Precisely what is theoretically at stake in travelling: not discovering far countries and exotic habits, but making the slight move which shapes the mapping of the 'there' to a 'here.' That mapping is the additional way, that is to say the human way of making flesh with words and sense with flesh.
-- Jacques Rancière, 1994: 30

prologue

Every voyage is the unfolding of a poetic. The departure, the cross-over, the fall, the wandering, the discovery, the return, the transformation...
-- Trinh T. Minh-ha, 1994: 21

Family in tow we fully ran the last couple of hundred metres to the gate and had the most unceremonious departure imaginable. By the time the plane took off I was bawling and everyone else on the plane was wondering why I was so upset about a wee flight to Christchurch. In Christchurch we had several hours to kill before boarding the international flight so we parked up in a bar with a pool table and got tanked... It didn't start to get real until we boarded again in Singapore after the stopover. Everybody else on the plane was Korean. They were whiny and nauseating. The food was Korean too. It was terrible. I was like “Oh my god, what have we done?” We got in at six-fifty in the morning in the middle of winter: it was like negative six degrees and we were still dressed for Singapore's heat because our over-weight bags had been checked all the way from Wellington to Incheon. With our new boss due to arrive any minute we took turns ducking into the bathroom to get changed into something warmer and more presentable, and then sat down and waited.
-- Debbie: arrival story

And so the adventure began. I did not come to South Korea as an anthropologist: the anecdote above is not specifically a piece of 'confessional field literature'. In fact, anthropologists do not have, and have never had, a monopoly on travelling to 'exotic' locations and trying to 'make sense' of them. This may seem like stating the obvious, but it seems easily forgotten that not only are anthropologists not alone in their search for the authentic experience of the 'other' but they are also often part of a sociological category &ndash 'travellers' &ndash for which experience of the other (authentic, involuntary or otherwise) is definitive. The implications of both truisms easily slip though the cracks of the collective anthropological ego so let us explicate them here. Firstly, other kinds of travellers can therefore be compared to anthropologists, and by extension other kinds of travel can be compared to anthropological fieldwork; secondly, anthropologists can therefore be compared to other kinds of travellers, and hence ethnography can be compared to other kinds of travel narratives. Ironically, as more and more studies of tourists, migrants, refugees and the like come out anthropologists are becoming a sociological other.

introduction

As already mentioned it was not as an anthropologist that I came to South Korea. For myself and my husband South Korea is one stop in our 'Big O.E.' - the revered Overseas Experience, the quintessential rite of passage for the modern (and post-modern) transnational world. Searching, as we were, for the 'full-on' authentic experience we chose to be sojourners, not tourists. We organised jobs in South Korea teaching English at a private institution. These schools are a huge industry in South Korea, and a significant means of travel throughout parts of Asia and Europe for native English speakers with the required qualifications. In this case the required qualification is a three year Bachelor's degree in almost any subject.

Inevitably where there are expats, there are expat communities. Seosan (population 150, 000), the nearest city to my location, had a very strong local community when we arrived, supplemented by frequent visitors like ourselves from surrounding towns. My husband and I live near a small town called Daesan where, for a while at least, we were the only foreigners; we were very grateful to be welcomed into the Seosan community. The group is very dynamic: with people coming and going as contracts start and finish the composition of the group and the relationships between each person and the group are constantly in flux. Over the past twenty-three months the group has changed a great deal. Continuing relationships between people as they disperse are testaments to the strength of the ties formed. Those who have moved on to work in Seoul (as many do) are still part of the social scene and visits are made in both directions both individually and en masse. Further, those who have left Korea altogether are still in the loop, friendships persist via email - that cornerstone of modern transnational friendship. As new teachers arrive they are incorporated into the group, replacing those who have moved on, and adding to the ever-widening circle.

The group is diverse, but not so diverse that it cannot be described. Ages range between twenty and fifty, but most fall in the early to mid twenties. Male to female ratios fluctuate, as do the proportions of the various nationalities. New Zealanders are perhaps slightly over-represented, North Americans are definitely under-represented due to a Korean preference for North American English usage and pronunciation that positively discriminates for them in the job market. In practical terms this means that most North Americans are employed in and around Seoul and Busan, the two main cities in South Korea. At the moment the group is almost entirely made up of British and New Zealand teachers. All native teachers (as they are called) have a university qualification, so a high level of education is universal. The nature of the situation for which they sign up means that native teachers are generally also confident, out-going, stimulated by and tolerant of other cultures.

