Take me out to the ballgame, Part I: Re2pect

It's funny, but I've found that during my travels abroad, baseball has a funny way of making me feel homesick.  Maybe because it so signifies America for me -- I remember all the grassroots local baseball fundraisers after 9/11, and I always get teary-eyed singing the anthem at the start of a game (the pregnant pause after the "O say does the star-spangled banner yet wave" gets to me every time...One of my favorite stories about our anthem is being in the Philippines.  My cousin's husband, Aries, was explaining how much Americans loved our anthem, saying: "And even before the song is over, everyone starts screaming and clapping and cheering!  It's true, I've seen it on tv!!" -- with all his friends completely incredulous).

I think back to all the times I've "watched" world series games at odd hours of the day -- I have memories of being in a hotel lobby (of course I now can't even remember where) and IM'ing with my close friend Sue while yahoo sports showed icons of men on base.  I got shockingly emotional over the summer when Tyler and I went to our last Yankees game before leaving for Seoul -- sure, there was the Americana of it all and "God Bless America" in the seventh inning stretch, as well as knowing this would be the last time I saw Jeter play.  But it was more than that, as well -- it served as a poignant reminder of time marching on...which I'm only beginning to recognize now with my emotions surprising me again with every Jeter video I've watched this weekend (and there have been a lot!)

An article I read in the Wall Street Journal started getting at a core piece of this, which perhaps more strongly resonated because the author and I appear to be the same age: "Jeter isn't just a baseball player; he is a human metronome, marking time in everyone's lives.  When he came into the scene in 1996, I was a junior in high school in the New York suburbs, and he was a rookie winning the World Series."  After college, going to Yankees away games and cheering on Jeter (and Jorge and Bernie, our favorites) started to become a tradition for my best friend, Susan, and I.  Even when I moved to India and caught games during visits home, Jeter still looked the same to me -- there was some sense of a constant.  And perhaps that's part of it.  I always say it's easy to leave NYC because I know NYC will always be there.  But I take for granted that it will be my same NYC when I come home because in the past, it pretty much always has been -- my parents living in the same house, my relatives and friends nearby, my same apartment, my same favorite bagel place and sushi restaurant... and as silly as it seems, the Yankees and Derek Jeter.

I must have watched this video at least five times over the weekend: link here.  It's Jeter's walk-off single in his final game at Yankee stadium last week (my Friday morning here), which shockingly took me a while to find: lots of videos from ESPN and others just showed the actual play, but I wanted all the emotion... the fans "cheering in a way reserved for legends" (as the NYT put it), his teammates, and Posada, Rivera, and Pettitte meeting him on the field (which apparently went against the planned script, which was for Jeter to walk around the stadium and for them to appear at home base as he walked back -- kindda a "join us now" moment), his going to his parents and his nephew tipping his hat to him... I really like this photo from the New Yorker:

People ask why I like the Yankees.  Depending on how much the person really seems to care, they get different answers stemming from "I'm from NY" to "I grew up a Mets fan (none of our parents would drive to the Bronx), but then went to school in Boston, so cheering for NY meant cheering for the Yankees against the Red Sox."  The real reason, which few people know because it's way too much to get into during trash talk banter, is actually much more emotional for me.  A lot of it can be summed up in this amazing documentary, called "Nine Innings from Ground Zero"; link to streaming movie can be found here.

While I had grown up in New York, it wasn't until I moved to NYC after college in the summer of 2001 that I started considering myself a real New Yorker.  I felt grown up, living in my own apartment, and doing grown-up things like working and buying groceries (cooking was a different question).

Then the attacks happened.  Being so new to NYC, the weeks and months following 9/11 showed me what it meant to be a New Yorker.  What I remember most during that time was how New Yorkers pulled together.  While I was in Boston for training trying to make it back to NYC, I remember Brian calling while standing on line to give blood, saying that the lines were down the block and across the street; Michelle and other friends volunteered at a hospital those first days.  I remember going with my new colleagues to candlelight vigils in Union Square, and spending evenings with Susan on the West Side Highway cheering firefighters and relief workers emerging from the site.

At some point, there started to be a return to quasi-normalcy.  The stock market reopened, store windows started displaying items for sale instead of just black curtains, we all went back to work, and baseball resumed.  The first game in NY was the Mets hosting the Braves; when Mike Piazza hit a home run at the top of the eighth, I remember seeing highlights of the crowd responding with cheers, some tears, and then: "USA! USA! USA!"

But what I remember the most were the Yankees.  When the games were canceled right after the attacks, I remember reading about Joe Torre, Derek Jeter, and Bernie Williams visiting various sites to comfort emergency workers and relatives of victims.  I remember reading that they didn't know what to say or do, that they wondered if they should even be there.  Later, Torre's co-author wrote about Bernie Williams walking up to a grieving woman during one of their visits and saying: "I don't know what to say... but you look like you need a hug."  Rudy Giuliani, whose face was everywhere during those first few months, routinely alternated between FDNY, NYPD, and Yankees baseball caps.

Walking through the 9/11 Memorial and Museum with Tyler this past summer, I recalled the sense of helplessness, of not knowing what to say or do during those first few weeks.  We were all off from work, but they were far from vacation days -- very little of what we did felt "right."

And as silly as it sounds, in one small way, in one corner of life, once the Yankees started playing again, we all knew exactly what to do.  Cheer like crazy.  And so we did.  The NY Public Library dressed their stone lions with Yankees caps.  I bought my first Jeter jersey.  Walking around the city, we all had something that united us besides the attacks.  In a city where you don't talk to strangers, as we started to win our division and then went onto the World Series, strangers would talk about the games out in coffee shops and around the city.  And for the first time in a few weeks, it felt okay to be happy, to be hopeful, and even to be laughing out in public (who knew that ten years later, I would marry into a Mariners family, whose memories of those post-season games would be very different from my own...)

During the World Series, Curt Schilling (Arizona's starting pitcher) was asked to comment on the mystique and aura of Yankee Stadium.  With Arizona already winning the first two games of the World Series, Schilling responded, "Mystique and aura -- those are dancers in a nightclub."  I remember watching the next game and tearing up seeing a sign that read: "Mystique and aura: appearing nightly."  It was the ninth inning with two outs and two strikes.  We were down by two points with one man on base.  Byung-Hyun Kim (more about him when I blog about Korean baseball) was Arizona's relief pitcher.  I was watching with Brian and remember thinking: "All we need is a homerun!"  On Kim's first pitch, the improbable happened: a home run!!  We started screaming and heard our neighbors screaming too.  The game went into extra innings and Jeter eventually went on to hit a walk-off homer.  

