Park's grandmother died last Sunday, and, while it was in no way unexpected, it was still a difficult time for everyone. I've written before about Korean funerals, and now I'm going to write some more, based on my experience. Last time I attended a funeral, I was just a visitor. Now, I was part of the family, and it was much more difficult. One could even say brutal or grueling.
In my experience, American funerals are a rather simple affair. There is a wake or viewing at a funeral home, followed by some sort of memorial service or funeral Mass and then the burial. Funeral homes tend to be somber in color, filled with cushy chairs and tissue-stocked alcoves, where mourners can converse in private. Wakes are held at certain hours, during which visitors can offer their condolences to the family and catch a last glimpse of the deceased, whose body is tastefully displayed, perhaps robed in a favorite outfit and clasping some sweet-smelling flowers.
Korean funerals are completely different.
As I've mentioned before, Korean funerals last three days, and those
three days begin as soon as the person has died. There is so much to
arrange and to do that there is an entire industry built around the
planning and efficient running of funerals. All large hospitals in Korea
have a separate wing of what we would call funeral homes, although they
are very different from our Western idea of a funeral home. Since many funerals could be happening at once, each family gets their own hall.
Our first evening was spent planning and preparing the hall. We set up the tables and arranged plates as best we could. The funeral planning company provided all of the supplies, including clothing for us to wear. The men wore suits and the women wore black hanbok. I found the hanbok to be quite comfortable, actually. By midnight, all of the preparations were complete, and the family was ready to sleep. According to Korean tradition, the family must stay with the body until burial.
By 7 AM the next day, everyone was up and hard at work. Flowers and even a few visitors were arriving. We hired a crew of ladies to prepare and serve food for the guests (and essential part of every funeral). By far the most emotionally difficult part is what came next. Around 10 o'clock, we gathered in the mortician's room to watch them prepare the body for burial. To me, this was a beautiful and special moment. Many years ago, when Park's grandmother was still healthy, she had made her own burial clothing for herself and for her husband. It was beautifully made in the Buddhist tradition, and every detail and necessary article had been considered. As they dressed her, I thought that, really, death isn't anything to be afraid of. Meet it as you would an other part of your life. Park's grandmother was prepared for this moment; she was not afraid. Her body was wrapped in several layers of cloth and then tied up like a package with strips of colored cloth arranged in patterns, almost like flowers. They placed her in a simple coffin, and then attached several prayers to the outside as a way of keeping her body safe. It was a difficult moment for the entire family.
The rest of the day was spent in the back-breaking work of greeting and feeding visitors, hundreds of visitors.
At the entrance of the funeral hall is a shoe closet (one must always remove one's shoes) and a desk where a member of the family will greet visitors, and visitors can sign their name in the guest book and leave a donation to help defray the cost of the funeral (a very practical and wonderful tradition that we should adopt in the West, by the way). After entering, visitors must pay their respects to the deceased. In Korea, they do not display the body. Rather, most people at some point in their lives will take what is called a "funeral portrait". This portrait is to be displayed at the funeral. It's a nice way to help remember that person as they were before they became sick.
At a Buddhist funeral, visitors first light a stick of incense then bow to the ground twice and then once at the waist. Protestants refuse to bow because they think it's idolatry, so they lay flowers instead. Once you're done paying your respects to the dead, then you bow to the ground in greeting to the family. They will likewise bow back. I thought this part was especially hard on Park's family. The men of the family are responsible for greeting visitors, which means that Park's father and uncles (and sometimes he and his brothers) were getting up and down almost constantly throughout the day. A tiny closet of a room was set aside for family members to rest out of sight of visitors, but hardly anyone had the time to use it. The visits were never-ending and only increased as the day went on and approached dinner time. We had to rent out two halls just to fit all of the people.
Unfortunately, my narration has to end here. I had a violent allergic reaction to the incense, and had to go home. By the end of the day, my skin and eyes were burning, red, and swollen, and I could barely see. Park drove me home. Around 6 AM, Park was brought home too. After working until 3 AM, he had taken a short nap and woken to discover that he couldn't open his eyes because they burned so much. His brother had to lead him into our house. Final funeral rites began at 4:30 AM, and the family departed for the burial site on the family mountain at 7. Grandmother was laid to rest next to her husband. A local temple will continue to pray for her soul for the next 100 days. Park and I had to miss all of this, though, because we were both physically incapable of seeing.
