The Motherload

Somewhere between Seoul and Busan, the jet lag has worn off and exhaustion has set in.  Even as I'm writing, I have to count back through the days to remember when we left Seoul- it feels like weeks ago.  Tuesday- that's the day- I started the morning with my second round of acupuncture and Puhang (the cupping therapy I mentioned earlier- essentially using "cups" to suck out bad blood and leave me with giant round hickies on my back and neck...).  It's pretty fitting that I would get to experience my first acupuncture in Asia- and I'd like to report that it does work.  My neck is almost 100%.  Anyways, we then packed up our bags and once again headed for the subway.  A wise friend of mine once told me (last week) to pack as lightly as possible and I believe when she said this, she had situations in mind like running through a subway station with millions, yes millions, of people running in the opposite direction.  Both my neck and Keith were not the happiest campers by the time we arrived at Seoul Central Station to catch our final train (it's called the bullet train) to Busan. 

The train ride south to the second largest city in Korea took us through every type of scenery you can imagine.  From small villages resting on hillsides, to farms stretching out along the tracks, to skylines of high rise apartments randomly popping up- this country is truly beautiful.  And then, in what seemed like minutes, we were clear across the country.  Busan, which, as I mentioned before, is South Korea's second largest city, is bustling like Seoul, but in a completely different way with a completely different pace and style.  Getting off the train, you can immediately feel the water is close.  Located in the southeast corner of the country and butting up to the Pacific ocean, the port city is known for its beaches and fishing.  I love ocean air- the way it makes your hair curl up around your face, the way you can almost taste the salt in the air, the way it settles around the city like a hazy blanket. 

We took a cab from the train station to my friend/co-worker Veronica's (who I mentioned before) mom's place where we are staying through the remainder of the week.  If I haven't mentioned before, she speaks about as much English as I speak Korean.  Let me just say, communicating without any words  (except for my repeated use of the two phrases I know, "hello" and "thank you") has so far proven hilarious, confusing, entertaining and exhausting.  V's mom lives on the 6th floor of a high rise apartment building, as do most Koreans (it is very rare for people to own a house).  When she met us outside her building on Tuesday, she immediately brought us up to her place, speaking in quick Korean the entire time.  Keith and I both smiled a lot and kept repeating our coin phrases.  She quickly (did I mention Koreans do everything quickly?) showed us our room, had us drop our belongings, and then showed us the bathroom, turning on the bathtub water and motioning for me.  I'm still not quite sure exactly what she wanted me to do, but after some motioning and shrugging, she pulled me in front of the sink, pushed my head down and started washing, rinsing (throwing water on my head with a bowl), washing, rinsing...  I still start laughing out loud when I picture what happened in that first 2 minutes after our arrival.  I guess I must have looked pretty haggard after the trip or like I hadn't showered recently?

If I hadn't felt like I was really IN Korea before, I can assure you, this is the real deal now.  Yesterday morning, we woke up to a fully prepared breakfast of kimchi, rice, veggies, eggs, and a delicious meat and cabbage soup.  As a side note, I LOVE this food, and amazingly, this food loves me.  I have not had a stomach ache the entire time from the food, which we all know is nothing short of a miracle.  Keith then tried to take a shower, walking towards the bathroom with his clothes, only to be stopped by V's mom.  She grabbed his clothes from him and threw them on the floor, which he interpreted to mean she in fact did not want him to shower.  I, again, found this hilarious and had to work really hard not to look like I was rudely laughing at her.  After some help from Tiana with translation, we discovered she was telling us she wanted to do our laundry for us.  Straight from Tiana's mouth- "Korean mothers do everything for you- they make grown adults act like kids".  So before heading out for the day, we somewhat-guiltily handed over our laundry.

Yesterday was probably one of the more relaxing days we have had yet.  We spent most of the day at Haeundae Beach, one of "the beaches" of Busan.  The Busan International Film Festival is going on right now, conveniently in the Haeundae Beach area, so we took full advantage of the free stuff (which I think we got more of because of the big, tall, white guy that could be a movie star aka Keith).  We also got more staring.  We grabbed dinner at a traditional Korean restaurant (btw, Keith is getting progressively better at the cross-legged sitting) and then I had the great idea that I wanted to get a haircut.  You would think with all the "interesting" haircuts I've received that always follow impulsiveness, I would have learned.  No, I guess I haven't.  My hair is still long, but there is far less of it due to language barriers and a big pair of thinning shears.  I thought from one Asian hairstylist to another that there was an unspoken rule about what thinning shears do to our hair.  I'll probably wait on getting that tattoo. 

Last night was an early-to-bed night in order to prepare for today's trip to Geochang, the hometown of my birth mother.  I have to back track a minute to explain that since the night of our arrival, after I showed Veronica's mom a piece of paper with some of my birth mom's information, she has been working tirelessly to help me find more information.  I mean tirelessly- from calling her neighbor over who is from the same town, to calling the government office in Geochang, to planning the trip we took today, she has been working so hard to help me, as if I were family.  I am so grateful.  In just the few days we've spent with her, I see where Veronica gets her strength, humor, and passion. 

