soaring skyscrapers found in any major city. But I was still thoroughly impressed when I saw the Hyundai City Outlet. With more than 13 floors of shopping and food courts, it was enough sensory stimulation to keep me occupied for hours. My friend and I met my old high school friend (the same one who helped us get to our Airbnb on our first night in Korea) on the 11th floor, in front of the museum: L’atelier. Seeing her again made me strangely nostalgic for high school – the last time I had seen her, had been at my high school graduation. It felt amazing to see her again!
The museum itself was a Van Gogh museum, a type of hidden gem in the busy streets of Dongdaemun. The walk-through museum was carefully and aesthetically decorated to transport the visitors to France. Each room of the museum depicted a different scene – from a cute bakery shop to a snow-filled cityscape, to a flower shop. There were tiny screens hidden within each scene that had miniature animated figures and scenes. For instance, in the bookshelf of one of the rooms, small windows peeked out amidst the books to show women dressed in 19th-century European dresses walking and talking.
In addition, there were a number of rooms where there was an interactive exhibit, where we could speak with the man on the screen. An employee explained to us that we were not to curse at the exhibit, which made me wonder if there was an amusing story behind the rule. When we tried to speak to the man in English, he replied that we needed to speak Korean. Wow… we were schooled by a 2D man in a screen…
One of the last exhibits we went to was an interactive one. It was a room that was dark when we walked in, then burst into a scene of twinkling stars. It transformed once more to feature a pond, complete with a bridge projected on the wall, and tree vines waving in an unfelt breeze of wind. On the floor, there were lily pads and lilies. When we stepped on the flowers, they scattered. It truly felt like we were standing on top of a pond, with the water gently flowing beneath our feet. I wish I could have stayed longer in that peaceful scene.
But I didn’t stay disappointed for very long, because we made our way to a budejjigae place and soon, there was a steaming stone pot full of a spicy stew-type meal, with ramen noodles, ham, sausage, and rice cakes. To say it was satisfying would be an understatement.
As much as I enjoyed the food, I also found our conversation on-point with the very reason that I had wanted to visit Korea: to learn about the culture of the country. My friend who had met us at the museum was a college student at one of the top universities in South Korea: Yonsei University. It seems to be fairly common knowledge that Korea has a ruthlessly competitive academic system, with the sole purpose of many high school seniors seeming to be admission into any of the top three S.K.Y. schools: Seoul National University, Korea National University, and Yonsei University.
My friend was a success story – she had acquired a coveted seat at a top school. Yet as we talked, it became clear that it had not been what she had initially expected. She expressed disappointment about the lack of resources, in comparison to what she had expected from a top school, and disappointment at the lacking skills of her English professors. It was also fascinating to find that her school charged tuition depending on major. For STEM majors who need more facilities, resources, and lab supplies, the tuition is higher than Humanities majors who do not necessarily need access to such intensive resources. As a humanities major herself, she revealed that she paid about $3,000 per semester.
Out of all of the things I had learned and experienced in Korea, I was the most jealous of this tuition. I attend a public school in California, and the tuition per year is $33,000. Granted, I do not pay all of that because of generous financial aid and grants, but the sheer scale in the difference in tuition costs was staggering. I was so jealous. She, on the other hand, expressed jealousy at the extracurricular activities and resources we had at our fingertips, as a fairly prominent university in the U.S. As we discussed potential career paths, the bias that Korea held against Humanities became all the more clear, with her rather dejected admission of the career she wished to pursue in the arts.
With the empty bowls in front of us, I faced an unexpected argument: who would be paying for the meal. This was another clear point of cultural difference. When I go out to dinner with friends in the U.S., we each pay for our own meal. Here, in Korea, my friend strongly insisted on paying the bill in full. She explained that it was because she was happy to see us, but it was precisely that reason that I had actually intended on paying for her portion, to thank her for showing us around.
I lost the argument.
I feel like I always lose this argument.
We went out to Hongdae, intending to give me the chance to pay her back by buying dessert. Of course, all the cafes were closed by then. I comforted myself by promising her a tour and meal when she came to visit me in the U.S.
At the end of the night, as we said our farewells, my friend and I dragged our exhausted selves back to our Airbnb, I sat and pondered about the amazingly satisfying day we had had. From a trip down to a focal point of Korean history to a clear example of westernization in Korea to a thought-provoking conversation about our respective countries and college, it was hard to imagine a more fulfilling first day. If the rest of our days on this trip provided even half the excitement and mental stimulation that today had, I would be more than content.