Sartorial Aside

One of the best parts of travel is the time it affords you to think. Ponder. Introspect. Especially when language barriers and social isolation factor in, being away from home, away from everything familiar (not that Seoul is so much of an adjustment to live in coming from New York); it gives you that crucial shift in perspective necessary to truly cultivating an open mind. Suddenly reality and its perception refracts, often subtly. Certain things fall out of focus, others come sharply into view. Sometimes profound realizations materialize, sometimes simple appreciation for things long overlooked bubble to the surface.

This is a case of the latter.

Tie clips I understand, but have never used. Thinking about them recently, I've decided retroactively that its been more of an active avoidance rather than permissive neglect. Tie clips I understand, ties I do not. Especially in a healthcare setting, where they dangle daringly over patients, and glide silently across surfaces covered by who knows what. To make use of a tie clip would be a concession legitimizing the place of the tie in the hospital. Call me stubborn; it's nothing I don't already know. But I maintain that professionalism is a weak argument in favor of ties - certainly surgeons in scrubs aren't necessarily any less professional - but I'll save my criticisms of this argument for a discussion about white coats.

Cuff links, as a functional accessory, I understand - but in a similar way to ties, it's the context of use that is beguiling. French cuffs...why? I was once curious about cuff links. Perusing for a pair suited to my taste in a department store many years ago, I was seeking something understated, something simple, something mostly functional. This is not a mindset that is consistent with the idea of a French cuff - a gaudy, overly thick, boastful wrist wrap. Only the French could conceive of making their cuffs twice too long, only to fold them back and create a need for cuff links.

That's a personal aesthetic opinion that perhaps will change in the future. Probably not.

What is it that I do appreciate, then? Collar stays and shoe horns. Unsung heroes of aesthetic professionalism. Mere pieces of semi-rigid plastic, geometrically simple, they are invisible helpers for a thankless and often too-subtle-to-notice job.

Today I reached an epiphany of appreciation for my collar stays. Slipping them into my shirts when I first arrived in Seoul, I never expected I'd mourn their disappearance when, upon return of my dry cleaning, they were gone. I didn't even notice they were gone until mid-day, when my collar started to do that sagging leaflet thing with the curled up tip. Annoyed (for a multitude of reasons today),  I propped them up. Over and over again. Luckily the shirts came with two pairs, the second of which I will diligently remove before dry cleaning again.

Now, my shirt freshly laundered and collar confidently poised, I can't help but feel imbued with similar esteem and unseen strength.

Shoehorns I have long appreciated. My right index finger knuckle has been indebted to them since an early age. Though the tops of my shoes get quickly creased and worn, shoehorns preserve the backside, always. I even have fond memories from middle school of eating an entire bucket of cookie dough in a hotel room with some friends while on a band trip - scooping out handfuls at a time with a shoehorn.

One day, I will find the right one for me. Call me a sartorial sentimentalist; it's nice to be in a country where shoehorns abound. Strangely, I feel more at home.

Army Brats

On the way to meet up with some friends for dinner in 강남, I had my first exposure to other foreigners in Seoul. It's incredible how homogeneous the city has remained, especially on weekdays. But it was Friday night, start of the weekend, and I suppose time for the foreigners to live it up a little and enjoy the famous night life.

Until now, I had felt overwhelmingly like an American displaced in a country where everyone happens to share a larger portion of my gene pool than I'm used to, speaks a language I understand on a toddler level (though that is debatable), and eats the same food I grew up eating. I feel I am easily identifiable as a 교포, and that has led me to feel somewhat more loyal to lady liberty, the red white and blue, and all that patriotic jazz.

So it shocked me to enter the subway car on the way to dinner to see a group of six Americans (five white guys and a black guy), and immediately feel a surge of judgment, condescension, and disgust. These were not travelers expanding their horizons, nor were they students enriching their educational experience, nor friends taking advantage of travel opportunities abroad. These were US military, "off duty" or whatever you call it, acting like complete asses on the train.

While not as obsessively polite as Japan, Korea still observes a respect for others sense of well-being, harmony if you want to apply that Asian cliché term. Each subway car is flanked by seats reserved for the elderly. Despite maintaining full cell reception deep underground, phone conversation is rarely heard, and muffled and quiet if so. I have yet to hear audible music playing.

It makes for an enjoyable ride for everyone.

Yet on this particular train, on this particular night, five of the 6 guys are sprawled out across 10 or more seats, slouched sideways with their legs spread, tenting up obnoxiously baggy pants circa 2001 wigger. Their attitude sucks. Yucking up amongst themselves over how "silly" some of the station names sound, which they are when pronounced with all the finesse that can be squeezed between tandem "yo's." Making fun of elderly Koreans who, once upon a time, were actually listened to when they scolded youth.

Obviously these guys were off to find some girls to treat with respect.

The disapproval and annoyance hung like a stank fart in that car. I wanted so bad for an opportunity to intervene. Something welled up inside me. Whether it was pride in defense of Koreans, or enraged disbelief on behalf of Americans, I think is a moot point. It was quickly overcome by a sense of helplessness. These were relative kids. And they weren't about to get a lesson in maturity before my next transfer.

The funniest part of all is that these guys were losers. They'd never get away with acting "gangster" like this in the States. Mosquito larva in a wading pool - irrelevant to the fish, but still fucking annoying.

With this amount of cultural sensitivity in a DEVELOPED and WESTERNIZED context, its no wonder that the United States is hated in most places outside of UK and Canada. And even there, we're not so popular, eh? Obviously these guys don't represent the whole of the US military presence in Korea. I've met many more army guys who are very cool, and are well attuned to the culture here at a depth that I might never achieve. But come the weekend, the rats definitely start coming out of the woodwork.