Steered by the behaviour of the subjects it is their anecdotes and the discussion in which they are embedded that I chose to study. Whole evenings of social interaction were tape recorded or stored as 'head notes' for transcription later. Narrating the experience is as important to sojourners as it is to anthropologists, and it sometimes seems that the native habitat of an English teacher in South Korea is the down at the local pub with friends yarning the hours away. It is in this respect that my position as an inside ethnographer is not disjunctive – I am not intruding on this scene, there is little or no attempt to censor or otherwise alter interaction on my account, even while the tape recorder is rolling. The methodology suits the study. On the other hand, anecdotes are more than verbalised stories they are performances, complete with crucial elements of intonation and gesture; represented here they are reduced to the words that signify them, a destructive process that serves as a metaphor for language itself. This is the inherent weakness in the methodology: to fully convey the qualitative value of the anecdotes would require more than words on paper. That said, substitute 'experience' for 'anecdotes' and you have the fundamental paradox of ethnography.

I have protected the identities of the subjects by using pseudonyms, although I'm sure they will recognise themselves and each other by their stories. In the classroom most English teachers assign 'English names' to their students (as specified by institutional policy) ostensibly to maintain the illusion of the immersion method, but more likely in order to make it easier to remember all their names. I have turned this around and named the subjects using the kinds of 'English names' we would 'bestow' upon our students. It has a kind of irony that appeals to me as an English teacher. I appear as myself not because I want to escape the renaming process but because I want to remain visible and transparent to the reader. My husband appears both as 'my husband' and under a pseudonym depending upon the context. The names of locations are not disguised.

culture shock

Culture, in its broadest sense, is what makes you a stranger when you are away from home.
-- Philip K. Bock, 1970

Debbie:--You don't have to talk about Korea
Kate:--I know
Lily:--Nah, we have to live it!
-- Group conversation 2004.07.17

'Culture Shock' is no longer merely a psychological buzz-word, it is now a commonly accepted phenomenon associated with all kinds of travellers – from tourists to refugees. 'Commonly accepted' does not mean that it goes unchallenged within academic circles, but it continues to dominate discussions of travel and inter-cultural relations in one form or another (for example Bock, 1970; Suvantola, 1988; Rancière, 1994; Pedersen, 1995). Furnham and Bochner observe that:

like a lot of pseudo-psychological jargon..., it is more of a generic expression connotating much and signifying little—a term which in attempting to explain all, fails to explain a great deal.

-- 1989: 47

Whether it be relationship based, skill based, behaviour based or identity based (or all of the above); culture shock, culture stress or culture fatigue; three stage or five stage, 'U' curve or 'W' curve it is apparent from studies, stories and (confessional) field accounts that people experience certain kinds of difficulties when confronted with another (an-Other) culture. The emotions that characterise descriptions of 'culture shock' are many and varied. In Adler's influential Five Stage model (1975) these emotions range from excitement and stimulation in the initial contact stage; through confusion, isolation and apathy (disintegration stage); frustration, anxiety and rage (reintegration phase); empathy and self assurance (autonomy stage); and culminating in trust and humour, tempered by elements of all other stages, in the independence stage. Obviously there are problems with this model, not least of all the linear, progressive and teleological nature of the process described. Undeniable though, is that the very reason for the persistence of the concept and the associated models - they resonate for people.

According to Suvantola:

Culture shock is thus essentially a social phenomenon, referring to our relationships with, and perception of other peoples.

-- 1988:196

There is a definite relational aspect to culture shock. Part of this aspect, and probably the most frequently given gloss for culture shock, is the difficulty and confusion that arises when dealing with another culture. Specifically, dealing with another culture on its own turf so to speak; on its own terms. Usually this is a result of being a visitor, sojourner or newcomer to the culture, being unfamiliar with cultural norms and social etiquette. Matt, a recent arrival, commented that:

Actually, the work's easy, it's everything else that's hard.

