So, in the “real world,” or at least a world more filled with reality than college seemed to be, I’ve been noticing all kinds of strange things:

1. My electric bill comes every month with a superfluous piece of paper in the envelope that says “respect electric.” It sounds like a threat. It could be a new Connecticut rapper’s clever way of self-promoting, but I think it’s a threat.

2. Almost every public restroom I use has a sign that says “clean hands save lives.” Although I understand the intent behind these signs, it seems like a moral judgment. If you’re unclean, the life you save won’t be saved. It will be ruined. Tainted. Forever.

3. The reason the United States postal service is struggling is that post offices are only open from 10 to 4 on weekdays. This means only retirees and schoolchildren have access to traditional mail services. I’m pretty sure the reason my parents had four children was so that there would be someone at home able to go to the post office for them for a few years. It started in 2004 when I got my license, and will end when my brother moves out of the house. Seriously, how am I supposed to mail things?

4. If you’ve moved recently, have you noticed how most of those things you didn’t pack because you were sure you wouldn’t need them (and even if you did, they’d be easy to replace), turn out to be not only essential, but expensive?

That’s all I have for right now. What weird things have you noticed about life after Wellesley?

-Rose-Ellen, ‘09 VP

dy·nam·ic

adj.

Of or relating to energy or to objects in motion.
Characterized by continuous change, activity, or progress: a dynamic market.
Marked by intensity and vigor; forceful.

I remember distinctly and at times, fondly, what has become the catchphrase of this year’s EPIK orientation: “Korea is dynamic.” Literally, dynamic refers to Korea’s unquenchable thirst for improvement in education, technology and international prestige. Figuratively, dynamic refers to a culture that can be impetuous and inconsistent. The word dynamic is loaded with connotation both positive and negative but somehow resolves itself in neutrality; that is, it is characterized by a reconciliation of the good and the bad. In a similar vein, culture shock, for one of Asian descent, is less about adjusting to the unfamiliar but a reconciliation of the unfamiliar with the familiar—finding the middle ground between what you know and what you have never encountered before.

What is also particularly unique about the “Korea experience,” in respect to culture shock, is the time factor. Knowing that an experience is temporary and feeling the imminent deadline, evokes feelings that may not arise if the situation were different. For instance, the desire to automatically reject everything or the inability to have expectations is a mechanism to safeguard against the inevitable end. The path to “adjustment” is greatly dependent on one’s own mental faculties and involves much soul searching and self-discovery. It can be likened to diving through the depths of the deep seas, searching for that one translucent pearl of knowledge. In an idealistic situation, there would be an answer or cure to the mess of emotions that accompany the process of adjusting to unfamiliarity. But life isn’t idealistic; instead, adjustment follows organically when you stop obsessing about the specifics and let “dynamism” run its course.

I approached my placement in Gangwon-do with great trepidation. The feeling was exacerbated by the pitying glances and muffled chuckles that accompanied the requisite, “Well, Gangwon-do is really beautiful.” It also didn’t help that a week before my flight, a Google earth survey revealed a scarcity in housing but ubiquitous mountainous terrain, causing my enraged mother to yell: “what are you going to teach, chickens?” Therefore, prior to my arrival in Korea, I made a single promise to myself: expect the worst and the rest will follow. As orientation in Jeonju drew to a close and the 5-hour bus ride seemed imminent, I mentally prepared myself for some mutant hybrid of culture shock and comfort-zone displacement. I also grew attached to the idea of raising pet goats and riding a donkey to school. I suppose it was fortunate that my ignorant presuppositions never found any basis in reality.

