Assumptions about the produce section

Like in Russia, shopping for groceries has been one of the more challenging things. As a consumer, when I know the language written on packaging, I like to look at ingredients, calorie content, and the like. By the time I left Russia, I knew enough of the language that I was almost back to how I shopped in the States, but in Korea, I am starting from scratch. As I am just learning the alphabet, it is difficult to sound out the ingredients, let alone understand the words I’m sounding out. Yet, through it all, I have managed to avoid mistakes similar to those I made in Russia. When I bought milk, I actually bought milk … But a whole new set of issues has arisen.

So far, most of my grocery shopping has been in large hypermarkets, comparable to a super Wal-Mart. Finding products in the store can be a challenge, simply because the place is huge. Also, signage in English doesn’t always lead me to the right place. I saw a sign that read “Fresh Dairy” and in the case under the sign were processed meat products. It made me wonder why they even had English signage!

Surprisingly, through it all, one of the most confusing things has been the produce section of the grocery store. In Russia this was a bit confusing as well, but in a different way.

Generally in Russia there were loose bins of produce, whether it be apples, potatoes, carrots, bananas, etc. Like in the States, you grab a plastic bag and fill it with your selected amount of produce, but unlike the States, the produce is not weighed by the cashier at check out. Instead, you should take your produce to a scale – sometimes there is a person to weigh and label it for you and sometimes you have to weigh and label it yourself. Overall, the Russian system was only a bit intimidating, with the major question being, do I need to weigh this myself or is there someone to weigh it for me?

In Korea, at a hypermarket, things are a bit different. Almost all produce is pre-bagged, though there are some loose things – like potatoes, occasionally onions, and the like. The loose produce obviously needs to be weighed, and there is a woman who will weigh it for you. The pre-bagged produce with prices is also no trouble. It is the pre-bagged produce without prices marked that is the confusing and intimidating part. In Russia, these needed to be weighed along with everything else, so that was my assumption. In order to avoid the confusing ordeal of being at the cashier and having to go get something weighed, I went to the lady by the scale and gave her my pre-bagged broccoli. She took it, walked over to where the broccoli was displayed, and put it away.

Fail.

Because I was a bit embarrassed about this result, I didn’t go pick up the broccoli again. I just decided that I didn’t really need it and continued walking around the produce section a bit thrown.

The next time I went to the grocery store I found things were not as confusing as I had made them. Anything pre-bagged with a UPC has a set price and the cashier just scans it like any other product. It turns out in this case that my experience in Russia actually hindered my understanding.

A ridiculous assumption ...

When I got on my first bus here in Ulsan, I noticed a small pouch attached to a bar on what would be considered the passengers’ side of the bus. The pouch was made out of a synthetic, burlap like material and had a loosely woven window which showed its contents. It seemed to hold some small, colored, oval rocks and dangled as we went down the road. My first thought was, huh, strange. I wonder what that is? Maybe a good luck charm or something to protect passengers and drivers?

The next bus I got in, in the same place, I saw the same type of pouch only it was a different color material, with different colored “eggs” in it. This seemed to reaffirm my hypothesis that it was something to do with travel because I hadn’t seen them anywhere else. Not indoors, only in vehicles, particularly buses.

Finally, I noticed a similar pouch in my co-director’s van. It was hanging from the rear view mirror, but contained something which looked like coffee beans. Now, anyone in a different frame of mind, that hadn’t already carved a misconception into stone, would have recognized this for what it was. But, in my made up world, where I had hypothesized a good luck charm and felt it had been reiterated, I furthered my assumption. But research is not only direct observation, so I conducted an interview.

I asked a very leading question, “What is that? Some sort of good luck charm? I’ve also seen them in the bus.” Of course, I was trying to support my previous assumption, rather than remain open to all possible outcomes.

Bless my co-director for not laughing at me or thinking my assumption was silly. She just said, “It’s supposed to make it smell good.”