-- Personal conversation 2004.11.27

The difficulties arise not only in negotiating facilities, services and institutions but also in negotiating relationships; both personal and fleeting. The sense of being socially and culturally ignorant and incompetent, often expressed as feeling like a child, is disconcerting, to say the least. This is particularly salient in the case of foreign teachers (and anthropologists); as Furnham and Bochner point out:

An ironic twist is that individuals in this predicament, such as foreign students, business people, diplomats, and so forth, often tend to be highly skilled in the verbal and non-verbal practices of their own society and find their unaccustomed inadequacy in the new culture particularly frustrating and embarrassing.

-- 1989:15

For such educated individuals it can be difficult to come to terms with one's own ineptitude in the new culture. Frequent failure to achieve the outcomes that one intends can lead to feelings of impotence and powerlessness.

An often overlooked relational element in culture shock is the effect of the locals attempting to negotiate you. Relationships are always two way, and while the foreigner tries to navigate the new culture members of the new culture are also trying to deal adequately with the foreigner. Being 'managed' by the 'natives' is a potent reminder that it is the foreigner who is the stranger, the outsider. For sojourners, in particular, the security of ethnocentrism is challenged by the evident fact that one is 'not in Kansas any more.'

Amongst the 'Seosan Crew' culture shock is an accepted fact. As Lily commented above, we don't just talk about it; we live it. The factors and details are myriad: the language barrier, the food, the job, the way that every little thing you do becomes a trial. Every culture shock experience is built out of different factors: some specific factors affecting 'Culture Shock South Korea' include the celebrity status of white, English speaking foreigners and their commodification by the schools they work for. Most contracts in South Korea are year long and come with a paid return airfare and subsidised (more often fully funded) accommodation. Despite the constant struggle a reasonable proportion of teachers renew or take a second contract elsewhere in Korea. A variety of reasons are given: the lifestyle, the experience, the money. The money is perhaps overstated as a reason, but it should not be understated as a motivation. For a young single person working in South Korea the lifestyle is very good from a financial point of view. A low tax rate and the provided accommodation mean that an average contract yields about two to two and half thousand New Zealand dollars a month in disposable income for a twenty-five to thirty hour week. Whether you prefer to save or spend the financial opportunity is significant. Under these conditions some stay two, three or even four or five years. I heard of a few who have been here ten years. The native teacher in Korea, then, is no tourist. These are sojourners, they are living culture shock, not just encountering it.

metaworld

The presence of other travellers who share the same situation makes it possible to quickly swap between the Other and relative familiarity. It can provide comfort from the strangeness of the Other.... A balance between at-homeness and novelty is thus unconsciously sought.
-- Jaakka Suvantola, 1988: 128

Like, I met her on the street, like, I was just like, oh I see a foreigner, I need a friend... And I was like "Hey, what's up?"
-- Anna: group conversation 2004.11.20

Studies of overseas students have emphasised three types of social networks amongst sojourners: monocultural, bicultural and multicultural (Furnham and Bochner, 1989: 15). Monocultural networks involve only fellow compatriots and are described as a setting for the 'rehearsal and expression of ethnic and cultural values', bicultural networks are friendships with people of the host culture, and multicultural networks include other non-compatriot, non-host foreigners, usually in a recreational and supportive capacity. These studies consistently suggest that it is the first and third types that play the most pivotal roles in the 'management' of culture shock (ibid). The Seosan social scene functions as both a monocultural and a multicultural network. While the 'West' is no monolithic, homogeneous cultural entity 'native speakers of English' is a very definite cultural group within South Korea. Defining an 'us' flocking together amid a sea of 'them', English speaking, Western culture is a rallying point for the sojourner community, thus it is a monocultual network in which we can be our 'cultural selves'. It is also a multicultural network, consisting as it does of a variety of nationalities (defined in this case by passport) who gather in an atmosphere of 'shared foreignness'. For many members of the group relationships within this network are the most significant relationships they have in Korea.

Some have or have had Korean partners and friends. While generally treated with good will and respect few ever become fully involved in the group. There are several reasons for this, and each case is different. In some cases the sojourner chooses to keep their friend or partner away from the group, in some the friend or partner chooses to avoid the group. This is more often the case with girlfriends than boyfriends or platonic friends, and is tied up with the apparent fragility and delicacy of young Korean women compared with the raucous nature of the group. Andy commented that he didn't want to 'expose' his sweet, innocent girlfriend(s) to the group, and until recently he didn't. The change in this trend was bought about by a more serious relationship, one involving 'couple rings' and her accompaniment of him home to visit his family. The decision by the Korean partner to remain aloof may be related to the generally separate nature of Korean men's and women's social circles. Especially once involved in a romantic partnership and especially where drinking is concerned there is a tendency toward segregated socialising. Particularly, when Korean men are out for a night of drinking their partners are rarely with them.