My first meeting with my co-teacher was full of awkward silences, awkward bows but mostly incessant head scratching. Although she was proficient in English and knew enough Chinese and Japanese to apply competitively as a flight attendant for Korean Airlines, she was clearly uncomfortable speaking English with a native speaker. I could understand her reservation as I discovered a growing reluctance to use the little Korean I knew; although my reservation mainly stemmed from a realization that sareung-eh was not really helpful or useful in normal social settings. Meeting the principal, vice-principal and chief at all four of my schools was similarly awkward but more so because of the air of formality that necessitated more discomfort and fear of offense. Interestingly, these situations were not strange because they were culturally different but because they were unexpectedly normal. As silly as it may sound and because hindsight is 20/20, my expectation for culture shock meant that normalcy was strange, if not extraordinary. It’s not that cultural differences are non-existent, simply not as stark as people would like you to believe. Moreover, when you strip everything down to its basics, cultural differences are only blazingly obvious when you seek them out and make everyday living an exercise in “I spy a difference!”

That being said, my experience, so far, has not been particularly different from the typical foreigner’s experience. Granted, the typical foreigner probably would not receive “konichiwa” as a greeting or receive strange looks for speaking a language other than Korean. Still it has required me to resolve the familiar and unfamiliar. The Chinese culture bears striking similarities to the Korean culture and growing up in Flushing, New York provided me with many opportunities to gain exposure to Korean culture. In fact, I grew up eating the Kimchi my parents would buy at the local Korean supermarket. The urban layout of Korean cities is also reminiscent of Taiwan and barring the fact that there are Korean letters on all the storefronts, I sometimes feel as if I’m back in Taiwan. The unfamiliar never ceases to sneak up on me though. The language barrier has been a huge source of frustration, yet, there are times when I forget that I can’t communicate. I’m always reminded again when gesturing maniacally at a bus driver or a store clerk fails miserably and I’m forced to call a Korean-American friend for language assistance. Of course, many a bus attendant has given me dirty looks for inexplicably handing a cell-phone over to them and gesturing that they should put their face on my potential cesspool of swine flu bacteria. Nevertheless, it has been a struggle balancing between the familiar and unfamiliar because neither fails to catch me off-guard.

Culture shock, then, means meandering through the three phases unable to find a category to fit into; it means constantly grappling with an elusive identity and role that is never explicitly defined and relatively unacknowledged. Like a mulatto straddling the color line, never falling into either category, I am not Asian in the sense that I am not native Korean, yet I am not a bonafide foreigner because I am Asian. Simply put, theoretical jargon aside, culture shock for me is unique because it does not really constitute as culture shock; it’s identity shock—uncertainty about identity exacerbated by a hesitance for adjustment.

At this crossroad in life, a person has two choices: accept or reject. Those that have rejected are termed rejectors; those who have adjusted in a “healthy” fashion are termed cosmopolitans. But what about those who neither accept nor reject; the ones who straddle ambiguity; the ones who have not quite decided where they fall? As cliché as it may sound, the only thing you can do is find the little joys in life, the little moments that make you laugh because of their sheer absurdity. Like walking into a Family Mart and standing by the stickers arguing with your friend about how you just have to have this one Pororo sticker and then sheepishly explaining that you’re American and not mentally challenged. Like picking up what you think is a dead tennis ball, throwing it around for awhile, only to look up into the eyes of two frightened children, who really shouldn’t have been at the school after dusk anyways. Like running into building supervisor in the elevator, laughing awkwardly at the Korean he’s continuously throwing at you then somehow offending him because you reached your apartment floor and decided that going home was more important than continuing the one-sided conversation.

Dealing with culture shock is an individual endeavor, one you undertake independent of those around you. There is no prescribed cure; no set formula for success. There is only self-adjustment. The path you walk may be solitary but along the way empathy and sympathy provide respite. Even now, close to one month in, I cannot say I have fully transitioned to the “adjustment” phase. The unfamiliar will always rear its ugly head when you least expect it. In fact, situations like, walking along a highway, with cut-up feet because the bus drivers here expect you to jump off the bus and now you’re walking half a mile to school, 5 minutes late instead of 15 minutes early, cursing the situation you’re in and suddenly realizing that sidewalks are truly god’s gift to earth, will probably be a regular occurrence. But it’s okay to be bitter and nostalgic; as long as you realize that at the end of the day it’s just you against the world and you better suck it up before it sucks you up.