So, this brave woman decided to take on a 3-hour bus ride to the back country, a place she's most likely never been to, with two english-only-speakers, to see if we might find even a clue to my birth mom.  Remember, this woman is in her seventies.

We got our wake-up call this morning at 7am- another fully prepared breakfast of kimchi, rice, fish, eggs, deliciousness.  Then we packed up and headed out.  Because of the no talking thing, it's impossible to know if you're late to catch the bus...which we realized when we got down to the street and V's mom took off running.  Literally running.  And we kept running 6 blocks to the subway station, through the subway station to the ticket gates.  Apparently we didn't have enough time to buy tickets either, because she made Keith crawl under the bar that is there to keep people from riding without buying a ticket.  The only thing funnier than watching a 6-ft white guy crawl under one of those things is watching a seventy-something asian woman do it- which she did on the way out.  I don't know if I'm doing enough to describe just how fast this woman moves, but I would say she is in better shape than most people I know who are half her age.  We did make it to our bus with only a few minutes to spare, so I guess we really didn't have time to buy tickets.

Fast forward through the bus ride and we arrived at Geochang, the hometown of my birth mother today just before noon.  Veronica's mom immediately began talking with the local people, asking for directions and help to get to the government building.  I don't know why I would doubt she would get us there, but I was amazed when we pulled up to the front of the building just a few conversations and bus rides later.  The building is the government census building where all information on the citizens is kept.  Because she had talked to them earlier on the phone, they must have been expecting us and welcomed us with coffee and smiles.  This is also the part where things started to get overwhelming for me.  For almost an hour, we sat as they looked for any "Shin Soon Yi" on record, conversing with Veronica's mom while we sat, listened, zoned in and out, and were left in the dark.  Once again, we used our good friend Tiana for translating and found that there are three Shin Soon Yi's in the town, but because of privacy laws, they can't give out their addresses.  So another hour of the staff calling each of the matches, interviewing, asking questions about a "long lost daughter", etc.  Another hour of us sitting quietly, listening to the foreign sounds of the language originally my own.  Then another translation time with Tiana to learn that we hit three dead ends. 

At this point, I was ready to throw in the towel. Veronica's mom was not.  Since a piece of the information my social worker gave me is the exact address in Geochang where my mom lived, V's mom asked the staff for directions to that location, and we set off on foot.  Okay, two things: First, at this point, I was sort of feeling like I was in a movie or something.  And second, I don't think I have ever spoken this few words in a day.  Ever.  But I digress- so we stopped in front of a restaurant and V's mom went inside.  See, when you are the kind of person that needs to know what's going on at all times like I am, it's understandable that this is the type of thing that can make a person go crazy.  V's mom immediately started chatting quite intently with what seemed like the restaurant owners- a wife and husband pair.  They were all talking in excited tones (or what sounded excited to me) and I recognized the occasional "Shin Soon Yi" and "Ibyeong" (adopted) words, but otherwise, Keith and I sat there once again, clueless. 

To make a long story a little shorter, through more translation by Tiana, we learned that this restaurant is the exact address of my birth mom's residence and used to be home to five families that shared the building.  The restaurant owner, who grew up in the town, remembered a Shin family from Seoul who moved to Geochang for a few years and lived in this house.  This could possibly have been my grandfather, or another relative.  The restaurant owner called his cousin to see if he remembered any more specifics.  We sat and did some more waiting and eating.  The eating was far more enjoyable than the waiting.  A few hours later, the restaurant owner returned with disappointing news that this was not in fact the right family.  And just like that, it was over.  I am still having a hard time connecting the dots and tying the loose ends- partly a translation thing, and partly I am getting an up-close look into the complex world of the honor/shame culture.  See, there were a lot of circumstances around my mother's mental and physical condition before and after my birth, so I think that even if I found family, it would be nearly impossible to get completely accurate information in order to protect the name of the family. 

On our bus ride back, I thought a lot about the frustration I felt throughout the day, mostly from not knowing what was going on, but also from the idea that I most likely will not find much more information than I have now because of the whole shame thing.  But I also keep thinking about how even when I feel frustration, it is always paired by this amazement at the intensity and fierceness with which the Korean people care and love.  The staff at the census office absolutely did not have to take two hours to make calls to random Shin Soon Yi's.  And the restaurant owner couple did not have to take their entire afternoon, making phone calls, talking with us, feeding us, all to help a stranger just looking for her birth family. 

Before we left the restaurant, the woman looked at me and pointed to herself and said "me can be oma".  I have been thinking about the idea of "mother" all the way back to Busan as well.  I feel a little like I'm mourning the loss of my birth mother all over again, not just because of the dead ends today, but because I think that in a way, she was very sure of her decision to give me up, which is proven by the extreme difficulty in tracing her thus far.  I don't want to make this into some melodrama- really, it is what it is.  But I've been thinking about "mother", a word attached to a complex relationship for many people, and what "mother" really means, and I think it is this: it's the woman who will crawl under a ticket gate to get you information she knows you want; it's the friend who calls around the world in the middle of the night to check on your neck; and it's the woman who waited for me for 6 years, who wanted me before I was even on the airplane to her; the woman who has been there for the bad and the good; it's my mom.