Another reason for the non-incorporation of a Korean friend or partner into the group is the language barrier. Unless the friend or partner speaks and understands English very well they will have difficulty being accepted: as we will see below fluent communication is central to the interaction of the group. Further, as noted by Wendy, the more exposure a Korean person has had to Western culture, or to non-Korean culture in general, the more readily accepted they will be:

The real friends that you make here that are Korean are the people that spent a lot of time overseas and you have more in common with them ... they understand Korean culture and they can help you with that but they also understand where you're coming from.

-- Wendy: group conversation 2004.07.10

This is related both to their ability to converse freely in English, but also to their ability to understand and sympathise with Western culture while still remaining fundamentally 'Korean.'

In one case there was no incorporation of the Korean partner into the group because the native speaker partner was instead entirely incorporated into the partner's Korean network. Brian is no longer part of the group; he has removed himself from it by consistently declining invitations and spending every weekend in another city with his (Korean) girlfriend and her friends and family. He has 'gone native' and has been treated with with exactly the same suspicion and ridicule as any anthropologist convicted of the same. Brian recently broke his contract in a nearby town in order to take a job at his girlfriend's school. His ex-communication is complete and he is now commonly described as 'owned'.

Suvantola draws on Hottola's concept of metaworld to describe a type of tourist space in which the traveller escapes the confusion of the Otherness that surrounds them and gains some sense of control:

Tourist space here is the metaworld that is our safe haven on the domain of the Other. The feeling of confusion can be escaped and there is little chance it could develop into a shock.

-- 1988: 199

This expanded metaworld is a kind of sanctuary built out of familiarity against an alien world. Amongst tourists it is maintained through the use of 'package tours' and tour guides and the eating of familiar foods. Sojourners are no less reliant on a metaworld, but they clearly do not have the same resources available with which to construct one. In this sense the mono/multi-cultural network functions as a metaworld, facilitating continued practice and acknowledgement of familiar social norms. Within the metaworld it is possible to not only temporarily escape the experience of the Other, but also to reflect on it, compare notes and affirm or challenge assumptions. While the ability to interact along intuitive cultural lines is significant, the opportunity to share, compare, vent and ridicule is no less significant. Amongst the Seosan Crew trips to local cultural sites and activities and to Seoul to see friends and/or indulge in the more familiar international atmosphere and cuisine is mixed with regular sessions of drinking and talking.

identity

identity is not to do with being but with becoming.
-- Madan Sarup, 1994: 98

One of the main functions of the group is to acknowledge, validate and contribute to the identities of its members. One of the overlooked aspects of 'othering' is that one is often 'othered' in the process. Cross cultural interactions are mutual and reciprocal; regardless of the power differential the two cultural 'representatives' are both Other to each Other. Confusion, frustration and misunderstanding can lead to othering processes that exaggerate and over-value differences and create not Others but aliens. One contributing factor in culture shock is the experience of glimpsing the Self as Other or, worse, as alien. This sensation is represented in the well known Sting song 'Englishman in New York' and again in the Shinehead version 'Jamaican in New York.' Barbara Czarniawska believes that:

there is no doubt that fieldwork is a major threat to identity of the researcher.

-- 1998: 42

The experience of being the stranger can seriously undermine the sense of self, in extreme cases threaten dissolution of identity: in terms of Adler's (1975) five stage model this would manifest as loss of self confidence, apathy and withdrawal, it could also be turned upon the 'perpetrator' as rage, hostility and suspicion. Minh-ha comments that:

If it's hard to be a stranger, it is even more so to stop being one.