The next day, a NY publication (maybe the NY Post?) had the headline: "We're back."  They may have been talking about the Yankees, but with everyone so excited, it felt like it applied to NYC as well.  The next night, it felt like deja vu.  We were again down by two points; I remember talking to our doorman, Jerry, during one of the breaks, with him saying we need some more magic tonight as well.  It was the ninth inning, with once again two outs, two strikes, and one man on base.  On Kim's second pitch, the Yankees got yet another two-run homer, going into extra innings and a hit from Soriano winning the game for the Yankees.  Talk about drama.

Alas, as we all remember, the Diamondbacks went on the win the World Series.  But what I remember most about that time was the city finally cheering and laughing and in some small way, coming alive again.  During that post-season, the Yankees gave us something that had felt missing since the attacks: a dose of magic.  And perhaps it's that same magic that makes this video of Jeter's last night at Yankee stadium so poignant.

Living in America, it's easy to see so many of our differences.  Tyler and I joke that we likely would never have gotten together if we had met in America: east coast vs west coast; big city vs small town; opera vs motorcycles (which would later become opera and motorcycles -- sometimes in the same weekend).  Yet meeting abroad, all we noticed were our similarities.

If I were living in the States now, I would probably be much more into the standings: my team versus yours and who will likely be in the World Series.  Yet from here, it's just American baseball.  When I think about differences, I think about what's different between baseball in America versus baseball here (more to come on that!)  Maybe that's why I loved this video so much of Jeter's last career game, which occurred in Fenway Park this past weekend: opposing fans coming together, the whole stadium cheering, and the Red Sox players clapping to show their respect.

And as far as I feel watching these videos on the other side of the world, I also smile thinking about how something as seemingly trivial as baseball can also unite people across the globe.  So as post-season draws near, both in the US and here in Korea, the only thing left to say is: "Play Ball!"

Next up: Take me out to the ballgame, Part II: Korea Paiting!!

You knew this was coming...

While you can't tell from this picture, two of those black shadows are me and Tyler riding "horses" a la Gangnam Style last night on our walk home. (Love it here: normal Sunday evening stroll home, when all of a sudden: Bright lights!  Gangnam Style!  Let's jump on stage and dance!!)

My much-cooler-than-I-am cousin, Jeanne, just sent me a Facebook link to a video with the intro: "Gangnam Style is so two thousand and late" -- instead pointing to the much trendier K-pop craze that Gangnam Style has ushered in.

So before fully embracing K-pop itself (don't you worry, more posts to come on that!), I thought I'd first give a nod to musical history and more fully learn about about the song that made my neighboring 'hood so famous worldwide, and which Rolling Stone argues has "conquered the world...blurring the line between parody and celebration."

First thing's first.  "Gangnam" literally translates to "South of the River."  As we're learning, everything in Seoul is referenced by its location to the river: north of the river are lots of expat neighborhoods and historical sites, while south of the river is more "downtown" with new and modern buildings.  As someone living in the south, when I get invited somewhere up north, it's like living on the upper west side of Manhattan and being invited to a dinner party in Brooklyn (and areas like Sangsu, Hannam, and Itaewon are hip like that).

Gangnam itself is a particular area south of the river, home to about 1% of the population of Seoul and is about the size of Manhattan.  It's a really upscale area, known for its wealthy inhabitants, generally considered "new money" (think Beverly Hills, with all the similar connotations).  An article I read said that the average apartment in Gangnam costs 3/4 of a million dollars per year, compared to an average South Korean household income of about $40,000.

The singer of Gangnam Style is Park Jae-Sang, who calls himself PSY (short for Psycho, no joke).  He himself is from a wealthy family and grew up close to Gangnam.  The song basically pokes fun at wanna-be's emulating those who live in Gangnam.  In an interview, he stated that, "People who are actually from Gangnam never proclaim that they are -- it's only the posers and wannabes that put on these airs and say that they are 'Gangnam Style' -- so this song is actually poking fun at those kinds of people who are trying so hard to be something that they're not."

There are actually a few levels of sarcasm in the song.  The first is against the "wanna-be" Gangnam-ites like above.  But the next are those in Gangnam themselves -- whether wanna-be or not.  PSY says that Gangnam residents are seen as "good-looking because of plastic surgery, stylish because they can splurge on luxury goods, and slim thanks to yoga and personal trainers."  It mocks the Gangnam lifestyle, with its excessive pursuit of image, good looks, success, and affluence.  It's a place where plastic surgery is commonplace -- almost a rite of package, with many girls electing for double-eyelid surgery to make their eyes bigger and more "Western."  So in other words, "Gangnam style" is the quest for "having it all" -- and showing off to everyone that you do.  Urban Dictionary says that in colloquial usage, "Gangnam style" is comparable to English slang terms: "swag" and (my favorite) "yolo."

Then there's the "invisible horse" itself.  Not quite sure where that falls into affluence and Gangnam per se, but supposedly PSY stayed up late for thirty nights coming up with the "Gangnam style" dance.  While doing this, he tested other animal dance moves besides the horse trot -- like panda and kangaroo dance moves (I'd like to see the panda dance, for sure).

And the rest, as they say, is history.  The song was released in July 2012.  By December of that year, it had become the first YouTube video to reach one billion views.  By May of this year, it had hit 2 billion views (as of today it's at 2.09 billion).  Before it even reached one billion views, one blogger calculated that given the video is 4 minutes and 12 seconds long, it means that approximately 63 million man-hours (or about the number of hours 30,288 workers spend working 40 hours a week, 52 weeks a year, with no holidays or vacation) have spent watching a video mimicking riding a horse to a beat, "with the vast majority of those who've watched it not understanding much of anything he's saying."

Can't argue with that.  Full lyrics are here, though I haven't learned enough Korean to translate for you other than the chorus "Oppa Gangnam Style" meaning "Older Brother has Gangnam Style" (referring to himself).  I'm told that the connotation "big brother" in pop culture has roughly the same gist as "daddy" in hip hop videos.