As I said, Korean funerals are hard.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Monday, August 24, 2015
This title is purposely vague
One of the most difficult things about living abroad is the realization that life back in your home country does not stop when you leave it behind for awhile. You cannot press the pause button and then hit resume when you're ready to go back. That was difficult for me to understand at first, but now I really enjoy surveying the social landscape and seeing how my many friends and acquaintances have progressed since we last me. We are becoming adults, a thought that used to terrify me in my early 20s, but now I find exciting.
I have friends who have studied and worked all over the world, from Russia, to Austria, Nicaragua, Liberia, England, Ireland, and even Iceland. I have a friend who is living her dual dream of raising exotic reptiles while working as a researcher at the Field Museum in Chicago. I have at least three friends who are becoming priests, and one friend who is about to become a Dominican nun. I have friends who are studying to become doctors, nurses, and teachers. I have friends who are budding writers and philosophers, journalists, actors, fashion designers, and even one friend who works on Broadway. Many of my friends have gotten married, and I've had to miss the weddings and rely on photographs to see the joy of their union. Some of my friends even have children of their own, and are proving to be the excellent parents we always knew they could be. In my own family, we've seen quite a few marriages and even more births. I ache to hold and play with the chidren, knowing that if I don't come back soon, I'll forever be only a distant aunt or cousin.
Life is wonderful, ever-changing. I came to Korea a little more than 3 years ago. I was almost 23 years old, fresh out of college, and my primary concerns were the last vestiges of late-blooming teenage angst and whether I would find a good place for Liturgical Music. That was three years ago. Since then, I've become a pretty good teacher, a bomb cook, and the proud owner of two cats (a kitten followed me home a few days ago) and a hamster. Two years and a half years ago, I met a man at a hookah bar in Gangnam. A year later, he traveled all the way to America to meet my family. Shortly after, he asked me to marry him. Seven months ago, I married that man. And in February, we'll be expecting the newest addition to our family.
My dearest friends and family (the people who read this blog, I guess.), we're having a baby!
*applause*
Now, I'm sure you all have a lot of questions, so I'll go ahead and answer them now.
Yes, we will have our baby in Korea. There's a lot of reasons for that. For one, it's a lot cheaper. Second, the care here is really excellent. There's a top-notch women's hospital near our house, where I can go for all of my check-ups, etc. Our doctor is very professional, and she speaks English, which is really a must. Each check-up starts with an ultrasound, and the video of the ultrasound is saved, so I can go back to watch it later on my phone. They also LOVE to do tests, so we've had to say no to a number of them, simply because they are so unnecessary. (Why test for Down Syndrome? Would you really love your baby any less if it were disabled? If so, you probably shouldn't be a parent.) After giving birth, most Korean women spend 2 to 3 weeks in a recovery hospital. They take care of all of your needs and help you out with all baby-care. I think it's a great way to help women recover, rather than our American way of rushing you out the door. I plan to stay in one for at least a week, until my mom arrives to help out.
Pregnancy in Korea is a Big Deal. That is the advantage of having a baby in a country with a low birth-rate, I guess. I have received care packages from several government agencies in addition to 500 dollars to be used for pregnancy-related medical expenses. The community health center also provides free pre-natal vitamins and a plethora of also free child-care classes. The Seoul Metro has specially reserved pregnant women seats, which these days have been color-coded bright pink. Random people, upon hearing that I'm pregnant will offer me special foods, and certain adjummas have developed a tendency to pat my butt. In some cases, it's become rather overwhelming. While all of this attention is well-meaning, I don't like being told, "you should rest more" (if I slept any more, I would be a bear) or "make sure you eat healthy" (yes, I'll get right on that after I finish throwing up), or "don't carry things" (are you volunteering to carry everything for me now?) or (my favorite) "don't dance around so much", as if the sudden movement of my body will somehow damage our baby. At seven weeks of pregnancy, I was even barred from going down a water slide. These days, I feel like a Special Citizen. Sometimes it's good, but mostly I wish people would realize that I'm still a normal person.
Park's family is, naturally, incredibly excited. This will be their very first grandchild. Park's mother is always stopping by with some fresh fruit. She buys me peaches by the pound. Park's father delights in taking us out to eat whatever it is I crave. Sadly, I mostly crave American food, so he can't always help me there. My parents are also excited, but in a different way. This will be their tenth grandchild, after all. At least they're experience!
We don't know the gender yet, though we're pretty sure we will be able to tell by our next check-up (I'm at 16 weeks now). Korea is a little bit awkward, though. Even though abortion is illegal, some unscrupulous people might still be inclined to get one if the baby's gender isn't what they'd hoped. Therefore, doctors in Korea aren't allowed to specifically tell you the gender of your baby. They can, however, give you hints. For example: "Hey doctor, should I buy blue or pink clothing?" "You should buy blue." Bam. The doctor has told you the gender without telling you the gender. You're good to go.