Korea is indeed dynamic, although, it is sometimes so dynamic it can be overwhelming. Sometimes I will walk out of a classroom, running my hands through my hair, frustrated at the lack of progress and ironically remark, “well, Korea is dynamic.” Sometimes, in a moment of sheer awe, looking down at Gangwon-do from Ulsan Rock, I will gasp out, “wow, Korea is dynamic.” To some extent, the literal meaning of the phrase has lost all relevance. Instead, it is a phrase that has come to symbolize all the various emotions I have had and continue to have in my time here in Korea. It is frustrating, it is overwhelming, it is awkward but most of all it sure is and has been dynamic.

- Gloria Liu ‘09

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a 1L student at UConn Law School. In a lot of ways it’s very similar to Wellesley. There’s Gothic architecture, and those stupid, pretty windows that let in plenty of cold air along with the light are everywhere. There are a number of student orgs, and thousands of eager 1L students run for student government, while the upper classes don’t seem to interested in the system. It’s a beautiful campus, and I’m lucky to be here.

However, UConn Law is located in Hartford.

My little sister was at Trinity College, so I had some idea that Hartford was not the nicest city in the world. On arriving to UConn (located in the West End, the nicest part of the city), reality drop-kicked me pretty hard. Hartford is consistently ranked as one of the top three poorest cities in the nation, despite being in one of the wealthiest states. Nearly a quarter of the population lives below the poverty line. Even in the ‘nice’ area, it’s easy to see how tough things are. Two days into classes, one of my fellow students was mugged. Three days into classes, the mayor of Hartford turned himself over to police to face corruption charges. This place cannot catch a break.

I never wanted to live in Connecticut. I’m a Masshole born and raised, and I miss the Bay State fiercely. But something about the potential to actually do good here strikes me more than it ever did as an undergrad.

At UConn, like at Wellesley, we refer to the campus as a bubble. But the students here (though only your humble blogger hails from Wellesley) do their best to affect change. They take the commitment to pro bono work very seriously.

Even if I miss everything about Wellesley (and I do), there’s one thing I don’t have to miss-the commitment to service. It seems like the commitment to ministering is going to follow us wherever we go. Which is just as well.

- Rose-Ellen, ‘09 VP

Labor Day has come and gone, and I’m not scrambling to move into a new dorm room or buy books. It feels totally surreal for the school year to start again . . . without me! I know that there are quite a few ‘09-ers who are taking the plunge into various graduate school pursuits, but I imagine even that feels totally different.

Where do you find yourself in September 2009?

-Anna, ‘09 Secretary

I expected that returning to Boston would be the easiest transition to make after Wellesley. Since coming back, however, I’ve discovered the true nature of this transient city. Learning to let go of my expectations for familiarity has been the most difficult transition to gain familiarity with. Spending time with other young alums has been incredibly helpful in the process. Luckily, the WCAB Young Alumnae have planned a slate of events for the fall that kick off this week. Descriptions of the two August 2009 events are below. ‘09 in greater Boston, I hope to see you there!

LANDMARKS ORCHESTRA HATCH SHELL CONCERT
When: Wednesday, August 19 at 7pm
Where: Hatch Shell on the Esplanade, Charles River, Boston
Cost: FREE
RSVP: youngalums@wellesleyboston.org
Description: The Longwood Symphony Orchestra will be performing Music of the Stars, featuring Mars from Holst’s The Planets, music from Star Wars by John Williams, and Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major. Bring a blanket or a chair and come listen to some music on the Esplanade. We will be meeting at the bottom of the Fiedler Footbridge, the beige bridge that connects Beacon Street to the Esplanade over Storrow Drive, at 6:45pm.

INTER-COLLEGE ALUM EVENT
When: Wednesday, August 26 from 6-8pm
Where: Bell in Hand Tavern in the private room upstairs @ 45 Union Street near Faneuil Hall and the Government Center T stop
Cost: Cash Bar
RSVP: youngalums@wellesleyboston.org (Please remember to RSVP if you plan on attending so your name can be added to the list)
Description: Come network and socialize after work with young alums from Cornell, Williams, Middlebury, Amherst, Bowdoin, and other liberal arts colleges. This will be the first of hopefully many inter-collegiate events of the year.

