Foulks' Tales From Korea: May 2013

Living in America, it’s almost impossible to go very long without hearing about the topic of racism, whether it is through school, the media, or during casual conversations. It’s undeniable it still exists in the United States, but fewer people nowadays experience or are witness to blatant, out-in-the-open, in-your-face, public displays of racism. Especially when you have the “privilege” of growing up white in suburban America.

Growing up white, especially middle or upper class white, inevitably leads to a sheltered life in the United States. My upbringing was no exception. (This is not a knock on my parents, as they did their best to try and provide a decent life for my sisters and me and, in my opinion, did a damn fine job of it.) If you asked me to recall a time where I was witness to an unabashed public display of racism back home, I would struggle to think of one. Also, I was never given the chance, luckily or unluckily depending on how you want to view it, of being the minority for any extended period of time. Living in Korea changed all of that.

Being a minority here, I’m surprised it took almost a year and a half to be the target of someone’s prejudice (that I was aware of). A couple weeks ago, a bunch of friends and I wanted to spend a relaxing weekend on one of the many islands that litter the southern coast of Korea. We chose the island of Bijindo for our stay. The eight of us bussed to Tongyeong, went shopping, and lugged everything onto the ferry for the one-hour journey to the island. Actually, it is two islands connected by a narrow strip of sand, which is what leads to the island’s nickname of ‘Bikini Island.’

Ferry Ride

Yes, I did do this.

Anyway, there are two pensions on the island and naturally, we ask the one Korean in our group to book it. The first one she called was full for the night we needed so we reserved rooms in the second pension. Part of the arrangement was for the pension to send a van to meet us at the ferry port.

Our pension, from the ferry.

Upon disembarking from the ferry, the pension van pulls up. We are loading our belongings onto the trailer when we notice a long discussion between the owner of the pension and our Korean friend who booked the rooms. Naturally, we were getting worried as it was a holiday weekend and the possibility of an overbooking entered our minds.

Eventually, our friend came back and said we could load up the van and trailer. It wasn’t until later that we found out that the owner balked at foreigners staying in his pension. While some of what was discussed may have been lost in translation, the explanation was that he didn’t like foreigners staying in his pension because they smell different. Specifically, foreigners smell like butter while Koreans smell like kimchi. I guess that means kimchi farts are a real thing!!! He had asked our friend to stay at the other pension on the island and only relented when she told him that we tried, but it was already full.


DAMN!!! I bet that van smelled like butter after transporting all those foreigners!!!

Avoiding the butter fumes!

Maybe it is because I’ve rarely, if ever, been the victim of racism that I was more amused than offended. In fact, I was not offended at all. It also didn’t hurt that in the end, our plans were still intact and aside from a short delay, there weren’t any negative consequences to this man’s racist attitude. We were still able to enjoy our weekend of hiking, grilling, card games, and playing on the beach.

Next time, it may not turn out as well for me when I encounter the ugly face of racism, but even if it doesn’t, it is experiences like these that will help me become a better person now and in the future. I never said it was going to be easy, and you may think I’m nuts for saying this, but these experiences help me further justify my decision to relocate halfway around the world.