In the song, PSY plays a "Gangnam guy" who describes the "sexy lady" he is looking for: someone with strawberry blond hair, who goes with him to play tennis and go to yoga classes (besides, of course, going to horse stables and riding horses everywhere).  He talks about wanting, "a classy girl who knows how to enjoy the freedom of a cup of coffee" -- often a cup is around $9 dollars here in Gangnam.

Through this "research" (aka procrastinating on some of my work today), I found that President Obama apparently dances Gangnam Style, much to the embarrassment of Michelle and his daughters.  Says Obama about Sasha and Malia: "They're cooler than I am.  There are things I like that they think are cheesy, like "Gangnam Style."  I love that."  Michelle's take on his goofy gallop dancing?  "That's a little embarrassing."  Article here.

So what does Gangnam Style mean to Seoul now?  I first thought that splashy neon dance stage outside the Gangnam subway station was just for tourists.  Yet besides us, everyone dancing on the stage and posing for pictures were Korean themselves.  It's been estimated that the song has brought in $13.4 billion to South Korea's audio sector.  Music critics speak of Gangnam Style as launching the "Korean Wave" -- which now includes K-pop and other aspects of Korean culture.  Tesco (the British multinational grocery and retailer) reported that its total sales in Korean food have more than doubled as a result of "Gangnam Style", and PSY was recognized by the South Korean Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism for "increasing the world's interest in Korea."  The song talks a lot about lots of iconic things brought from the west to the east... and there's pride in now reversing the direction.

And so to close, here's the video that I know you now want to watch again for the first time.  Go ahead... click here and become the 2,090,765,498th viewer.

So you think you know Korean BBQ

After a week and a half of living in Seoul, I finally went to my first Korean BBQ dinner last night.  It was at a swanky place called Sam Won Garden near Abgujung; its website boasts of hosting prime ministers and "VIPs" like Miss Young International contestants.  Clearly, we had to check this place out.  With Tyler still at Camp Samsung (rumor has it they performed skits about their country last night... the Indians, with their regional pride and differences, apparently could not agree on anything!), I rounded up some of the other spouses to go out and get to know one another.  I was pleased to discover that Samsung spouses aren't just wives -- there are a few husbands here too (who spent most of this week putting together furniture).

After walking through what seemed to be plastic surgery central (more on that on a different post for sure!), we arrived at Sam Won Garden, complete with lots of greenery and even a waterfall (actually reminded of me a bit of Kum Gang San in NYC).

We order bulgogi, marinated thin slices of sirloin that's grilled at our table, along with marinated beef short ribs called galbi.  While Korean BBQ menus in the US include just about everything (beef, pork, chicken, and vegetable options), I'm learning that BBQ places in Korea tend to specialize in either beef or pork -- but it's rare to find both on the menu.  Instead, the menus are generally divided into marinated (usually bulgogi, galbi, or jumulleok -- short steaks) or un-marinated (which can include thinly-sliced brisket called "chadolbaegi" or thick slices of pork belly called "samgyeopsal" if you're at a pork place) that are then cooked over a table-top grill.

At my going-away dinner in NYC, a friend scared me by asking, "Do they even have Korean BBQ in Korea, or is it an American invention?"... We then brought ourselves to hysterics asking, "And if they do have it, do they also call it Korean BBQ?!"  I was relieved to discover that Korean BBQ here is indeed just like in K-town (and alas, they call it Gogigui here -- which literally means "meat + roasting".)  One big difference is restaurants here have many more banchan or side dishes, which are all served in tiny bowls that continue getting refilled throughout the meal (there was hardly any room on our table when we asked for glasses of water midway into our meal).

I was excited that Koreans eat their BBQ here just like we do at home: wrapping the meat with lettuce (which we learn is called "ssam") and adding condiments like ssamjang paste and pajori, a spicy scallion salad (Tyler calls this "making Korean burritos").  I've been clearly burned by loving Indian food in the States, only to find that it's really different in India and took some getting used to!

We ordered a few stews, which despite looking super scary (how spicy IS that?!), turned out to be surprisingly delicious:

We left the restaurant (now lit with beautiful lanterns) with happy (and stuffed!!) tummies.  The fifteen minute walk back to the subway was more than welcome...

Unable to sleep, I wondered where Korean BBQ came from in the first place (being married to Tyler is full-time training with a question-master-Jedi).  First fun (though perhaps unsurprising) fact: bulgogi is listed as #23 in CNN's The World's 50 Most Delicious Foods Reader's Poll.

I learn that Korean BBQ, or "gogigui", is actually a relatively modern culinary invention, which was developed in restaurants in the 1950s after the Korean War.  According to a food blog: "Finding a Korean barbecue restaurant in Seoul is easy.  Finding a good Korean barbeque restaurant that hasn't been closed for more than 50 years is really hard."  I find Daedo Shikdang, opened in 1964, which specializes in hanwoo sirloin (and is actually the only thing you can order there).  I next try to track down the oldest Korean BBQ restaurant in the US, but the closest I get is multiple references to Dong II Jang Restaurant in LA's Koreatown being one of the oldest.  That opened in 1978; always a mind-trip to think about how different eating-out options were in the US even just thirty years ago.

Though Korean BBQ is relatively new, the history of bulgogi (which literally means "fire meat" in Korean) has a much more interesting arch.  It arose during the Goguryeo Dynasty, from 37 BC to 668 AD, and was called "makjeok" at the time.  Its preparation then was similar to its preparation now: cuts of beef, topped with garlic, scallion, and soy sauce (lots of it!).

Buddhism then spread the land, bringing with it vegetarianism -- resulting in Koreans eating less beef and bulgogi essentially disappearing from the scene.  Then the Mongols invaded, and with that, beef came back into the picture, particularly among royalty.  With the Chosun Dynasty taking hold of the Korean peninsula, a fancier version of bulgogi (called "neobiani") was introduced in the king's kitchen.  These were slightly thicker cuts of beef than bulgogi and seasoned with soy sauce and uber-expensive sugar.  You can still find neobiani in restaurants today.  Today, one can find fancy bulgogi that includes fruit puree or juices like Asian pears (and I hear Korean BBQ places in Hawaii add pineapple to their marinade!)

