Cleary being foreign in Korea has some negative side effects: stares, jacked up prices, random people wanting to practice English with you, drunk crazy guys poking you in the eye, but there is one thing that makes up for all of this: the fact that people handing out crap on the street all but ignore you.
Like all major cities, Seoul has its share of guys and gals on street corners handing out various promotional material: arcade / casino flyers, religious material, coupons for various eateries, and so on. But when the said people see my white ass, they turn away, thus saving me the “Here you throw this out,” interaction the handbill people have with the reast of the general public.
So while on the street, I am ignored by the bulk of people hawking stuff, but on occassion, various door to door salesmen and Jehovah’s Witnesses will knock on the door of my humble abode. Now walking up to a stranger’s house and ringing the bell is a lot like Let’s Make A Deal. The person going door to door has no idea what’s going to be behind a particular door. Maybe it’s a car, but more often than not it happens to be a goat or a mule. For the most part these people go door to door in the mid-morning 10:00, 11:00 in the morning. I don’t venture off to the office until after noon, so if someone comes knocking, I’ll be there to answer, and more often than not, in the minds of the door to door salesmen, I’m the goat, not the 1977 Dodge Dart.
Now let me briefly explain my morning ritual. Most mornings are spent by me hanging around my apartment in various states of undress drinking green tea, using the internet, and studying Korean. So in the event the someone rings my doorbell, I have to pull on some pants. I rarely have a chance to zipper said pants, but it doesn’t matter…I must answer the door, since it could be Publisher’s Clearing House!
On a particular day I hear the bell ring. I jump up to answer the door, pulling on some clothing as I go. I’m clad in some white Salvation Army t-shirt with some rediculous graphic on it, and a pair of slacks, belt undone, zipper not zipped. I open the door and there before me are some Jehovah’s Witnesses. Now usually they see me, utter the one English word they know (”Jesus”), hand me a copy of “The Watchtower,” and hit the bricks, but for some reason this time they asked (in Korean) if I could speak Korean, and for some reason I proclaimed (in Korean), “Of course I can speak Korean!” I am now presenting the following conversation I had with these women. I’ve taken the liberty of translating the conversation into English, since the bulk of my readers don’t understand Korean, but remember this conversation was held entirely in crappy Korean (on my end).
WOMAN 1: (shocked at my white face)Oh! Can you speak Korean?
ME: Of course I can!
WOMAN 2: (to her partner) He speaks Korean well!
ME: No, no…not really.
WOMAN 1: Why did you come to Korea?
ME: Well I wanted to learn Korean….(I notice The Watchtower they hold) and I’m a Buddhist!
WOMAN 1 & 2: A Buddhist?! Really?
ME: Yes. For five years!
WOMAN 1: Wow! Where are you from?
ME: America. I come from New York. (I always add I’m from New York, because even those Koreans who “hate” America and Americans hold no ill will towards New York).
WOMAN 2: Are there are many Buddhists in America?
ME: Oh yes, it very popular right now…so much so that a lot of famous actors pretend to be Buddhist.
WOMAN 1: Well if you want to go to heaven please read this.
ME: I don’t want to go to heaven. Wanting only leads to suffering.
WOMAN 2: He is really a Buddhist….he won’t join us.
WOMAN 1: Well thank you for your time.
ME: No problem.