--1994: 13

In this sense the group provides a social network within which to recontextualise the self; to maintain, affirm and renegotiate identity. The metaworld not only provides an escape from the othering of the Other but also creates a recognisable context in which to value oneself and be valued by peers. It's not just that members can 'be themselves' within the metaworld, sometimes it is only within the metaworld that the 'themselves' they want to be make any sense.

narrative

it has been claimed that narrative is the main model of human knowledge and the main mode of communication.
-- Barbara Czarniawska, 1998: 3

Kate:--John's stories are great...”fucken ... fucken ... fuck!”
Lily:--Yeah, I could hear you giggling over there.
-- Group conversation 2007.07.17

By far the most common social interaction shared by the group is that which western expat communities abroad are renowned for - drinking. What permeates all the social interaction though is that which fundamentally both defines and symbolises the group – talking; in fast, colourful, expletive-ridden, colloquial English. Even relationships with Koreans who speak English are tempered by a filtering of the language which results in artificial speech – whether it be simplifying grammar, standardising style or censoring subject matter. As discussed above this situation can effectively exclude non-fluent English speakers from the group. This aspect of speech behaviour is so significant for native speakers that it warrants attention and comment by them – John (a New Zealander) refuses to use a fake North American accent in the classroom (often requested by academy directors and parents), Max complained that his English has gotten worse since he came here and I recall that in the first few months my husband and I would come home from work and continue to use the pidgin English of the classroom to communicate with each other. Some people have a 'classroom voice', and it often spills over into their day to day life:

When I went home I went to a ... an ... elementary school ... I had a friend who worked there and I'm interested ... ah ... I'm kind of planning on being an elementary school teacher. But anyway, ah ... I had to read out some information or something like that ... when I'd finished speaking they said “oh ... okay, now why did he read that in a strange accent?”

-- Sam: group conversation 2004.11.20

Verbal communication is very important to the group, and lots of talking is done on a range of topics and in a range of styles during the drinking sessions. The most prominent styles will be no surprise to English speakers: the vent, the discussion and the anecdote.

Well, I started my summer school on Monday ... this is my, this is my bleat now, it's my turn...

-- Simon: group conversation 2004.07.24

The vent is an outlet for stress, a violent expression of frustration that is allowed to stand outside the general relationship between the speaker and his/her subject. Vents are not usually taken to indicate a person's real opinion on a matter, and are rarely held against people. Venting is almost universal within the group – a bad day, a bad class, working conditions, flatmates, a disconcerting or unsuccessful intercultural exchange ... there are any number of leading factors in venting, usually related to the experience of 'being here'. The role of the group is to hear, sympathise and support the venting, and reciprocate in order to legitimise the behaviour. In extreme cases when venting is too vehement or too prevalent it may be taken as indication of a negative attitude and disdained.

Fred:--There's really no intervention here, people just let things happen to other people ... last weekend I watched a guy like beat his wife on the street ... you know like in the States somebody would intervene...

Wendy:--I read somewhere that ... in Korea the responsibilities that come with friendship and family ties are so much greater than in the West and they're less liable to help someone they don't know because they have all this stress created by their other relationships and it's just like, you should put everything into these relationships and that you shouldn't deal with strangers...

Fred:--This whole thing that we're talking about though, I think that in Korea there's a huge depreciation for the value of life ... just life in general ... like my kids will come to class with a hamster in a plastic bag... it's just like it's a disposable living thing....

-- Group conversation 2004.07.10

Discussions can be both serious and playful, aimed at sharing information and opinions and working together to derive conclusions. The level of education among the groups means that discussions are frequent, lively and highly appreciated. Discussions can centre around music, movies, fashion, politics – all the standard subjects for such a demographic – but will often turn to Korea: the people, the environment, the food, the 'culture', the experience etc. Sometimes a discussion involves all those present, sometimes the group will splinter into several smaller discussions. Discussions are also repeated, reformulated and revisited among different combinations of group members.

Usually an anecdote is based on real life, an incident involving actual persons or places. However, over time modification in reuse may convert a particular anecdote into a fictional piece. Sometimes humorous, anecdotes are not jokes, because their primary purpose is not to evoke laughter. An anecdote is in the tradition of both the parable and fable, but is distinct from them in several ways. It need not be a metaphor, but only an illustrative incident. It may or may not have a moral, a necessity in both parable and fable.

-- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anecdote

Related to the parable and the fable (as noted above) the anecdote is a critical modern method of colloquial story-telling. Anecdotes are greatly enjoyed at Seosan gatherings because of their ability to turn culture shock into culture comedy.

