Greetings from Canyon Cafe: Koreatown

I'm not sure how clear it has been to you all how much Andrew and I have planned out our trip. Let's put it this way, the only place we had booked before leaving Seattle was here, the Grand Canyon. Everything else has been pretty on the fly. You know, I wouldn't advise people to "plan" like us, but it's worked out pretty well. It also allows for us to take breaks, and if you know us you know that we are the kind of people that feel entitled to a break even from vacation.

As we left Vegas, we knew we were headed to LA. We knew that we were staying with my friend Alex and her roomie Phil. That was about it. It was about when we passed the world's tallest thermometer in Baker, CA that I pulled out the iphone to start researching what should we do. In my minds eye, I imagined Andrew and I as the young actors from My Girl 2, wandering around a 1970's celebrity playground, watching the freaks, dodging Hare Krishna, getting my ears pierced, coming of age at the Chinese Theater and finding the meaning of life at the La Brea Tar Pits. Iphone did not offer up any such "LA in a Day" but, I did note though a large section of the city called Koreatown. I figured I may as well take the opportunity to pay homage to my people and grab some grub while I was at it.

I didn't really know where Koreatown started and stopped but everything I had read had led me to believe that you would know it when you saw it. Andrew was finding no comfort in such a navigation style as we drove through the city, feeling familiar with all of the "as seen on tv" street names. "Maybe it's on Melrose, or Rodeo." I felt like I knew my way around simply based on Clueless refrences. I recited Alicia Silverstone's lines obsessively throughout out visit. "Lucy! Where's my white collar-less shirt from Fred Segal?!"

Anyway, we drove and drove until, "oh there's one!" We passed a sign with the familiar Korean writing I knew from food packaging when I was a kid. There was a hair shop and a Korean BBQ. I asked Andrew to go around the block. I knew there must be more. We passed some Carniceria and taco trucks intermingled with Korean Fried Chicken restaurants and Korean cell phone stores. Then it happened. Suddenly, English began to disappear and the one Korean BBQ turned into thirty. Every street corner offered "all you can eat Korean BBQ" or "Lunch Special Korean Noodle." There suddenly were no more white people. There were plenty of Latinos but also, as far as the eye could see, there were my people with no eye lids and high cheekbones. I was pretty excited to find a grocery store. We stopped at the Koreatown Galleria. I've been to Asian markets in the US, but never one just catered to Korean people. Honestly, Andrew was the only not Korean person we saw for the couple of hours we hung out there.

It was like being in Korea. There were no menus in English. Andrew ordered his lunch by number. I luckily knew the Korean name of my lunch choice, even though I was ashamed to have my pronunciation corrected. We ate upstairs in the food court. I looked from vendor to vendor deciding what I wanted and where I wanted to get it from. Yuke Jang- Spicy Beef Noodles soup. Andrew ordered Spicy Chicken Teriyaki. Now, when you order a meal at a Korean restaurant come hungry. You not only get a large entree of whatever you ordered but you also get an entire meal of Banchan, or side dishes. These ban chan can be anything from vegetable pancake, to jap chae, to kimchee, fishcake, anchovies, coleslaw, potato salad, to steamed eggs. They are delicious.

As, we waited for our food a lady wandered up to us in dirty clothes and a quite but high pitched voice. "Do you hap a dorra or a couper pen-ni?" She was probably homeless but surely hard up. We said no, apologized, she asked again and I against my gut still regretfully said no. I was in shock. I had never seen a Korean person in this state. I turned to Andrew and said as much. I explained that Korean people are too family oriented for that to be a usual thing. Even if it wasn't out of love I can't imagine the pride that Koreans have letting that sort of thing happen. But, I didn't grow up around Korean people much. Koreatown is very big and unlike the Korean circumstances I knew growing up not everyone is the same socioeconomically.

By the time I had finished my beansprouts, I had really started thinking about being Korean and being, uh, Korean-American. The thing is I don't often think of myself as being Korean. I'm half. Half is white. I never understood it much before this food court experience. My experience with Korean people for the most part has always included some sort of prejudice. When I was growing up there was usually always some Korean group at school. They probably didn't know that I was Korean, nor did they care. They spoke Korean, dressed in name brand clothes, drove nice cars, and kept to themselves. It was always very obvious that even if I wanted to I couldn't hang out with them. Being Korean is like being in a secret society. When my Mommy and I go to lunch they always bring her tea and bring me water. I'm sure the assumption was made because I'm white I prefer water, but I don't see it that way. I think that getting tea is a privilege. It's like why I'm never going to be able to bargain down a Korean salesperson as much as my mother. It's why every time I'm with Mommy we get way more banchan than I do if I'm by myself. The more Korean you are the more privileged you are. I'm only half.

I have some disdain for that. That's why I have an American Flag bikini and not a Korean one. I'm American. But, here's the thing, I'm not really welcomed to the other side. Koreans fly under the radar here in America. Unlike any other culture I've known, they have maintained a very specific and secret life here. We halfies are one of the few ways in, marriage, and business are probably the others. You don't really meet a lot of full Koreans around, unless they work at Nordstrom or are selling cell phones. I think I know why. Privacy is key to Korean people. They don't like to be watched, they don't like being in pictures unless they're prepared, they don't like being asked questions. Now, I will admit these statements are based on assumptions that I have because of my Korean mother, but she's always been right about most things. Americans are nosy. Now, I think Americans are friendly, but to my mother, Americans are nosy. I believe this is why Korean people have not really assimilated into American culture. I mean think about it, if you live in an area where there are a lot of Korean people, there is something like a Koreatown.

Koreatowns are so interesting to me because, it's like being in Korea. As an American they could care less if you like the way they do things. The businesses in Koreatowns don't care about white business. They don't need it. They don't play by white rules. They don't need to. Korean people take care of there own. That's why in Koreatowns you can have five restaurants that serve the same things on the same block and none of them have English on the menu. They stick to their own. Until recently Korean culture has been a well kept secret in this country. I think if they could they'd keep it that way. For generations Koreans have just fine keeping it Korean. Koreans go to Korean mechanics, they go to Korean markets, they go to Korean travel agents, have Korean lawyers, buy Korean facewash. No wonder they are such a proud people. They have for all this time managed to stay true to they're values and to they're own. Korean people may not be very welcoming but they are loyal. I know from the outside they seem stuck up but think of it like this. When you are in a Koreatown, you are the visitor. Though you didn't get your passport stamped you have left America and found yourself in a culturally rich and secret place. Be respectful and thankful for what experiences you can get and savour the feeling of being a visitor in your own country.