As a resident of Claflin, Beebe, Severance, and Tower West, I always bemoaned the sorry existence of dorm living. The kitchens were small and filled with the messes of others, the showers were plagued by hairballs, and some portion of my floor or furniture would have an odd stain from an unknown and sinister source.

I now live in a cute little duplex apartment with two great friends, Suzi Claflin ‘09 and Erin Fuller. We even have a little sitting area in the backyard where we rigged up some christmas lights and an mp3 player. I will likely never live in a dormitory again. But that doesn’t mean that apartment living is problem-free.

For one, I don’t have a real closet. Technically speaking, my room is equipped with a closet, but it is a one-foot deep indention in the wall with a bar screwed in place. It is too shallow to hang normal hangers, there is no door, and light shines through it from the kitchen because its construction was so obviously an afterthought.

This wouldn’t be a big deal, except that I have a job that requires business attire. I have to hang things, or risk being nicknamed Wrinkles (or something even less flattering). Feeling clever, I bought a freestanding wardrobe. Feeling less clever, I realized that it was too big to make the turn into my bedroom from the hallway. I now dress in the dining room every morning.

More recently, I attempted to clean the bathroom. I am not especially squeamish about bathroom cleaning, and I even pulled a handful of nasty hair and soap scum out of the drain. I figured that the whole process would be a total no-brainer, I expected nothing but praise and glory for my unselfishness – and maybe some kind of roommate of the year award. Instead, in trying to clean the drain, I managed to clog it to such an extent that Erin had to spend an afternoon with Drano and a plunger. It wasn’t my finest moment.

You see, the apartment is still very much a work in progress, as am I as a brand-new apartment dweller. I think I’ll make it, but it has definitely given me an appreciation for the “good old days” at the College.

– Anna, ‘09 Secretary

I stepped out of the shower this evening and, after I had grabbed my towel, I wasted five or ten minutes staring at myself in the mirror. This is not because I think I’m particularly lovely, but rather because over the past few months, beginning in January as my final Wintersession ended, I’ve developed acne.

Allow me to explain. All through high school, and most of college, my skin was clean and clear (pun intended). I was an object of loathing because of my lack of breakouts. While my friends avoided astronomers, fearful of jokes comparing them to various crater-ridden moons, I was blisfully pimple-free.

No more. Now there’s a swath of little red bumps that mar my forehead, and nothing I do can banish them for long. How is this possible? For heaven’s sake, I’ve graduated from college! Why is it that I seem to be regressing?

Before graduation, even before the start of senior year, I thought that leaving Wellesley would be the magical signal that would transform me into a Grown Up Person. After all, when you finish college you’re supposed to have a job, independence, confidence, the whole package. Instead, I’m writing a blog update from my old bedroom in my parents’ house, unable to find even temporary summer employment. I’m twenty one, almost twenty two, and I still feel like a child. I even look like one.

Perhaps these spots have been brought on by the stress that accompanies this pervasive feeling of failure. On the other hand, maybe they’re a reminder that, even though I’m back in the Real World, ostensibly a Grown Up Person, there is still a lot of room for growth. And maybe I should remember that growing, like everything else except instant coffee, takes time.

–Rose-Ellen, ‘09 VP

During this event, we will hold our first alumnae meeting and vote to ratify the Alumnae Class of 2009 Constitution.

Senior Gift information was announced today! Details can be found here. With a minimum donation of $5, you receive a Class of 2009 champagne flute. As an added bonus, everyone who submits their gift before midnight 12/15  will be entered in a raffle for prizes which include a $25 gift certificate to the GAP. Let’s try to reach 100% participation! 

The link to make your donation is: 
https://www.wellesley.edu/Resources_giftnew/giftform.html.