Top 3 Culture Shocks Experienced by an American in Korea: What they don’t tell you

I’m in the basement. Tanks of nitrogen, scuffed floors, and the printer-like sounds of a machine running.

I direct the infrared laser through a piece of plastic I’ve collected from a bird nest (all with proper permitting and training!). With a Fourier transform equation, I can determine which compounds make up my material by gauging the absorbance of the infrared spectrum.

…

Ok, I’ll admit I don’t 100% know what that means.

But basically, I trust that with a click of a button the machine will do as its programed to do and tell me what plastic I have presented with. And before you think there’s some epic giant laser involved, let me show you this picture…

In a relatively simple process, I stick my plastic under the holder thingy and press run on the computer. And as the computer fires off 1’s and 0’s, my own synapses have brought my thoughts, as they so often do, to Korea.

So, as I sit here surrounded by expensive machinery, I reminisce on the three biggest culture shocks I had in my last trip to Korea.

Culture Shock 1: Doritos

It was week three of my latest Korean trip. Three weeks of delicious food, feeling proud that my fumbling attempts at Korean were considerably less fumbly, and having fun with friends. But no matter how one is enjoying their Korea trip, there comes a point where you can’t stomach any more seafood flavored chips or weird corn ice cream.

There comes a point where you need to rewatch the Good Place while eating something other than ramen.

With this in my mind, I pulled on my coat, and headed to one of the many convenience stores within a two minute walk. My eyes trailed over the offerings—honey butter chips, shrimp chips, dried squid—when suddenly a glaring, red-orange caught my eye.

I could hardly believe my eyes.

Amidst rows and rows of strange snacks, a callback to childhood, a friend as familiar as a my mother’s embrace. Doritos.

With barely constrained excitement, I swiped my credit card, called out a singsong Kamsahamnida and was on my way. Shoes off, Good Place on, pillows adjusted, I opened the bag. Grabbed a chip. Took a bite. And the smile promptly vanished from my face.

Horrible betrayal…

What was this??

If this was a Dorito…then Taco Bell crunchy tacos were real tacos and May 5 was actually Mexican Independence Day.

The shape was right. The color was right. But…the taste. And the texture!!

A slightly stale tortilla chip with spices sprinkled on top. This was the Korean Dorito.

This horrible tasting Dorito remains the biggest culture shock of all my Korean trips. It might sound like an exaggeration, but in that moment when I was so in need, I was met with an imposter who had claimed to be my friend. That would leave an impact on anyone.

Culture Shock 2: Small Talk

Now, moving on to a more universal culture shock. Small talk.

Koreans don’t have it.

And honestly, I don’t mind it. In fact, I didn’t realize just how completely I had adapted to no small talk, until I was on the plane back home and found myself surrounded by fellow Americans for the first time in three weeks. I sat down, and was stuffing my bag under my chair, when suddenly the girl next to me speaks.

What brought you to Korea?

I blinked at her for a couple seconds before confirming that she was indeed speaking to me. My polite small talk smile felt rusty as I answered. And suddenly, before we had even taken off, I knew not only this girl’s name, but the names of all three people in my row, the reason they had come to Korea, their jobs, and the names of their family members. And when we were in the air and I couldn’t figure out the foot rest thing, instead of pretending they didn’t see, all three of them came to my aid, demonstrating with their own foot rests how to bring it up and down.

I couldn’t believe it.

For context, not that long ago while I was quietly eating ramen at my guesthouse of mostly Koreans, I spilled my water bottle. The open and not-empty water bottle, fell to the ground, loudly bouncing across the floor. Thunk, thamp, BOOM. Aside from a side glance between a bite of ramen from the girl next to me, not a soul acknowledged me. No one offered paper towels, or even let out a chuckle.

It’s just the Korean way, I suppose. And as an introvert I quite enjoyed it. But I will admit, there was something so nice and warm and familiar about the small talk. Ever since then, I appreciate the small little moments with strangers in a way I didn’t before.

Culture Shock 3: Sharing Food

I’ll begin this culture shock with a storytime from my American life. One or two years ago, I was out for dinner with my martial arts group at a burger place, and I asked my (American) friend for a fry. She looked at me like I had asked for her future firstborn. To this day, my capoeira classmates still tease me for being a fry-stealer.

So, I still find it incredibly unfamiliar to sit down at a table with Koreans—even if it’s our first time eating together!—and before beginning to offer everyone a bite of my food. I don’t mean big platters at the center of the table meant for sharing. That I understand and have no problem with. I mean, my personal plate. The dish I chose for myself. Even once, a small bag of chips that came with my sandwich.

As an example of just how far this goes. I was at a festival with two Korean friends and bought myself some grilled shrimp on a stick. There were five shrimp. And with secret tears, I turned to one, and then other, with an offer for them to eat. But at the end of the day, it would be impossible to refuse to share. After all, this is only a return in generosity for all the food my Korean friends have shared with me along the way.

Returning to the present…

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