Korean translation, 년[neon,nyawn]: year



Korean translation, 년[neon,nyawn]: year




To whoever is looking at this blog, know that while although one of the functions of this blog is to inform others of my time here, I also use this blog as a way to document what I am doing in Korea for myself. I do this so that come a year, two years, ten, twenty from now, I can look back and remember some of the the amazing people I met, the places I went and the meaningful experiences I had.

Why am I in Seoul, anyways?

Why am I in Seoul, anyways? I'm studying language in Seoul for the year through the National Security Language Initiative for Youth operated by the U.S. State Department. While in Seoul, I attend a local Korean high school as a regular Korean student and have intensive language classes three times a week at an international institute in Seoul. My school is a digital media vocational school. Both in school and in many other settings, I am often the only American they have met and almost always the only Jew. As such, I have an important role, not only as an American or a Jew, but as The American and The Jew. Because of this, I have been prone to some alarming, but insightful questions. Like when it was drizzling outside, weather that does not necessarily warrant carrying an umbrella, but being asked by my host brother, "Do all Jews not use umbrellas?" I am constantly being put in new situations. I make mistakes sometimes. Like when I clearly asked for "not spicy," however later realized, tears in my eyes, that the woman's shocked expression when I ordered "meh-un tteokbokki" was not from my Korean ordering skills, but was because I had probably been the first foreigner to specifically ask for the spiciest food on the menu. These year as the non-umbrella-carrying-spicy-food-eating-American-Jew living in Seoul has been exhausting and exhilarating, but a year of experiences I will bring with me for the rest of my life. .

Chabad

I went to Chabad for Rosh HaShanah on the first night. Chabad itself is a house located in a tangle of little streets all zig-zagging each other. Needless to say I got lost trying to find the place. The rabbi was standing at the front door and was extremely welcoming to me, he shook my hand and said, "Chag Sameach. Welcome!" I was surprised at how many chairs were set up in the front yard, much more than I had expected. Inside the house there was a place to put your shoes, and then you continued downstairs into a small room with bookshelves of Jewish talmud and other torah related books covering the walls and a mechitzah made out of PVC with a picture of the Wailing Wall on it. I realized this was going to be my first shoeless service- and I felt great! Here I was in Seoul, Korea, able to enjoy Korean and Jewish culture at the same time. There was already a minyan of men in the room, talking and getting to know one another. I introduced myself as Gadi from Florida and so the game of Jewish geography began, "oh, you're from Florida? My cousin's aunt's friend lives in Florida, do you know him?"

I always loved the atmosphere of Kiruv Chabad (Chabad outreach) because it attracted so many people from so many different backgrounds into one room. A microcosm of the world's Jewish community so to speak. There were people from Russia and France and Brazil and the from everywhere in the U.S.

The service was lovely as well. I felt at home even though in Florida Rosh HaShannah had not even begun. I wasn't able to stay for dinner, unfortunately, because my curfew did not permit it, but the rabbi gave me a Challah roll to take home. I left Chabad feeling grateful I have a second family, albeit mostly of businessmen passing through Seoul, that I can always fall back on. The Korean word that really describes how I felt is: 따뜻 [ddaddt]: an internal warmth.

Rosh HaShannah meal at Chabad Seoul

The next day at Korean class I bought some apples and honey and shared with the other NSLI-Y students a sweet new year. It felt great to share a holiday that had made me feel at home with the other Americans. That night I brought home some bread and with the same honey, I shared the tradition with my host family.