The oldest restaurant in Seoul I find serving bulgogi is Wooraeok, opened in 1946 and visited by Obama earlier this year, which is known for both its bulgogi and its "Pyeongyang naengmyun".  Culinary lore has it that someone smuggled in a famous recipe from North Korea before the Korean War.  Naengmyun is considered a winter treat in North Korea, though it's a summer delicacy in South Korea.

So that's all I got on Korean BBQ.  Here's a recipe that I'm hoping we can try at some point.  If you try it at home, let me know how it comes out!

Ingredients:
1 pound flank steak, thinly sliced
5 tablespoons soy sauce
2.5 tablespoons white sugar
1/4 cup chopped green onion
2 tablespoons minced garlic
2 tablespoons sesame seeds
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1. Place the beef in a shallow dish.  Combine ingredients above in a small bowl and pour over beef.  Cover and refrigerate for at least one hour or overnight.
2. Preheat grill to high heat and lightly oil grate.
3. Quickly grill beef on hot grill until slightly charred and cooked through, 1-2 minutes per side.

삼성

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Samsung (삼성) seems to dominate our lives these days.  They've put us up in nice corporate housing for our first month here, they are currently reviewing our lease for our new apartment (woohoo!), and they've provided for our intensive Korean lessons (a friend later told me that we learned just as much in five days as she and her husband learned in one semester of undergraduate Korean classes at Columbia -- I suppose that makes me feel better about my brain literally hurting after each class).

The first thing I see out my window when I wake up (still usually around sunrise) is Samsung (those are the tall buildings on the left).

Taking a walk in our greater neighborhood, it is nearly impossible to get lost with the Samsung towers as easy-to-spot landmarks.  They remind me of the glowing eyes in The Great Gatsby, which Gatsby feels are always watching him as he drives through Queens into Manhattan.

When I needed a new external hard drive earlier this week, on a whim we decided to check out the Samsung store.  Sure enough, they had them.  We spent about half an hour oohing and aahing, along with all the other shoppers, over the other cool gadgets (Samsung's curved tv is pretty darn cool).

And as we're learning, it's not just consumer electronics.  In fact, Samsung is made up of over 80 businesses, which on the whole, comprise a pretty random assortment of core focus areas (says the recovering strategy consultant).  The company makes ships (in its four million square foot shipyard -- see below!), cars (though now as a subsidiary of Renault), airplane components (supplying parts to the Airbus A380), and has businesses focused on life insurance and hospitality.  It owns a private university, Sungkyunkwan University, which has a history dating back to 1398.  It even has its own theme park called Everland Resort, which is South Korea's largest amusement park (complete with a zoo and a water park named Caribbean Bay... I hear employees get year-round free passes!)  And as we experienced last Sunday, it even has its own baseball team -- we laugh that its players are apparently on company payroll (alas, the photo below is not from Sunday, when the Samsung Lions got crushed by the LG Twins -- the score was 12 - 3 when we left at the bottom of the seventh inning).

With Tyler at his Samsung "indoctrination camp" (as it's become lovingly referred to by the wives), I decide to spend my morning learning a bit more about the company whose ranks we just joined.  Here's what I learned -- well, the interesting stuff, anyway.  Perhaps my favorite fun fact is that Samsung apparently hires psychologists to to select K-pop music to help relieve stress in Samsung's flagship mobile manufacturing complex in Gumi! (click here for my current favorite K-pop song; thanks Jeanne!)

Samsung was founded by Lee Byung-chul in 1938 as a trading company that specialized in selling local groceries and produced noodles as its flagship product.  The name "Samsung" means "three stars", the word "three" connoting "big, numerous, and powerful" and "stars" connoting "eternity."

Over the next thirty years, Samsung diversified beyond trading into food processing, textiles, insurance, securities, and retail.  It wasn't until the late 1960s that Samsung entered the electronics industry.  Samsung Electronics was established in 1969 and released its first product in 1970: a 12-inch black-and-white tv.

In the 1970s, Samsung entered the shipbuilding and construction industries, which, along with Samsung Electronics, would drive its subsequent growth.  I was intrigued to learn that the Samsung Engineering and Construction Group helped build the tallest building in the world: the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.

Samsung's first mobile device was a car phone introduced in 1986.  Now the majority of last quarter's $8.27 billion profit is attributed to smart phone sales.

As I'm learning from bits of corporate culture leaked on Facebook this week from training, innovation is clearly a big focus (with its 100,000 patents), and innovation and quality loom large in corporate lore.  Unhappy with Samsung's electronics division, Chairman Lee Kun-hee supposedly went on a three-day rant in Germany, dubbed the "Frankfurt Declaration of 1993" and turned this into a management book of guiding principles for the company.  One of his famous quotes is: "Change everything but your wife and children."

Two years later, one of Samsung's first mobile phones apparently did not work when it first came out.  According to corporate legend, when Lee Kun-hee found out, he visited the factory where the phones were made and invited employees to the courtyard as he burned the entire inventory, worth over $50 million.

Though the company was headed near bankruptcy with the Asian financial crisis of 1997, it survived that and went on to become the largest company in South Korea.  As they say, the rest is history.  Samsung Electronics is now the flagship subsidiary of the Samsung Group, accounting for 70% of the group's revenue in 2012.  It employs over 370,000 workers worldwide (compared to Apple -- estimated 80,000 and Microsoft -- estimated 98,000).  With its focus on innovation, it spent over $10.8 billion on R&D in 2012 and last year, captured the largest market share (31%) of the global smartphone segment.  It apparently claims to have successfully tested its new 5G wireless network, saying technology will be "up to several hundred times faster" and will be available for launch in 2020.

Its other businesses are substantial in their own right.  Samsung Heavy Industries is the world's second largest shipbuilder.  There's also Samsung Engineering, Samsung Construction, Samsung Techwin (an aerospace, surveillance, and defense company), Cheil Worldwide (the world's 15th largest advertising agency by revenue, who knew?), and numerous others.  Dubbed the "Miracle on the Han River", Samsung's revenue is equal to 17% of South Korea's $1,082 billion GDP.