Finally, I'm sure there is some curiosity about what citizenship our baby will have. Korea does citizenship by blood, whereas American does citizenship by blood and location. Therefore, as a half-Korean, half-American, our baby will be granted dual citizenship. Of course, if it's a boy and he wants to stay a Korean citizen, that also means he will have to join the army when he gets older. But that's something to worry about later.
Well, I think that covers everything. Until next time, ta ta.
I have friends who have studied and worked all over the world, from Russia, to Austria, Nicaragua, Liberia, England, Ireland, and even Iceland. I have a friend who is living her dual dream of raising exotic reptiles while working as a researcher at the Field Museum in Chicago. I have at least three friends who are becoming priests, and one friend who is about to become a Dominican nun. I have friends who are studying to become doctors, nurses, and teachers. I have friends who are budding writers and philosophers, journalists, actors, fashion designers, and even one friend who works on Broadway. Many of my friends have gotten married, and I've had to miss the weddings and rely on photographs to see the joy of their union. Some of my friends even have children of their own, and are proving to be the excellent parents we always knew they could be. In my own family, we've seen quite a few marriages and even more births. I ache to hold and play with the chidren, knowing that if I don't come back soon, I'll forever be only a distant aunt or cousin.
Life is wonderful, ever-changing. I came to Korea a little more than 3 years ago. I was almost 23 years old, fresh out of college, and my primary concerns were the last vestiges of late-blooming teenage angst and whether I would find a good place for Liturgical Music. That was three years ago. Since then, I've become a pretty good teacher, a bomb cook, and the proud owner of two cats (a kitten followed me home a few days ago) and a hamster. Two years and a half years ago, I met a man at a hookah bar in Gangnam. A year later, he traveled all the way to America to meet my family. Shortly after, he asked me to marry him. Seven months ago, I married that man. And in February, we'll be expecting the newest addition to our family.
My dearest friends and family (the people who read this blog, I guess.), we're having a baby!
*applause*
Now, I'm sure you all have a lot of questions, so I'll go ahead and answer them now.
Yes, we will have our baby in Korea. There's a lot of reasons for that. For one, it's a lot cheaper. Second, the care here is really excellent. There's a top-notch women's hospital near our house, where I can go for all of my check-ups, etc. Our doctor is very professional, and she speaks English, which is really a must. Each check-up starts with an ultrasound, and the video of the ultrasound is saved, so I can go back to watch it later on my phone. They also LOVE to do tests, so we've had to say no to a number of them, simply because they are so unnecessary. (Why test for Down Syndrome? Would you really love your baby any less if it were disabled? If so, you probably shouldn't be a parent.) After giving birth, most Korean women spend 2 to 3 weeks in a recovery hospital. They take care of all of your needs and help you out with all baby-care. I think it's a great way to help women recover, rather than our American way of rushing you out the door. I plan to stay in one for at least a week, until my mom arrives to help out.
Pregnancy in Korea is a Big Deal. That is the advantage of having a baby in a country with a low birth-rate, I guess. I have received care packages from several government agencies in addition to 500 dollars to be used for pregnancy-related medical expenses. The community health center also provides free pre-natal vitamins and a plethora of also free child-care classes. The Seoul Metro has specially reserved pregnant women seats, which these days have been color-coded bright pink. Random people, upon hearing that I'm pregnant will offer me special foods, and certain adjummas have developed a tendency to pat my butt. In some cases, it's become rather overwhelming. While all of this attention is well-meaning, I don't like being told, "you should rest more" (if I slept any more, I would be a bear) or "make sure you eat healthy" (yes, I'll get right on that after I finish throwing up), or "don't carry things" (are you volunteering to carry everything for me now?) or (my favorite) "don't dance around so much", as if the sudden movement of my body will somehow damage our baby. At seven weeks of pregnancy, I was even barred from going down a water slide. These days, I feel like a Special Citizen. Sometimes it's good, but mostly I wish people would realize that I'm still a normal person.
Park's family is, naturally, incredibly excited. This will be their very first grandchild. Park's mother is always stopping by with some fresh fruit. She buys me peaches by the pound. Park's father delights in taking us out to eat whatever it is I crave. Sadly, I mostly crave American food, so he can't always help me there. My parents are also excited, but in a different way. This will be their tenth grandchild, after all. At least they're experience!