All the sudden I realized how ridiculous my hypothesis and assumed conclusion had been. It was based not on actual observation, or thorough investigation, but on what little I know of talisman in my own culture and what I know about beliefs in Russian culture. I had made a jump of logic that turned out to be kind of silly. Granted in the States people hang rosaries and Russians had icons in their vehicles so maybe it wasn’t too far of a stretch, but what else hangs on a rear view mirror that is in no way associated with religion? Air fresheners.

The image that popped into my mind immediately after my co-director answered the question was the tree shaped air fresheners people have in the States being interpreted as a good luck charm or some type of talisman. The tree god that protects your car … I wonder how many other assumptions I have made like this that have gone unchecked …?

A tracking device that squeaks

Parents occasionally lose children and children parents. They get separated in stores and markets for various reasons. Usually the consumer goods and marketing surrounding parents and children pull them apart. So far this seems to be universal. Kids get lost, it happens. The difference between cultures seems to be how to prevent this … In Moscow, the solution seemed to be to leave children at home or hold their hand tightly. In the States, one solution is the ridiculous contraption of a child leash, which securely tethers a parent to their child via a “cute” backpack that the child wants to wear. In Korea, I have yet to see how most parents prevent losing children, but one solution made me laugh.

As I sat with the director of my school, eating fastfood/junk from Korea’s version of McDonald’s, Lotteria, waiting for my passport photos to develop, I heard a slightly obnoxious ‘squeaky, squeak, squeeak’. I thought, what in the world is that?! It sounded like someone had a dog toy and was just trying to be annoying with it. I looked up and saw a small boy bouncing on his shoes … ‘squeak, squeak’ with each step he took, this squeak occurred. I couldn’t help but giggle. At first I thought this must have been a cruel joke played by a family friend. Give the child some squeaky shoes to aggravate his parents. Then, as I talked to my director, and she made the comment that you sure wouldn’t lose your child that way, I realized she was right. What a hilarious tracking device.

The boy especially enjoyed the amused faces of people around him when they noticed he was making the noise. Looks of surprise, smiles, and laughter were the reaction, and he responded to this amusement accordingly by making louder squeaks, longer squeaks, and running around more than needed. While in some circumstances this noise would have caused much annoyance, the idea that this little kid squeaked with every step continued to make me laugh. Something tickled a funny bone, and I couldn’t help but laughing the entire time the child was around. What a great solution to keeping track of a wandering child. Though I guess the parent would need to be prepared to endure performances of squeaking!

Life as a foreigner

The first couple days I was here, I definitely was in the honeymoon stage. The people at my school are super nice, my apartment is amazing, and being an “obvious” foreigner makes it easy for people to understand that I didn’t know any Korean, so they have been willing to accommodate. Yet, being an obvious foreigner also has its drawbacks, and my first experience of being considered something other than human was when the honeymoon stage began to wear off.

After my Starbucks, internet outing yesterday, I wandered around to explore the area of the city around it, called Samsan-dong. It’s across the river from where I live and is has two huge malls similar to Gum or Tzum (Гум или Цум) in Moscow. Because it is Chuseok, the Korean harvest festival, many of the smaller boutiques I found were closed, which is probably a good thing since I need to wait until I get paid to go shopping. After wandering this part of town with people staring but otherwise being generally polite, I wandered back over to the Lotte Department Store (one of the Gum type places, where they sell Dior, Chanel, etc.) At the main entrance of the building is a large courtyard, and I walked out to the courtyard, found a bench, and sat down. Something interesting had popped into my head that I just needed to write down, and the courtyard seemed inviting enough.

I had not been sitting there for two minutes when a man sat next to me. I didn’t even look up, because in Moscow people do this because there is no other place to sit and looking up may attract unwanted attention. Why shouldn’t he be able to sit on the same bench as me? It’s not MY bench. Anyway, I soon heard the distinct sound of an SLR click, so I looked up and realized this man had sat next to me, not because of a lack of other places to sit, but because he wanted his friend to take a picture of him with this white foreigner. He quickly left the bench after the photograph was taken and headed back over to his group of friends chuckling. It did not take me long to stop making notes, change my tone, and feel a bit violated. Would it have been different if he had asked my permission? Probably not. But in this circumstance I felt as though I were a tourist attraction, not a person. I should have shouted at them about how rude it was – even if they didn’t know English. I should have stood my ground so as to hopefully prevent this from happening to another unsuspecting foreigner, but I didn’t. I just got up a bit flustered and walked away.