The big current news, of course, is that Samsung's Chairman Lee Kun-hee (of "Change everything but your wife and children" fame) has been in the hospital since May of this year.  Aged 72, he had a heart attack and as of last month, was entering his third month at the hospital.  As a family business, he took over from his father 27 years ago and brought Samsung to where it is today.  Reports from The Wall Street Journal claim that his son, 46-year-old Lee Jae Yong will struggle to keep the same influence, due to waning support in Korea for conglomerates controlled through crossholdings, along with inheritance taxes that could exceed $5 billion.  Though the family owns less than 2 percent of total stock, the Lees apparently hold tremendous power over Samsung Group's 74 companies through a web of share holdings.  Will be interesting to follow this in the years ahead.

So where does Tyler fit in with all of this?  In 1997, Chairman Lee Kun-hee started Samsung's Global Strategy Group (GSG) to accelerate the globalization of Samsung and provide support as a strategic partner to Samsung affiliates (essentially serving as internal consultants).  Learning more about corporate history, it now makes sense this started in the wake of the Asian financial crisis, with Asian companies looking outward for opportunities of globalization and growth.  Interestingly, the group is only foreigners (even Korean-Americans are supposedly not considered for the role).  In a statement introducing the group, the Chairman announced: "We need high caliber global talent who can reveal to us a fresh perspective on trends and the latest information.  Let us develop talent to become global managers abroad by familiarizing them with Samsung through a two to three year posting in the Chairman's Office."  

This year's class of 51 global strategists is the group's largest so far (poor Clara, who is managing all the logistics, seems to go back and forth to sort out visa and registration issues every week!)  As we're learning, we seem to be connected with Tyler's new colleagues by about two degrees of separation; everyone seems to have friends in common, which is nice when moving across the world.  While the group prides itself on geographic diversity, just about everyone is from Harvard, Columbia, Wharton, Stanford, London Business School, and all the usual suspects.  There's lots of truth in the statement we joke about: this is Business School Part 2.

And so from a selfish perspective, what does all of this mean for me?  I'm an iPhone user in a Samsung world.  I moved here with all intents to keep my iPhone -- I like to think it's from my independent streak, but really I'm just a creature of habit.  But now the darn camera seems to freeze at the worst possible of times, like asking someone to take a whole big group picture.  Ever trying to be helpful, the person with my phone always seems to say: "Hmm, maybe you should get a Samsung."  

For the first time, I may just consider it.

--------------------
PS: As if on cue, The Verge just published this article yesterday (posted by a GSG'er on Facebook today): Samsung is apparently making a musical sitcom about how cool it is to work there.  Catching up with ever popular Korean dramas, the upcoming "musicom" called "Best Future" will: "explore young people's dreams and challenges over the course of six 10-minute long episodes", through the performance of popular covers of pop '80s and '90s tunes.  Think Glee meets Samsung.

The article only gets better: "In order to portray the 'real' Samsung, the series will be shot at company offices in both Seoul and Suwon Digital City.  The idea behind "Best Future" is to weave a tale about work, life, and relationships that those in their 20s and 30s can sympathize with, and to tempt prospective employees into working with Samsung."  You can't make this stuff up.

So now the gig's up.  You guys now know the real reason Tyler was recruited here... all those nights diligently practicing karaoke have finally paid of.

Wise men say, only fools rush in

It’s happening.  I’m falling slowly but surely in love with Seoul.  As it turns out, it’s happening while Tyler is away.  I don’t think it’s a coincidence.

For the last week, I’ve relied on Tyler to get us from point A to point B.  It hasn’t been until he left that the city has become “mine” as well.

When we talked about first impressions last week, I told him that the city was definitely comfortable, we’d have a really nice stay here… But that there was, so far, nothing magical about it – really cool and extremely technologically advanced to be sure, but no magic per se.  For all of our frustrations with India, it was also a magical place, full of supreme highs and supreme lows – often in the same day before even lunchtime.

Korea’s not like that.  There’s a subtlety to it.

We joke about the hallway in our guestroom.  At first glance, it looks like just a hallway.  But upon further inspection, there’s a full-sized fridge, freezer, stove, sink, and washing machine hidden away.

As I’m learning, that’s what the magic in Seoul is all about.  It’s not an in-your-face magic like it is in India.  Instead, the magic comes from walking down the same street a dozen times, but then discovering something amazing about it when you take the time to really look.

I spent yesterday afternoon taking myself on a date – strolling down the cute side streets of our greater neighborhood.  Only this time, instead of noticing all the western brands, I became drawn to the more subtle shops, with the smaller signs that aren’t so in-your-face.  That’s how I found what may now be my favorite mochi stand… I bought one mochi with fresh kiwi inside and another with a fresh strawberry that I slowly relish.

There’s something about the process of becoming independent in a city that makes you fall in love with it.  I love now seeing patterns and snapping things together in my head.  Instead of viewing independent consonants and vowels, I now see the pattern across the city that 삼성 is Samsung (and seeing the Korean vowels, realize we’ve been mispronouncing it this whole time: it should be “Sahm-sung”, instead of “Sam (like the name)-sung”.  I’ve been navigating the subways on my own, and even the buses now.  Taking a different walking route, I stumble onto the karaoke place we went last Saturday night, which makes the area we’re living in feel a lot smaller and more like home.

I stroll in and out of cute stores, buying myself a pretty nifty superhero ring (I better enjoy wearing it this week because I have a feeling Tyler won’t want to be seen in public with me wearing it!)

And I’m making my own friends.  For the last week, I’ve been “Tyler’s wife”, which though it’s a true statement that I’m proud of, makes me antsy about forging my own identify here as well.  The gender disparity is actually quite better than I had feared on a day-to-day level; at least waiters take my own order here (as opposed to places in India where waiters would ask Tyler what I wanted).  And often when Tyler can’t quite communicate with someone, they look at me to help (due completely to the fact that I’m Asian, not that I speak any better Korean than he does!)  But there are small things that take getting used to… like the fact that there are no joint bank accounts in Korea, so though I have my own ATM and debit card, it says Tyler’s name on it and not mine.

