Signing off...

I went for a run this morning along a river in Daegu, South Korea, speckled with cherry blossom trees and elderly couples wearing face masks and translucent visors that you’ve only seen in old casino movies. As I would down and headed back towards my hotel, I passed by two older ladies wearing brightly-colored winter jackets and white winter gloves, sitting on a bench under a wooden gazebo talking, one with her arm around the other, and it all came rushing back…

A year ago when I booked this job my friends and family all assured me that traveling through Asia would be a life-changing experience. I needed no assurance, mind you, yet I would personally opt for a different word. “Changing” does not quite fit. Anyone reading this blog who has done any kind of traveling can attest that seeing the world is most definitely a life-enhancing experience, and having already traveled to ten different countries (I’m not counting standing on North Korean soil) on four continents before my 25th birthday, I hope that no one thinks of traveling as some distant idea or sees any part of this world as an unattainable destination. People talk of catching the “travel bug,” and there’s no wonder it’s out there, for experiencing other parts of the world have only enhanced my own life and that surrounding me, and that is quite addictive.

Having already received the question a few times before having even gotten off a plane in the States, I am sure that one of the top inquiries when I return will regard my “favorite” experience on tour. Anyone who knows me will tell you I don’t like answering these superlative questions, yet for purposes of summation and brevity, I have to pinpoint my week spent exploring Tibet. In light of the recent events and protests, the CNN headlines and New Yorker articles, I have looked back upon my week in Tibet with awe and sadness, realizing that I may well be one of the last tourists for a long time to see Tibet as I did. Yet recent ‘news-worthy’ events have not highlighted that experience for me as much as seeing how that one concentrated week of sight-seeing, picture-taking, and spiritual surveillance sums up many of my experiences during the last nine months.

In China I visited and photographed more temples, Buddhas, pagodas, and carvings than I thought I would ever see in my life, yet what strikes me more than the colors and sweeping roofs is the living spiritual history surrounding each and every one of those places. Turning a corner in New York City, you may witness an inspiring architectural achievement reaching up towards the sky, and driving through a small town in Pennsylvania you may come across a man riding a horse and buggy, thinking to yourself how peculiar and foreign that seems. Yet the century- and millennium-old history surrounding so many of the “attractions” throughout China form eras, dynasties and empires and are rooted in beliefs and spiritual practices that have inspired wars, driven countries and families apart. How do you even look at a bedroom that has housed the man responsible for building the Great Wall of China?

As you have gathered from numerous previous blogs, the people I have encountered have provided me with many stories and anecdotes, yet there remain a few points I cannot recall if I have touched on; one being the treatment of women in China and Korea. Perhaps my perception is somewhat skewed given that the majority of people I have dealt with are related in some way to the “service” industry (cab drivers, waiters, hotel employees, dressers at work), but it never ceases to amaze me how women seem to be considered inferior to men in many parts of China and Korea. Women also uphold an unfortunate standing of servitude in society, especially in China, where men are seen as more dominant, more nurtured, and more important. I do not wish to blanket these two countries by claiming that sexism seeps through almost every scenario and relationship I have encountered; yet it has seemed an inescapable inequality that I would be remiss in not mentioning.

Also, I cannot recall a time since my 6th grade China studies section when I seriously considered the concept of “saving face.” It is an ever-prominent and underlying social condition that influences day-to-day as well as more sweeping, important decisions made by locals everywhere in Asia. Everything from getting publicly yelled at for butting in line at a bank to giving someone a dish they didn’t order at a restaurant is shaped by the concept of “face.” It is something grander than what we in America may consider getting embarrassed or disappointing someone; here the tiniest things are a matter of honor and respect that affect not only oneself, but one’s name and one’s family.

In the last week we have been subject to a comprehensive culmination to many of the frustrations on tour. Dressers, carpenters, lighting technicians and anyone else working off of a paycheck have tried to hold their own in resisting coming to work (striking) without getting paid. Our local producers have not paid some people in weeks, others in months, and our American production company was the last straw when THEY did not get their paycheck from our Korean presenters. We have taken all of our personal belongings home almost every night in case we did not have another performance the next day, we have waited until twenty minutes before curtain to find out IF we were performing, and we have been living at the mercy of our local ass-backwards presenters for weeks now, wondering when our tour would actually end and when we’d be able to give our final performance.

Time and time again decisions have been made on tour that seem utterly impractical, ill-informed, and just plain wrong, but we have all come to learn that many times that is simply the way things are run here. In China we joked that if you wanted to figure out what was going to happen, think of the most practical, easy, or reasonable way to get it done, and then reverse it. I can’t help but believe that concepts like “saving face” come into play when dealing with making decisions that affect hundreds of people in a company or production, that sometimes just giving in and doing the right thing (like paying someone) might also mean admitting you are wrong, and that would be disgraceful. Being on the powerless end of the bargain, I have learned that going with the flow is not just an expression, but also a way of life here.

And so having gone with the flow for nearly nine months, I am ready (oy, am I ready) to jump off the rickshaw and back onto the New York subway system, find my way out of the rolling hills and beautiful landscapes and back into the chaotic crowds permeating every crossway in Times Square. I don’t know exactly why two women sitting on a bench by a river in Daegu sent me reeling into this summing up frenzy. Perhaps it reminded me of the things I do now but will not see on a regular basis. A monk in full attire wearing a “puma” ski cap and Adidas sneakers. Two straight men walking down the street, one with his arm around the other. Children running, parent-less, around the street. Dried squid and stewed beetles being sold off a street cart.

I may be across the world, but I am still only a matter of hours away. And somewhere that close can’t be that different. Can it?