Funny how the age of the man made an impression – if he were young, I might have blown it off as some kids having fun. If I were in a social mood, I might even have insisted that I pose with them instead of being bent over writing. But because the man was middle aged, maybe even close to forty, I just thought it was plain rude. I guess I have some tolerance to build and some standing out to get used to. In Moscow, I was usually assumed to be Russian until I opened my mouth, especially after having adjusted my dress and style.

As I thought back through my experience of the day, I realized that maybe I am being a bit strange. Most foreigners I have seen, in fact, most people I have seen are not wandering around alone. They are with someone else. They are protected by the oblivion of social interaction.

– As far as the staring goes, I also stare at foreigners … but my motivation is, I wonder if they are nice? I wonder if we could be friends?

Ridiculous comparison number three: Parking

In the U.S. we are used to organized, orderly parking. In fact, we are near obsessed with it. We have meter maids whose sole job is to make sure no one’s car has overstayed its welcome in a particular parking space or even a particular block. Nearly everyone has a story about themselves or someone they know who has parked temporarily in a place they shouldn’t have, gone inside for “just a second” only to find their car gone (towed and impounded) when they return.

In Moscow parking seemed to be a competitive, nerve-racking sport. Who can be the most creative with their parking? Who can squeeze into that last little bit of curb, even if it is on the corner of an intersection. Who can take up just the right amount of the sidewalk? How long can you double park? Multiple times I had students tell me at the beginning of class that they may have to leave to go move their car if they get a phone call. And when a car accident was heard outside, my students would jump to the window and look down to see if their car had survived. Aside from accidents which are unpredictable and a part of everyday life in Moscow, the policy was, if you don’t want a dent or worse in your car from double parking, leave your number on the windshield of your car. That way you can easily be contacted. What did people do before cell phones?!

So far in Ulsan, parking has impressed me. Not only are people fairly courteous to drivers who are waiting for a parking place, but even “scary” drivers seem to be able to squeeze into the smallest parking places. Parking spaces in parking lots are smaller than in Russia and the U.S. and maybe they have to be. Korea does have a relatively small landmass. It makes me wonder how the parking section of driver’s ed goes in Korea … if there even is driver’s ed! While there seem to be slight differences between parking in Moscow and in Ulsan, the surprising thing is that leaving a phone number is fairly common practice … only Koreas have come up with a twist on leaving a phone number.

When I got picked up from the airport, I noticed a funny little cross-stitched pillow on the driver’s side of the dash board. It was visible from the road and all around, and I thought, “Huh, that’s sort of a silly little pillow.” It reminded me of cars in the U.S. that are decorated with all sorts of things inside, from fuzzy dice to dancing hoola ladies to expensive, collectable stickers. Only, this pillow stood out because it was the only kitschy thing inside this van. Other than the pillow, there wasn’t any collection of things or junk on the dashboard or elsewhere in the van. I took a small mental note, and didn’t consider it again until I went out to find the bus the next morning. That’s when I saw another car with a small pillow on the driver’s side of the dashboard. When I got closer, I noticed it had a phone number. I thought, “Brilliant! Rather than leaving a crumby handwritten note that could be washed away by the rain or easily dismissed as an advertisement, Korean drivers have embroidered pillows with their phone number.” Wow. While the presentation isn’t something I would prefer, the idea is fabulous. After that, I kept noticing these “contact pillows” everyone’s was unique and some had “Sorry”, yes, written in English on them.

Perhaps we should adapt this practice of double parking and leaving a number in the U.S. Of course you would have to convince the government that there may be a better way to spend public funds than meter maids, and you definitely would have to be in a larger city than Blackfoot … but it’s an idea ;)