I heard that other Korean teachers have been teaching Samsung GSG spouses to call themselves “jubu”, or housewife, and I’m grateful that apparently our class has seemed to skip over that section.  Instead, we’ve learned that “ahnay” is wife and “nampyeon” is husband, and learned that husbands do not say their wife’s name in public (our Korean teacher giggled when Tyler called me “Tricia-sa”, as we’ve been taught to call everyone in class).  Instead, Tyler should call me “yobo”, which I thought meant “wife!” but later found out is a more endearing “darling” (After further digging, I learned that this word comes from the phrase “Yoboseyo”, which Koreans say when picking up the phone, which in turn comes from the words “Yogi Poseyo” which means, “Please look here!”  So really when Tyler calls me “yobo”, it loosely means, “Hey! Pay attention!”  Love this language!)

I met some new friends for lunch at a vegan (yes, vegan in Seoul!) restaurant called “Plant” yesterday in Itaewon.  While they may be “jubu” to Koreans, they are in reality pretty amazing women: a PhD student, a civil engineer, and a contracting officer with Homeland Security with degrees from Harvard, Columbia, Duke, and U of T at Austin who are wives of Tyler’s new colleagues.  After lunch, we stroll through the antique market, which has a surprising amount of Americana (think old Coke signs) – maybe from the American presence here in the Korean War?  The woman who organized the lunch, Ashley, has been here for a month, so she brought us newcomers to the “Foreigner’s Market” (really, a large Indian market), which was great because it had hard-to-find lentils and coconut oil that some of us had been scavenging for (though a jug of coconut oil is $30 here! -- for anyone visiting or sending care packages, this is your official hint :)  From the Itaewon neighborhood alone, I have a whole list of places that I want to show Tyler once he gets back from training – returning the favor of playing tour guide.

Empowered by navigating the city on my own, that night I head to Art of Living for meditation.  They've sent me directions, but it all feels a bit like a scavenger hunt -- subway two stops, bus two stops, and then follow a map by matching symbols that, while semi-familiar, feel a bit like matching hieroglyphics at night when my concentration level is not as sharp as in the morning.  The bus system itself feels a bit like playing bingo -- "Come on S-18 or S-21!"  The goal is to find a coffee shop called Nu in an apparently otherwise nondescript building and head to the third floor.  I'm convinced at some point, I'll just need to take a taxi, so my heart skips a beat when I turn a corner of a small alleyway and indeed see Coffee Nu!

I head to the third floor and meet Cecilia, who I later learn is the person who brought the Art of Living to Korea eleven years ago in 2003.  She now lives in Hong Kong, and as luck would have it, is in Seoul for the next three days teaching an Art of Happiness course at the center.  Again, a little dose of magic: While I thought I was going to the center for a regular meditation session, it turns out I'm actually joining the first day of the Art of Happiness program -- which is a course I've been wanting to take for a while.  There are ten students, half of them Korean and the other half foreigners from the US, South Africa, and India.

Cecilia herself can't believe I got to the center on my own, and while I patted myself on my back climbing up the stairs, Cecilia takes it to a new level.  Whenever someone comes in late, she announces (with a gentle smile) that Tricia-sa found the center and came on time -- and she's only been here a week!  It's a bit embarrassing.  She says that my ability to get there on my own is linked with focus, which in turn is linked with a clear mind through meditation... so she has me come up in front of the class to be the "model" meditator.  I forgot how much attention we sometimes get as expats!

After the class, I stay at the center and meet the others.  The two other Americans, Sonia and CJ, have each been living in Korea for 5+ years now; CJ talks about the family he's created through his friends here.  I talk to Cecilia about what it was like starting the Art of Living in Seoul ("None of it was planned," she said, "It just happened.")  As we hug good-bye, Cecilia says genuinely: "I see you" (which I take to be a form of Namaste: "the light in me sees the light in you")... Then without skipping a beat, she asks our marital status, noting with a big smile that she has an eligible son (clearly focuses on Sonia for that bit of information).

Sonia and I head back to the subway station together, and she shows me all her favorite neighborhoods on the subway map.  We talk about our lives, families, and future plans.  It feels nice to be seen.  I'm looking forward to this community here.

As the “Artist’s Way” notes: “Our aim here is to find the trail, establish our footing, and begin the climb.  The creative vistas that open will quickly excite you.”  While not necessarily my intention when I started my day (bright and early!) yesterday, that’s exactly what I did – find my trail and start to establish my own footing.  It reminds me of the Fun song that Tyler and I both like called “Carry On”.  It goes: “If you’re lost and alone, or you’re sinking like a stone, carry on.  May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground.  Carry on.”  My favorite line goes like this: “Whoa! My head is on fire.  But my legs are fine – after all, they are mine.”

Since landing in Seoul, I’ve been so grateful for how much of a team Tyler and I have been together on this new adventure.  While I wouldn’t have chosen for Tyler to be away for five days shortly after arriving, it’s helping me re-discover that my own legs are fine, after all, they are mine.

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PS: The Fun video of "Carry On" is a pretty awesome ode to NYC:

Beginner's Eyes

There's nothing like moving to another country to flex one's humility muscle.  I'm a beginner in just about everything now -- which seems the best cure for a recovering perfectionist that I've come across.  Mind you, Tyler's a beginner in just about everything too, but having been here a whole week longer than I have, to me he's the expert on all things Seoul.

This knowledge gap was made very clear last night as we ran through every piece of information I may need to know this week while he's away at his five-day Samsung training (the details of which have been so hush-hush at this point that all sorts of rumors are floating about): "This subway line takes you here; that subway line takes you there -- remember, that's the one we took on Sunday?... If all else fails, the 7-Eleven will have what you need." (I realized when he said that last comment in all seriousness that I need to find my own surer footing here).

I find that I often get frustrated at myself for not knowing more than I do... and then smile when I remind myself that I've only been here a week.  Comparison is a dangerous game: almost unconsciously, I find myself comparing my knowledge here to that of NYC, comparing myself to others who have been in Seoul all summer, and perhaps most dangerously: comparing myself to my younger, "braver" self.  I remember being so fearless in India -- independently exploring the city and looking up Ayurveda treatments and yoga classes my first week there.  I was secretly relieved going back to my journal this weekend and seeing how petrified I was to cross the street my whole first week there! (goes to show you what we selectively remember about ourselves)

And so for now, I'm learning to cultivate a sense of curiosity and wonder, and yes, even revel in my beginner's eyes.  I recently read a great quote from "The Artist's Way": "We want to be great -- immediately great -- but that's not how it works...It is an awkward, tentative, even embarrassing process.  There will be many times when we won't look good -- to ourselves or anyone else.  We need to stop demanding that we do.  It is impossible to get better and look good at the same time... Give yourself permission to be a beginner."  This reminds me of a book a read a few years ago whole title I love: "The joy of doing things badly."

