....kim chee, of course.
I'm back in Korea for a few days. Seoul, to be exact, a very different place from Busan, the southern port city where we usually stop with the Flagship. Seoul is to Busan as New York is to Norfolk. Seoul is sophisticated, cosmopolitan, with a panoply of architectural delights and any delectable ethnic cuisine that you want. Driven in from the airport this evening, I saw a Mexican restaurant next to an Australian fish house. Did I mention cosmopolitan?
Seoul is one of those cities that you know you'd love if you could just spend more time getting to know it. We usually stay in Busan two weeks at a time twice a year. I get to Seoul once a year for two days of meetings. Make no mistake, Busan is just fine to visit. Even neighboring Chinhae has its own special charm. But Seoul is an international destination, like many of the world's capital cities. Koreans go to Busan for a beach vacation. Americans go to Seoul to see Korea.
Oh yeah, I know about that crazy man up north and his erratic shenanigans. So what? As it should be with any terrorist, he doesn't deter the ROKs from enjoying life, even within range of whatever destructive toys he claims to have pointed in their direction today. Maybe living under that repetitive threat enables the GSMA* denizens to enjoy life all the more. "Better the devil you know," right? Would victims of 9/11/2001 have lived their lives differently knowing they were under imminent attack? Perhaps for the better. Life is fragile, wherever you live and whoever has you in his/her gunsights. So, carpe diem. The ROKs seem to have a heckuva good time doing just that.
Koreans typically use metal chopsticks...washable, reusable. You can take them with you if you have to move in a hurry. Japanese use wood, some of which are washable, many disposable. Plenty more from where those came. They don't plan to move any time soon.
Although they certainly have their own history and culture, ROKs seem more westernized. They drive on the right side of the road. ROK music and movie stars are pop icons, even in Japan. In general, our ROK friends seem less encumbered by history, tradition, and austere culture than their Japanese counterparts. Neither is bad. This job enables me to learn about both these and the many other Asian cultures in the region.
Naturally, each culture enjoys its own cuisine. I relish both. I can wrap my lips around Korean BBQ any day, or bulgogi, or bibimbap, and -- yes -- kim chee. I also enjoy my sushi, sashimi, ramen, and tempura. It's a blessing to have access to both. (As well as the scrumptious Chinese food to be had in Singapore, but that's for another post on another day.)
Tomorrow we will parlay with our ROK medical counterparts over some fairly serious business. We do live in a hazardous world that makes for daunting challenges in force health protection and operational medical support. Our main purpose, however, is learn about each other's capabilities, so we can work together as a team. After these serious discussions, then, we will do what men and women of good will and mutual respect often do when teambuilding. We will man up our metal chopsticks and dine together. We'll probably drink a bit together too. That's diplomacy, folks.
*GSMA ("gizma") = Greater Seoul Metropolitan Area
Showing posts with label ROK. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ROK. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Katchi...
ROK Fleet Naval Base, Busan, Republic of Korea
About 4K into the traditional USN/ROKN 5K Friendship Run, a young ROK sailor trots up alongside me. Since I haven't run much lately, I've set a deliberate training pace, not looking to set a PR or take any chance on injury. So I'm running casually way at the back of the pack. I expect this much younger, fitter ROK sailor will blow past me as quickly as he materialized from behind.
He does not. He matches my stride almost step for step. After about a half a kilometer more I realize he's not leaving my side. I believe he may have already finished his race. He's probably just being friendly and pacing the older American sailor at the back of the pack. (Maybe he's a medic...? Nah.) Whatever the reason, he stays with me deliberately. I am sure of that.
I may have felt slightly annoyed at first. I usually run alone. In a race no one seems to be on the same pace as me. Yet here's this ROK sailor, matching me stride for stride, silently and inscrutable. I begin to appreciate, then enjoy the experience. And so we continue through most of the last kilometer. We even pass a few others who have stopped or slowed to a steady walk.
The final stretch of the course runs first abeam the premier ROK amphibious ship. A few hundred meters beyond that lies the finish line, abeam our own U.S. Flagship. As we pass the ROK ship, I spot the finish line ahead. ROK and USN photographers are taking pictures of all the finishers as the back of the pack straggles to the end. Inspired, I catch my new running partner's attention and I tell him, "Katchi Kapshida. We go in together."* He smiles his understanding. We continue to match each other, step for step.
As we near the finish, we raise clasped hands high above our heads and cross the line together, triumphant not only for the attention and photographers' flashes, but for the friendship we demonstrate, friendship that extends beyond these two random sailors to include the two free nations working arduously together to preserve the peace in this part of the world.
Finally past the finish line we shake hands. "Kamsamnida," I say. "Thank you."