We don't know the gender yet, though we're pretty sure we will be able to tell by our next check-up (I'm at 16 weeks now). Korea is a little bit awkward, though. Even though abortion is illegal, some unscrupulous people might still be inclined to get one if the baby's gender isn't what they'd hoped. Therefore, doctors in Korea aren't allowed to specifically tell you the gender of your baby. They can, however, give you hints. For example: "Hey doctor, should I buy blue or pink clothing?" "You should buy blue." Bam. The doctor has told you the gender without telling you the gender. You're good to go.
Finally, I'm sure there is some curiosity about what citizenship our baby will have. Korea does citizenship by blood, whereas American does citizenship by blood and location. Therefore, as a half-Korean, half-American, our baby will be granted dual citizenship. Of course, if it's a boy and he wants to stay a Korean citizen, that also means he will have to join the army when he gets older. But that's something to worry about later.
Well, I think that covers everything. Until next time, ta ta.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Korean Wedding Photography
Guess who's back?
It took me a long time to come back here. There are a lot of reasons for that. For one thing, planning a wedding is a terrible, horrible thing. For another thing, life. Life, in the words of Dr. Malcolm from my favorite movie about dinosaurs eating people, finds a way. In this case, life found a way to keep me from writing. But not more, life! You aren't the boss of me! I shake my fist at thee!
So, in case you're wondering, the wedding happened. Park and I were united in Christ at Holy Transfiguration Church in McLean, VA. Holy T, as we members affectionately call it, has been my home parish my entire life. If you're ever in the area and want to see authentic Eastern Rite worship, Divine Liturgy is at 10:30 on Sunday. Go. You may be lost (I can't see the priest!). You may be confused (Why is everything in Greek and Arabic?). But it will be fantastic. Just make sure you wear some comfortable shoes.
Anyway, the wedding was awesome, but even more awesome is being married. My students tell me that I think this because I'm still in the honeymoon phase. This may be true. However, I feel as though when you're committed to each other, when you know that there are struggles ahead, you have a certainty that everything will work itself out. Every time we disagree about something, there is a foregone conclusion that, by the end of the day, we'll be okay. We have to be.
But enough about that. I'm not here to tell you about how to have a happy marriage (hint: I don't know the answer to that question) or even to bore you with tales of the mishaps at our wedding (there were oh-so-many). Instead, I'm here to tell you about the wonderful world of Korean wedding photography.
Korean weddings are, to be honest, quite boring by American standards. There is some kind of ceremony, during which most guests play with their phones, and then there is a giant buffet. In order to get into the buffet, guests must give a monetary donation. Then you eat and leave. That's it. Korea has a whole industry of wedding halls set up just for the purpose of these weddings, and they are probably much easier on everyone involved. How, then, to create interesting and lasting memories? That's where the photographs come in. These photos are taken several months before the wedding.
To get started, you first need a planning agency. Well, you don't really need one, but it makes everything so much easier. Fortunately, Park used to work as a part-timer for a wedding planner! So we went to her to employ her services. Now that you're at the planner's office, you need to look through albums and pick 1) your photographer 2) your dress company 3) your hair and make-up studio.
Several months passed. Then, two weeks before the shoot, we got to pick our clothing. In Korea, brides make the incredibly wise choice of renting their wedding dresses. Of course, I mean wedding dresses plural. Our photo shoot needed two wedding dresses, an evening gown, a cocktail dress, and our hanbok. Since these dresses are for photo purposes only, the do not have to be in any way practical. Thus, every dress I wore made it impossible for me to walk unassisted, and sitting was mostly impossible.
Now for the day of the shoot. Call time was 6:30 AM. We arrived at the salon, and the awesome people there got right to work. For the first time in life, I appreciated the effort that must go into making celebrities always look good. Make up took one hour. I didn't think make up could ever take that long, but it did. They went all out. There was a woman who specialized in foundation. Then I was passed on to a woman who specialized in eyes. She even gave me fake lashes. Finally, there was a woman who specialized in lips. Now on to hair. I think Korean salons have an apprentice system. I started with two apprentice hair stylists. Then, when all of the necessary preliminaries were in plance, only then did the master stylist take over to finish. Meanwhile, the others stood back and watched in wonder while my hair met its fabulous fate. I will maintain that I have never nor probably will ever look as good as I looked on that day.
Meanwhile, Park was also in the make up and hair chair, but, being a man, it didn't take as long. Two hours later, we both looked great. The first dress and the tux arrived, and we changed right at the salon. It is important to mention now that all of this dressing and undressing and walking is impossible by myself. This is why, for a nominal fee, one can also hire a lady whose sole job is to help one with these things. Which is exactly what we we did.