One of the best pieces of advice I got before India was from Seth Godin, who reminded us to take advantage of our "beginner's eyes" to see things that others don't see because to them, it's just "how things are done" -- warning us that our beginner's eyes won't stay that way forever.

Moving here has also been a practice in seeing multiple perspectives, which Shawn Achor argues is a key input for long-term happiness.  Take the smallest of examples: elevator buttons.  Silly as it sounds, one of the first "differences" I noticed here were elevator buttons.  Besides being on the front panel like ours are, the buttons are also along the elevator sides.  For the first couple days, I thought that was silly -- who needs so many elevator buttons, and why on the sides?  And now it makes so much sense... how many times have we all crammed into an elevator, been left standing in the back, and needing to shout for a particular floor?  What first seemed a bit nonsensical is actually genius (why don't we have this at home?!)  It's small moments and building blocks like these that make up an endless stream of a-ha's on a daily basis.

And just about everything right now seems to be building blocks... going back to the basics of ABCs and 123's.  First, there's the Korean alphabet.  Korean class has us all drinking out of a fire hose... though I'm grateful to now be able to walk around and "read" words (or at least sound them out one sloooow syllable after another).

There's also friends.  Right now, we're primarily friends with people whose names start with T through Z: Tabitha, Tom and Tomoko though Zach and Zhon... (our intensive Korean class was divided alphabetically by first names).  We were extremely excited to get invited to a baseball game last weekend by an Andrew -- branching out into the A's, yea!

And then there are numbers.  The Korean number system makes my head spin.  There are two sets of numbers: Chinese numbers (eel, ee, sahm, sa, oh...), which are used for phone numbers, money, dates (and drinking games!!); and then Korean numbers (hana, tool, set, net, tasot...), which are used for age, counting, and ordering.  As if that's not confusing enough, times are told in both sets of numbers: the Korean number is used for the hour and the Chinese number is used for the minutes.  I'm certainly climbing up the learning curve... at least I know what I don't know!

Outside the classroom in day-to-day life, my movements are driven primarily by numbers.  I'm an ace at the 2 and 3 subway lines, and I've memorized the exit numbers at the major subway stops to get me to key locations: exit #3 for Korean class; #8 for Samsung; #9 for home (each subway stop is essentially an enormous mall, with various exits leading to different parts of the neighborhood).

So as I'm learning, each day is a celebration of the little things.  As Robin Collingwood has said: "A man ceases to be a beginner in any given science and becomes a master in that science when he has learned that he is going to be a beginner all his life."

Happy Tummies

You can tell a lot about national priorities through the immigration process.  In the case of Korea, the immigration desk at Incheon airport has a big welcome sign proudly displaying glossy photos of bim bim bop and Korean BBQ.  Seoul has not disappointed us yet.  Here's our first 72 hours in food:  

Our First Day

What I remember most about my first few days in Hyderabad is the noise -- or more specifically, the symphony of strange and exotic morning sounds: the children chattering in Telugu, the man shouting what sounded like "paper!", the hammer of construction in an ever-growing city, drums nearby... I'd lie in bed each morning just taking it all in.

Seoul, on the other hand, might be the quietest city I've lived in.  There are no cars honking, no vendors shouting for your attention... it's a far cry from New York City or Hyderabad.  I arrive during Chuseok or Korean Thanksgiving, so Seoul is quieter than normal, with many Koreans going back to their ancestral hometowns for the three-day holiday.

Tyler and I both have jetlag, so we're up to see the sun rising out our window on my first day there.  We're staying at temporary Samsung housing -- it's like a large hotel suite, though no match for our seven pieces of luggage now strewn throughout the place.  It's complete with a Samsung TV, fridge, and microwave -- what else did we expect?

Breakfast downstairs is Asian-style: I have fried rice, chicken, kim chi, and roasted seaweed.  We explore the neighborhood: my first impression is it reminds me of Gurgaon outside of Delhi, where Tyler's office was.  There's a sense of rapid growth all around: high rises and big roads.  But then you turn the corner, and there are cute streets like this:

We are staying in Seocho (as I later learn is pronounced "So-cho"), on the border of Gangnam (of "Gangnam Style" fame) and a 10 minute walk to the headquarters of Samsung Electronics and Samsung Town.

I'm embarrassed by how excited I am by all the western brands here: Starbucks, Jamba Juice, Krispy Kreme, Taco Bell, Burger King, TGIFridays -- just to name a few.  We may be feeling more homesick than we realize because before lunchtime, we would have gotten a Krispy Kreme donut, a Jamba Juice, and a Starbucks coffee.  We can only get healthier from here!  It's really fun seeing the familiar menus with a twist -- like Jamba Juice's dragon fruit and mango creation (as my cousin Jeanne says, "You've hit the jackpot with delicious food!")

Having been here a whole week longer than I have, Tyler shows me the ropes, teaching me how to get a metro card and navigate the bus system.  There is nothing more humbling than being a beginner in just about everything.  Something as basic as withdrawing money from an ATM takes us four tries.

Feeling the need for a sense of control in something, we return to our new home and set about the task of unpacking.  Tyler is skeptical (it's a small room and we've brought lots with us), but we do it anyway.  There's nothing like moving halfway across the world to sharpen one's desire to nest.  Here's us showing off the fruits of our labor:

We spend the afternoon exploring Hannam, north of the river.  The area is really cute and popular with expats, with its cute shops and picturesque hills.  We end the day at our favorite soup dumpling place in the world: Din Tai Fung, toasting to our first day together in Seoul.  We're a long way from feeling like locals here, but we've taken our first step.

A Life Lesson

As it turns out, my net appeared with my toes still dangling off the edge of the mountain -- not yet taking that first step into the unknown.  But then again, safety nets seem to be a mom's specialty.

My parents and I had just arrived in Newark Airport, getting ready for my 14 hour flight to Narita, to be followed by a 2 hour flight to Seoul.  While my dad goes to park the car, the baggage handler offers helpful advice: "You're about 10 pounds above the weight limit.  Why don't you distribute the weight so you don't get charged extra money.  Do this before your father comes back."

