In his Pensees, Blaise Pascal notes that man is on a constant quest for distraction from himself.
"143. Diversion. -- Men are entrusted from infancy with the care of their honour, their property, their friends, and even with the property and the honour of their friends. They are overwhelmed with business, with the study of languages, and with physical exercise; and they are made to understand that they cannot be happy unless their health, their honour, their fortune and that of their friends be in good condition, and that a single thing wanting will make them unhappy. Thus they are given cares and business which make them bustle about from break of day. It is, you will exclaim, a strange way to make them happy! What more could be done to make them miserable?- Indeed! what could be done? We should only have to relieve them from all these cares; for then they would see themselves: they would reflect on what they are, whence they came, whither they go, and thus we cannot employ and divert them too much. And this is why, after having given them so much business, we advise them, if they have some time for relaxation, to employ it in amusement, in play, and to be always fully occupied.
How hollow and full of ribaldry is the heart of man!"
Eventually, Pascal found the answer in God. Is God the ultimate distraction? Well, obviously Pascal has never been to Seoul...
Until the Monsoon showers of humid July pour down, light drizzles dot the spring days. No matter how light the drizzles be, the Seoulites obsessively shelter themselves with umbrellas. At first I found this peculiar - what's wrong with an ever-so-light sprinkle of rain-water? No sooner than the thought had formed and the rain lightly caressed my skin, had I realized the logic of the obsession of avoiding the rain. As the rain drops follow the course set to them by gravity, lured by mother earth to their inevitable crash, they pass through the thick blankets of pollution, hovering like vultures awaiting the final breath of a dying animal. Collecting samples of the poisons man scatters, they bring it back down, on the streets of Seoul and its inhabitants. Acid rain pours on the city. God's fire of heaven pours down on Sodom and Gomorrah.
Speaking of fire, let me turn to the once hot border for a taste of North-Korea. One fine Saturday morning, at 0700 sharp, I arrived at one of the many US bases in Seoul, to join a guided tour to the DMZ, the Demilitarized Zone forming the border between the North and South Koreas. The DMZ itself is about 4 km wide, a strip of land strewn with irrigated fields and mine fields, which is actually inhabited by a single South Korean village, the inhabitants of which have a curfew every day at midnight. The view of the North Korean side reveals nothing unique, except for a nearby village nicknamed "Propaganda village" by the US GIs due to the enormous flag, too heavy to flap most of the time, exhibited high above it, and the high buildings which have no floors or ceilings to separate its stories, the sole purpose of which (again, all according to the US) is to exhibit presence. Only one spot allows contact between the two sides - the Joint Security Area (JSA).
The JSA is the meeting point for high officials and army generals. However, the place has a rather absurd, if not surreal, feel to it. As the tour group arrived, South Korean soldiers spread throughout the area, supposedly for our own protection. They are all taller than the average Korean, and are all taekwondo experts. With their spotless uniform, shiny helmets and dark sunglasses, they all stand in a rather ridiculous taekwondo position, their looks meant to portray strength and aggressiveness to their Northern counterparts. I wonder how much of is it actually security related, and how much is a show put on for our touristic experience. The Northerners quickly arrived for a curious inspection. They apathetically strolled on their side of the land, occasionally examining us with heavy-looking binoculars. The cement line a few inches high marking the border, the grave, solemn appearance of the South Korea elite soldiers on one side, and the indifference and curiosity on the behalf of the North Koreans on the other side, all contributed to the creation of a preposterous scene.