Later we pose with smiling, jubilant shipmates for a group photo. Friendship.
At the end of the event we all join the large group of ROK and US sailors who raise hands high, and enthusiastically repeat after the US and ROK Fleet Commanders:
English speakers: "Katchi Kapshida!"
Hongul speakers: "We go together!"
What a great way to start a day.
*"Katchi Kapshida" is the motto of the USN/ROKN alliance and friendship. It literally means, "We go forth together."
About 4K into the traditional USN/ROKN 5K Friendship Run, a young ROK sailor trots up alongside me. Since I haven't run much lately, I've set a deliberate training pace, not looking to set a PR or take any chance on injury. So I'm running casually way at the back of the pack. I expect this much younger, fitter ROK sailor will blow past me as quickly as he materialized from behind.
He does not. He matches my stride almost step for step. After about a half a kilometer more I realize he's not leaving my side. I believe he may have already finished his race. He's probably just being friendly and pacing the older American sailor at the back of the pack. (Maybe he's a medic...? Nah.) Whatever the reason, he stays with me deliberately. I am sure of that.
I may have felt slightly annoyed at first. I usually run alone. In a race no one seems to be on the same pace as me. Yet here's this ROK sailor, matching me stride for stride, silently and inscrutable. I begin to appreciate, then enjoy the experience. And so we continue through most of the last kilometer. We even pass a few others who have stopped or slowed to a steady walk.
The final stretch of the course runs first abeam the premier ROK amphibious ship. A few hundred meters beyond that lies the finish line, abeam our own U.S. Flagship. As we pass the ROK ship, I spot the finish line ahead. ROK and USN photographers are taking pictures of all the finishers as the back of the pack straggles to the end. Inspired, I catch my new running partner's attention and I tell him, "Katchi Kapshida. We go in together."* He smiles his understanding. We continue to match each other, step for step.
As we near the finish, we raise clasped hands high above our heads and cross the line together, triumphant not only for the attention and photographers' flashes, but for the friendship we demonstrate, friendship that extends beyond these two random sailors to include the two free nations working arduously together to preserve the peace in this part of the world.
Finally past the finish line we shake hands. "Kamsamnida," I say. "Thank you."
Later we pose with smiling, jubilant shipmates for a group photo. Friendship.
At the end of the event we all join the large group of ROK and US sailors who raise hands high, and enthusiastically repeat after the US and ROK Fleet Commanders:
English speakers: "Katchi Kapshida!"
Hongul speakers: "We go together!"
What a great way to start a day.
*"Katchi Kapshida" is the motto of the USN/ROKN alliance and friendship. It literally means, "We go forth together."
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Busan Receding
The city of Busan and south coast of the Republic of Korea slowly sink into the horizon aft of our underway vessel. For the past 16 days this busy Asian port has been our home away from our home away from home. Twice a year we support a major U.S. alliance by coming to the land of kim chee and Hyundai for game playing and networking with our ROK counterparts. Although I will not miss the constant northwestrly bitter wind that stifled a planned Saturday bike ride, I do take away fond memories and a deeper appreciation for the people of this country.
Similar to their neighbors to the east - with whom they have been sometimes enemies and now friends - these ROKs, as we call them, are hard working and industrious. One needs simply to sojourn about in Busan (or Seoul, which I was privileged to visit last fall) to recognize a nation of relative prosperity and brisk economic growth; home to a resilient people who truly relish their lives and freely share with foreigners. They are every bit as friendly as our Japanese allies, but with fewer of the cultural formalities of that society. I find this interchange always delightful, albeit frequently awkward when ROKs struggle to communicate in our language; a necessary burden since so few Americans ever attempt to learn Hangul. Anxious to facilitate the dialogue, I often embarrass myself with an occasional "hai" or "sumimasen," which my ROK friends politely ignore.
Being a committed foodie (as at least two thirds of my regular blog followers will attest), I am fascinated by Korean cuisine. I used to think that Korean barbecue was a single genre, a notion as naive as proclaiming only one style of American barbecue. Not that I have sampled the Korean varieties to any great extent. This was a working port visit, not heavy on liberty calls. But the different offerings that I did sample were pleasantly different and each delectable in its own subtle blend of texture, taste, spices, and abundant side dishes. The same is true of kim chee, of which I have grown quite fond. Korea has as many different styles of kim chee as Heinz has pickles. (I know, trite expression...) It is all good. The spicier the better.
I depart Busan with two lasting memories of my ROKN medical counterparts, at opposite ends of the two-week spectrum. The first occurred on the day of arrival, when we held our inaugural "staff talks" (term of art) with the ROK Navy medical leadership. The discussions were groundbreaking in the level of mutual sharing and understanding of each other's capabilities. Much more meaningful was the enthusiasm and camaraderie with which we approached these talks, and our shared delight at discovering similarities of purpose and process. Most satisfying was the abundant hospitality shown to us by our hosts, most of whom had traveled by train for a fair distance in the early morning, just to meet and greet.
