Starbucks and Wedding Dresses

I am now back from my Chuseok vacation to Shanghai. Back in terms of physical presence, although I think part of me got stuck back in that beautiful city. The growing discontent of which I have spoken regarding life in Korea is exacerbated by time spent in a city that effortlessly offers an infinity of exciting opportunities. My co-teacher was quite surprised today when I raved about how wonderful Shanghai is. "Really?" he questioned, confused. "I think Busan is more beautiful than there." He has never been "there." His experience speaks of the Korean mindset in general. Korea: good. Elsewhere: a pale shadow of this shining peninsula.

This very attitude leaves me rather tight-lipped, controlling my bafflement, remarking that Korea is beautiful, but other places are beautiful, too. It is this pervasive attitude that makes Korea all the less appealing.

You may not have realized I was going to Shanghai. It's possibly because it felt such a small trip for me. Busan to Shanghai is only an hour flight, hardly worth mentioning. I was not even there for a full week. We had four days off of work, so we left on a Tuesday and returned on Sunday. Such a short visit to China in my mind was akin to a weekend trip to Japan; something I would not think to mention in an update. Here, such travel is commonplace. How one's perspective changes while living out of country. Before, any trip would have merited much bragging. Now it feels negligible, a mere weekend get away.

We journeyed as three: a pessimist, an optimist, and a realist. Three English teachers in Busan. Three American girls. Three friends traveling together for the first time. We laughingly identified our outlooks on life while discussing various topics on the ride to the airport. Unsurprisingly, I was labeled as the eternal optimist: rosily remembering, downplaying the bad, hoping for good. Liz received the title of pessimist, taking caution and care in every situation. Emily settled somewhere between the extremes as our realist, combining the best of both. Even given our differences, we work very well as a group. Before you ask exactly how this is so, allow me to mention that we are all ardent fans of Starbucks. And this city held plenty. So there, the pessimist, optimist, and realist can all realistically come together in a perfect utopia.

Shanghai is a stunning city. Having traveled in a number of Chinese cities, I felt I could somewhat be aware of what to expect. And in some instances, I was correct. The strains of ancient voices that reside in a place pressed at all sides to be modern. Yet try as it has, China cannot forget the ancient world that continues slowly on with the daily task of survival. As we walked through Old Town, the original city of this now sprawling metropolis that once was surrounded by thick stone walls, lives continued in their buying of sweets, of dinner, of playing in the streets, of hanging laundry out the window, of napping in their shops. Staring at the foreigners invading their lives, we stared back, wondering at the contrast between new and old.

Immediately outside the border of this old life rose the imposing buildings advertising their multi-million dollar companies. Modern Shanghai noisily spies on the goings on of the past. Yet no one seems to mind this mix of ages. The architecture is extremely striking, although perhaps I only say this after living too long in a country that places little importance on the aestheticism of architecture. Parks wound their ways around the buildings, opening to the sky and sunlight that poured across the sidewalks.

The city was exceptionally crowded while we were there, since, similarly to Korea, they were celebrating a lunar holiday for most of the week. Attempting to maneuver through the crowds, we found our way to the plethora of shops and restaurants. Both were excellent and, as we incessantly pulled out our wallets, all gladly took our money. Due to the festival, we were able to watch the fireworks south on the river as we sat on a rooftop bar tucked into the Bund.

As we walked around the city, we tended to point out landmarks that were familiar to us, such as Western restaurants. Cries of "Starbucks!" were most frequent, as Shanghai seemed to rival even Seattle by placing a Starbucks at every corner. What a testament to communism.

Nearly as frequently as the beloved coffee chain were sighting of brides and bridal photo shops. The youth of the city seemed to all be rushing toward the altar, wearing various creations of white taffeta in the process. Our hotel, incidentally the oldest western hotel in Shanghai, had a wedding in their banquet hall every night we were there. Emily then appropriately entitled it the city of "Starbucks and wedding dresses."

But possibly the best time we had came on our last night, as funds wore thin and we continued our desires to splurge. We ate very well at an Indian restaurant, then went to a Jazz club that was a find from earlier in the week. Getting seats early, we had a little wine and great conversation. As the room filled, brimming with foreingers from a variety of countries, the band took their places on stage. Admittedly, I know little of music and can only identify what I enjoy. But Em has extensive talent and has spent years performing vocally. Liz lived in Nashville and worked at one of the world's largest record companies. So they know what is good. The guitarist that night, who from his accent we identified as being from a southern state of the U.S., was the most amazing I have ever heard. His talent was such that he kept the three of us closely between laughing and crying. His fingers flew so quickly that you couldn't actually see them. Oh, I wish I could describe music. It was amazing.

Shanghai has an appeal draws me in. As we left Gimhae airport in Busan, returning to our apartments, we all sat silently reflecting on the trip. The familiarity of Busan spread itself thickly, swallowing the warmth of remembering a vibrant city. I dreaded being back, being stuck here. Can I continue to work here? As usual, I have no answer. But as I met up with various friends last night, people I care deeply about, I know that I do not want to leave. I do not want to start all over again after I have such a wonderful community here. What I would really love to do is transport all my friends (in Busan and otherwise) to a city like Shanghai. But even I am not that great of an optimist.

The choice will eventually come. Most friends here are not permanently here. Most, like me, are working here only for a time. Meanwhile, the imminent end of my contract looms before me. What am I to do?

I sigh and sense the urge to end positively, to showcase my optimism. And so I shall. My time in Korea has been incredible. The people are ones I hope to know for a much longer time. I have learned so much of myself and of participating in a different culture. Emily, Liz, and I spoke of encountering our former selves, going back a year or two, of what that person might think of who we are and the choices we make. The mental image is somewhat comical, thinking of me talking with myself. The old Aubrey would not be able to understand who I have become. I am unsure that even I understand her. I once was so very set on my life, on how it should look and what I should do. As I have garnered life experience, so much within me has changed. I like this new person.

Liz showed us yesterday a beautiful quote by Mark Twain, one that I feel perfectly summarizes this state of semi-optimistic uncertainty.

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.- Innocents Abroad

And so I shall continue to travel. One can only guess at what the next place will be.