But while the situation at the border remained cool, the days got warmer and my hair thicker. The day of the haircut loomed in the near future. A fear consolidated that I would be forced to walk the streets with the standard, all-prevalent Korean haircut. If there is one fear greater than the fear common to all men of the hair-stylist's chair (since barbers are an endangered species if not an extinct race) it is the fear of the hair-stylist's chair in a foreign country. However, one fine day I bravely took my seat. I had to conquer my horror and firmly clench the seat arms as I realized how little English the hair-stylist spoke. With the last, trembling words of "short, here" I surrendered completely to the scissors. It wasn't long before the hair-stylist stopped. With the help of an interpreter she said that she cannot cut any more. The reason? This is the place for a slight detour to describe the outline of the Korean head. It starts very wide at the bottom, the jaw, and gradually gets wider as you move higher. Back to the hair-stylist, who claimed that due to the irregular shape of my head, the odd way in which my head suddenly dips in at the temples, any further cutting will be hazardous to my appearance. A minute later I managed to shut my gaping jaw and signal her to cut, cut away. It turned out okay, actually. Really. During the ensuing washing of my hair I even got an ear massage.
Armed with a haircut and massaged ears, I am ready to give a detailed account of my brief research of the South Korean dating scene. As with everything else in this world, the methods for guys and girls to meet are three. The first is called "hunTing", with a ridiculously exaggerated emphasis on the "T". It is equivalent to the western term of "pick-up", and pertains to an approach initiated by one sex towards the other, whatever the context may be. In Korea, however, this is a no-no. The Korean girls require a verification of the guy's good background and trustworthiness before engaging in the game. Hence, the second method - "sugeTing" (pronounced "soo-ge-Ting", and do not forget to hurt your tongue when pronouncing the "T", otherwise you will not be understood). SugeTing is a blind-date, and is the prevalent method of meeting in South-Korea. The third and last method is "meeTing", and is actually a multiple-participant blind-date - a group of guys and girls go out, and, hopefully, some will be coupled by the end of the night.
Since "hunTing" is widely considered as improper, subways, buses and even bars, swarming as they may be with the millions of the young of Seoul, are unfortunately of not much help to the Korean single men. They are completely dependent on the mercy of their close social circle. Thus, the match-making industry seems to be alive and kicking. However, some of its methods of work seem quite peculiar. For example, opposite my university campus there is an all-women university named Edwa University. The match-makers get hold of the graduation photos, pick the most beautiful girls, and contact them with suggestions of match-making. The Edwa girls, knowing that, take great care to prepare for their graduation photos... Who knows which doctor destiny holds in store for them?...
Beauty is important everywhere, but it seems as if in Korea it is given significantly more weight. According to the CEO of a major French cosmetics company, the South Korean women use more cosmetics products than any other nation on earth. Actually, they have a centuries-old tradition of skin-care. The rituals of saunas are imprinted in their genes and the scraping-off of dead skin is practically a national sport. No wonder that their skin is a source of envy for westerners. But as the oriental skin is admired by the western world, it seems that western face is equally looked up to by the Koreans. Since plastic surgery has not failed to gain hold on this ground, apart from the now-standard breast implant surgeries, Korean women also have their eye-lids fixed to have a western appearance and the ridge of their nose accentuated. And in this grueling, bloody battle which women fight for their beauty and over men's money, and which men fight for their money and over women's beauty, not much time or energy is left for much else.
Tidbits:
- I was fortunate enough to witness the historical visit of Mao Zedong's great grandson in Seoul. I was even more fortunate to have my photo taken with him.
- When my brother visited me he noticed something that I somehow let slip: Too many people were wearing glasses. And these aren't the regular, light glasses you're used to. These are heavy-duty, thick, black-rimmed glasses, somewhat reminiscent of the 60's, worn by men and women alike. A short inquiry led to the following finding: Many of these glasses are not optical at all, and have no effect on eye-sight. Women wear them to hide their eyes and faces when they have no makeup on. Men wear them as a trend - they believe they look better with them on, a view supported by the opposite sex. At first it seemed exotically odd to me, until I realized that it is not much different from the predominant sunglasses trend back home. See photo above.
- My breakfast normally consists of sticky-rice with tuna and Tabasco sauce. My flatmate complains that my diet is worse than inmates', but I fail to see what is wrong with a little backpacker asceticism.