An even deeper impression occurred, however, near the end of the fortnight, during the "Victory Party" between the two navies, hosted on our main deck. After due ceremony, complementary speeches, and random interactions with our ROK guests - made difficult by the language issue - I was well ready to go below out of that cold NW wind. I was stopped by a young ROKN lieutenant, which rank I had only recently learned to associate with the two diamonds on his uniform's collar device.
"You are Fleet Surgeon," he said in enthusiastic if not fluent English. "Do you remember me?"
Years of leadership training prompted my, "Of course I do," verbal reply while my mind vigorously searched its overloaded cerebral hard drive for the corresponding memory bytes. Fortunately, it clicked right in, "You are from the medical department on DOKDO. We met here in Busan last summer." The young man was so delighted at the recognition that he almost swooned. I cannot tell you his name, even now, but that is strictly a linguistic thing. We then had a wonderful conversation about our mutual interests and opportunities to collaborate during the next exercise.
I promised to host our mutual medical staffs to Korean barbecue and kim chee the next time we're in port. Hopefully the ROK lieutenant will consider that a treat. I know I will. Because as he and my own staff lieutenants continue the interaction, I will sit back to enjoy my kim chee and barbecue, fully confident that the relationships we started during this trip really will endure to the next generation of leaders.
Similar to their neighbors to the east - with whom they have been sometimes enemies and now friends - these ROKs, as we call them, are hard working and industrious. One needs simply to sojourn about in Busan (or Seoul, which I was privileged to visit last fall) to recognize a nation of relative prosperity and brisk economic growth; home to a resilient people who truly relish their lives and freely share with foreigners. They are every bit as friendly as our Japanese allies, but with fewer of the cultural formalities of that society. I find this interchange always delightful, albeit frequently awkward when ROKs struggle to communicate in our language; a necessary burden since so few Americans ever attempt to learn Hangul. Anxious to facilitate the dialogue, I often embarrass myself with an occasional "hai" or "sumimasen," which my ROK friends politely ignore.
Being a committed foodie (as at least two thirds of my regular blog followers will attest), I am fascinated by Korean cuisine. I used to think that Korean barbecue was a single genre, a notion as naive as proclaiming only one style of American barbecue. Not that I have sampled the Korean varieties to any great extent. This was a working port visit, not heavy on liberty calls. But the different offerings that I did sample were pleasantly different and each delectable in its own subtle blend of texture, taste, spices, and abundant side dishes. The same is true of kim chee, of which I have grown quite fond. Korea has as many different styles of kim chee as Heinz has pickles. (I know, trite expression...) It is all good. The spicier the better.
I depart Busan with two lasting memories of my ROKN medical counterparts, at opposite ends of the two-week spectrum. The first occurred on the day of arrival, when we held our inaugural "staff talks" (term of art) with the ROK Navy medical leadership. The discussions were groundbreaking in the level of mutual sharing and understanding of each other's capabilities. Much more meaningful was the enthusiasm and camaraderie with which we approached these talks, and our shared delight at discovering similarities of purpose and process. Most satisfying was the abundant hospitality shown to us by our hosts, most of whom had traveled by train for a fair distance in the early morning, just to meet and greet.
An even deeper impression occurred, however, near the end of the fortnight, during the "Victory Party" between the two navies, hosted on our main deck. After due ceremony, complementary speeches, and random interactions with our ROK guests - made difficult by the language issue - I was well ready to go below out of that cold NW wind. I was stopped by a young ROKN lieutenant, which rank I had only recently learned to associate with the two diamonds on his uniform's collar device.
"You are Fleet Surgeon," he said in enthusiastic if not fluent English. "Do you remember me?"
Years of leadership training prompted my, "Of course I do," verbal reply while my mind vigorously searched its overloaded cerebral hard drive for the corresponding memory bytes. Fortunately, it clicked right in, "You are from the medical department on DOKDO. We met here in Busan last summer." The young man was so delighted at the recognition that he almost swooned. I cannot tell you his name, even now, but that is strictly a linguistic thing. We then had a wonderful conversation about our mutual interests and opportunities to collaborate during the next exercise.
I promised to host our mutual medical staffs to Korean barbecue and kim chee the next time we're in port. Hopefully the ROK lieutenant will consider that a treat. I know I will. Because as he and my own staff lieutenants continue the interaction, I will sit back to enjoy my kim chee and barbecue, fully confident that the relationships we started during this trip really will endure to the next generation of leaders.
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