We arrived at the photography studio and got right down to business. The studio was a giant room with various backgrounds and settings. In one corner was a book store. In another corner was a Victorian living room. There were lots of props as well, such as bouquets, bicycles, benches, giant chairs, and a large rabbit head. Typical studio stuff.
Then we took pictures for the next six hours. There was no time for food. No time for coffee. No time for the bathroom. Just a quick succession of photos and quick changes and then more photos. When our time in the studio was over, we went for a walk in Apgujeong, one of Seoul's more affluent and cute neighborhoods, and took more pictures in our regular clothes. I was so impressed by the photographer's ability to get us to pose just right and smile just so. He also had a really good eye for how to make everything look beautiful. We were in the middle of a city, and yet we looked like the only people there.
A few weeks later, we went back to the studio to pick out the photos for our album. These photos would be lovingly photoshopped and be ready in time for us to display at our wedding.
So there you have it, folks. The Korean wedding photo industry. I wish they had such a thing in the states. These photos are going to be a great memory when we're older. We can look back and see how we looked and how we looked at each other. They're also cute! And, in the case that the photos at one's actual wedding don't turn out the way one wants, there's always these photos to fall back on. So, what do you think? Worth it?
It took me a long time to come back here. There are a lot of reasons for that. For one thing, planning a wedding is a terrible, horrible thing. For another thing, life. Life, in the words of Dr. Malcolm from my favorite movie about dinosaurs eating people, finds a way. In this case, life found a way to keep me from writing. But not more, life! You aren't the boss of me! I shake my fist at thee!
So, in case you're wondering, the wedding happened. Park and I were united in Christ at Holy Transfiguration Church in McLean, VA. Holy T, as we members affectionately call it, has been my home parish my entire life. If you're ever in the area and want to see authentic Eastern Rite worship, Divine Liturgy is at 10:30 on Sunday. Go. You may be lost (I can't see the priest!). You may be confused (Why is everything in Greek and Arabic?). But it will be fantastic. Just make sure you wear some comfortable shoes.
Anyway, the wedding was awesome, but even more awesome is being married. My students tell me that I think this because I'm still in the honeymoon phase. This may be true. However, I feel as though when you're committed to each other, when you know that there are struggles ahead, you have a certainty that everything will work itself out. Every time we disagree about something, there is a foregone conclusion that, by the end of the day, we'll be okay. We have to be.
But enough about that. I'm not here to tell you about how to have a happy marriage (hint: I don't know the answer to that question) or even to bore you with tales of the mishaps at our wedding (there were oh-so-many). Instead, I'm here to tell you about the wonderful world of Korean wedding photography.
 |
| We woke up like this. |
To get started, you first need a planning agency. Well, you don't really need one, but it makes everything so much easier. Fortunately, Park used to work as a part-timer for a wedding planner! So we went to her to employ her services. Now that you're at the planner's office, you need to look through albums and pick 1) your photographer 2) your dress company 3) your hair and make-up studio.
Several months passed. Then, two weeks before the shoot, we got to pick our clothing. In Korea, brides make the incredibly wise choice of renting their wedding dresses. Of course, I mean wedding dresses plural. Our photo shoot needed two wedding dresses, an evening gown, a cocktail dress, and our hanbok. Since these dresses are for photo purposes only, the do not have to be in any way practical. Thus, every dress I wore made it impossible for me to walk unassisted, and sitting was mostly impossible.
 |
| Sitting yes. Walking no. |
 |
| Time for my daily selfie. |
Meanwhile, Park was also in the make up and hair chair, but, being a man, it didn't take as long. Two hours later, we both looked great. The first dress and the tux arrived, and we changed right at the salon. It is important to mention now that all of this dressing and undressing and walking is impossible by myself. This is why, for a nominal fee, one can also hire a lady whose sole job is to help one with these things. Which is exactly what we we did.
We arrived at the photography studio and got right down to business. The studio was a giant room with various backgrounds and settings. In one corner was a book store. In another corner was a Victorian living room. There were lots of props as well, such as bouquets, bicycles, benches, giant chairs, and a large rabbit head. Typical studio stuff.
 |
| This was Park's favorite picture because he didn't have to smile. |
A few weeks later, we went back to the studio to pick out the photos for our album. These photos would be lovingly photoshopped and be ready in time for us to display at our wedding.
So there you have it, folks. The Korean wedding photo industry. I wish they had such a thing in the states. These photos are going to be a great memory when we're older. We can look back and see how we looked and how we looked at each other. They're also cute! And, in the case that the photos at one's actual wedding don't turn out the way one wants, there's always these photos to fall back on. So, what do you think? Worth it?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)