Beth Salerno

First, the vast majority of them are “migrant labor” (although here in Korea that term always implies a non-white person).  Whether from the U.K., New Zealand, Australia, Canada or the U.S.A., people come to Korea to make money that they can take back home.  Huge numbers come to teach English, since until this year Korea did not require any credentials other than native-speaking ability.  The adjunct professor of English mentioned above had taught in America for three years and could not make enough money to cover her rent.  Here she teaches 6 hours a day to elementary and middle school students, makes 3 times her previous salary, and has sent her first novel off to a publisher.  Many young people are paying off their student loans; a few couples are paying down their mortgages.  There is a whole economic world here I never imagined when I finished college! 

Second, the Korean language level of most expats is pretty terrible.  I was amazed to discover my seriously limited Korean is better than 80% of the people I have traveled with, despite their sometimes far longer residence.  I had not realized how much of a gift living outside Seoul can be.  In Seoul, a foreigner can find just about everything in English and can live within a foreign enclave that requires little interaction with Koreans.  When you spend all day teaching English and all night with English teachers, when would you speak Korean?

Third, every expat knows a different Korea.  One U.S. army soldier is an unwilling expert on the drug and prostitution culture of northern South Korea due to his required policing of his platoon’s weekend activities.  English teachers who have seriously dated Koreans have learned family hierarchies, dating customs, and the perils of cross-cultural communication.  I’ve met a few scholars of ancient Korea and many students of modern Korean bar culture.  Once again living outside Seoul makes a huge difference - those within Seoul often seem completely unaware of basic customs I have come to take for granted, while those from rural areas tell me customs I thought outdated are still alive near them.

I did not expect to travel the world while living in Korea.  But long bus rides have turned into explorations of Colombian cities, tours of South Africa’s coasts, descriptions of Pyeongyang now and 10 years ago, comparisons of Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia, and introductions to Japanese culture.   I’ve heard about little gardens in Berlin, and seen pictures of sand-scrubbed cities in Yemen.

Globalization has taken on new meaning for me here.  We ignore the world to our political peril in the United States.  But we also ignore it to our cultural peril.  What a different person I might have been if I’d known that one could bounce from country to country, teaching English, learning about the best of each culture and bringing back such richness to inform my life.  What a different country we would be if many of our citizens did that, or if we openly welcomed other citizens to bring what they have to us.