What happens next is a fascinating case study in human psychology.  Despite knowing that my luggage was over the weight limit and in fact, choosing that option to protect my back with lighter carry-ons, something about the baggage handler's comment now turned it in to a task ahead of me (only later did I realize his "do this before your father comes back" triggered me in the same way my ex-boyfriend's older sisters could make him do anything as a kid with the words, "I'll time you!").  The process of unpacking, re-sorting, and re-packing was so tedious, that I never stopped to reflect, "Is this actually something I want to do?"  Instead, I beamed with pride when my bag came in at 49 pounds at the counter -- exactly one pound below the limit.

All checked in, I now stared with disbelief at my now-large carry-on bags, which seemed to be stuffed to their seams.  For the next hour while my parents and I got something to eat, I was angry at myself and the entire situation.  Fearful of re-injuring my back for the sake of saving $100, I regretted everything -- I was annoyed at the baggage handler, annoyed at United, but most of all, annoyed with myself.  I found myself droning on and on about how I shouldn't have listened to the baggage handler and should have stuck with my original plan.

Finally, my mom says: "Well, you can't change what happened.  So what will you do now?"

That hit me like a ton of bricks.  And even as I write this quote days later, I feel my shoulders relax.  You can't change what's happened, so what will you do now?  It's the most important lesson I could ever bring to Korea.

The rest of the story doesn't even matter, but for those interested, we did exactly what we should have done earlier if ego hadn't gotten in the way: we bought a duffel bag, filled that up with the contents of most of my carry-on's, paid the fee, and checked it in.  My flights were all a breeze, and my back feels great.

A few years ago, I heard Cory Booker speak at Columbia.  I still smile remembering part of his speech; he said, "Do you ever feel like the universe is trying to tell you something?" -- it was the first time I had heard someone with such power and influence in the "mainstream" talking about the universe.

As though the incident in Newark wasn't lesson enough, the universe got one final wink on the plane.  Midway into the flight, I was thrilled to find a great selection of audio books as part of the entertainment system (thank you, United!)  I started listening to Shawn Achor's "Before Happiness" (his TED talk on "The Happiness Advantage" is one of my all-time favorites)  I dozed off for much of it, but woke up to hear about the fate of folks experiencing the economic downturn: those who were able to most successfully bounce back from it were those "who were able to embrace new realities other than the one they had been living".  Going deeper, those who thrived were able to "let go of pre-determined beliefs of what the world should look like," versus those who clung to the past and the should's.

Got it.  Acceptance.  This is my lesson that I'm here to learn.  My good friend Robert was determined to stay in India until he learned acceptance, knowing he would find himself in similar situations until he learned this lesson in his core (maybe that's why we're now here in Korea; it's putting it mildly that we did not learn that lesson in India!)

I always struggled with this principle in meditation workshops (one of Art of Living's core insights is to "accept people and situations as they are").  I confused "acceptance" with "being okay" with the situation (what about all the terrible injustices in the world?!).  What I realize now is that acceptance means accepting what's currently happening as truth -- not stomping my feet, covering my ears, and screaming that things should be different.  And with that acceptance, the next question becomes: "What will you do now?"

There's a quote about India that I love: "India is like a wave.  If you resist, you get knocked over.  But if you dive right in, you come through to the other side."  Instead of fighting, it's about embracing.  And the first step of that is acceptance.

What a perfect lesson to learn before touching down in Korea.  Thank you, Mom!

#Let's do this!

"To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest." - Pema Chodron

Here we go!!

A Purposeful Day

It's funny, we can't remember our last day in India.  There was our logistical last day, which consisted of flying back to Delhi from Myanmar, taking a cab back to South Ex, picking up our luggage, and heading straight back to the airport for our flight to JFK.  But we can't remember our real last day, the one where we took everything in and said our goodbyes.  We do remember spending our last weekend in Bombay, where we feasted on garlic butter crab in Trishna and saw lots of friends and former Hyderabadites who moved up to better pastures.  But for the life of us, we can't remember our last day at home in Delhi.  Likely, we were just packing like madmen.

Tyler and I talk a lot about living a purposeful life -- what that means in terms of careers, raising kids, and becoming our best selves.  But we (at least I) tend to be much more reactive and harried day-to-day.  It's a funny dichotomy -- being so thoughtful for the big picture, yet reactive in the little things (answering emails, checking off to do lists)... when it's the little things that make up the big picture.  

So with that, we resolve to be more thoughtful about how we spend our days in Korea... starting with our last day together in NYC.

We had no business going on a picnic the morning before Tyler left for Seoul.  Our apartment was a wreck -- items strewn everywhere and still unsure whether our three big suitcases could fit everything we wanted to bring.  We had great plans to wake up at 6am, but thanks to our amazing new black-out blinds (which we only installed for our new tenant and enjoyed ourselves for only three nights!), we wake up right before we need to leave.  While I try to make it a surprise, the bottles clinking give it all away.  We find a beautiful spot surrounded by wildflowers in Central Park, lay out a picnic blanket, and enjoy blackberries, cheese, blueberry port, and our last everything bagel sandwich -- toasting to our new adventure.

We spend much of the day with family, seeing my cousins at Church, followed by a Turkish feast for lunch with my parents, Elizabeth, John, Joseph, Jeanne, Tita Mel, and Tito Tony.

After a failed attempt to buy dress shoes for Tyler and yet more packing, Wendy and Terence come over to help us drink all of our champagne that we had been saving up "for a special occasion."  Tough job, but as some of our closest friends in NYC, Wendy and Terence are up for the challenge.  (Happiness tip #1: pretend you're moving every few years.  Break out the good stuff and everything you've been saving.  Life's too short!)  We do a blind taste test, ranking each champagne on looks/bubbles, taste, feel, and overall... all great fun, especially when we start digging in on buffalo wings -- who knew that champagne and wings went so well together?! (yup, that's extra buffalo sauce you see in the background).

  

Amidst all of this, we manage to get everything packed and into storage before Tyler leaves for the airport at 2:30am (of course, we're working until essentially right up to that, but still...)

Could we have spent our last day more efficiently?  Clearly.  But there's no doubt we'll remember this day for a long time to come.