I have a friend he, he lives in Seoul but he lived in the States for ten years and, ah, he has a joke: there's a Korean, and he's in Los Angeles and he's in a terrible car accident, he's trapped in the car and it's on fire and the paramedics, they come ... “Are you okay? How are you?” “I'm fine thank you, and you?”

-- Fred: group conversation 2004.07.10

They perhaps seem offhand and trivial but can actually be loaded with symbolism or subtle (and not so subtle) expressions of opinion.

In fact today at school I went to the bathroom, at school, and I heard this whimpering from the ladies' side and I looked through and there's this little kid about four just standing there, pants down around her ankles, she was going [makes a plaintive face] ... I just went “Forget it bitch!” and walked out.

-- Simon: group conversation 2004.07.24

They may be used in support of a point made during a discussion, or offered as affirmation of a commonly accepted generalisation.

Kate:--Do you remember like two years ago in Seoul there was that crazy man who set off a bomb in the subway ... and thousands of people died... [sic – it was in Daegu, and only about a year ago]

John:--a hundred and twenty or something, yeah

Kate:--okay, yeah

John:--tens of people...

Kate:--It wasn't because they were trapped or anything, it was because they wouldn't break the window. The Koreans have been taught if you break a window then it's really bad, so they just sat there and burned to death ... and like one carriage, a Korean man actually broke the window and got out and saved his carriage ... all the other Koreans sat there and texted their mothers and fathers saying “I'm dying, I love you” 'cause they wouldn't break the windows to get out.

-- Group conversation 2004.07.10

Sometimes they are just swapped like baseball cards in order to fuel laughter – a favourite antidote to the stresses of being a foreigner in Korea.

My kindergarten class is right after their lunch time, and they've like, in their little cubby holes they have their cup and their toothbrush and their little mini-toothpaste; but the teacher doesn't take them to the bathroom, they just are supposed to go to the bathroom, clean their own teeth and come back. But these are five-year-olds – five, six, seven – so I'll come into work and the bathroom's right next to the office and they're coming out holding their toothbrush and their cup: they're drenched, literally.

-- Sally: group conversation 2004.07.24

Anecdotes, by nature, travel. They will be told and retold in different social situations, a different emphasis added depending on the context or the point being made. Generally a person relates anecdotes about their own experiences, but in the absence of the subject of an anecdote another person may take responsibility for its narration, it becomes their anecdote for that telling. In this way anecdotes become myth as they transcend their original telling and become public domain.

narrating place

...In this sense, places not only feature in inhabitant's (and geographers) narratives, they are narratives in their own right.
-- Margaret C. Rodman, 2003: 206

Like my second or third week in Korea we were up in Seoul with Billy and Kelly ... um ... and this T.V. crew stopped us to interview us in Insadong ... and he was going “Oh what ... y'know ... what do you do, how long have you been here?” ... the whole shebang ... and he goes “so what's your favourite thing you like about Korea?” And he went around and Billy goes “oh, the people are really friendly” and Kelly goes “I really love the food,” I'm going “yeah, I'm just really enjoying the whole different cultural thing.” And then he goes “and what's the one thing you don't like about Korea?” and Billy goes “oh, there's nothing I don't like, I can't think of anything” and Kelly goes “no, no, I can't ... I really can't think of anything bad about Korea.” And then he goes “and how 'bout you?” and I said “well actually I think the place really stinks!” [referring to the poor sewer system] And then the guy goes “Well there you have it – the foreigners think we really stink.”
Simon: group conversation 2004.07.24

The concepts of space and place and the relationship between the two have received a great deal of attention in anthropology in the past ten to fifteen years, and perhaps they have actually been over-problematised. Traditionally space was taken to be the raw material of objective reality; once inscribed with cultural context it became place, something existing only in the mind of the beholder. Recently this has been challenged as part and parcel of the questioning of the empirical paradigm and all that it entails. Edward Casey (1996) gives a good account of both past and present trends in this area, as well as a good example of the kind of philosophical and epistemological arguments being rolled out to facilitate 'emplacement'. The terms 'space' and 'place' are merely English words signifying categories of positioning. We cannot 'discover' their true meaning because their true meaning is invested in them by users of the English language. An experiential understanding of the concepts can be arrived at not by engaging in complicated philosophical or epistemological arguments, but by simply drawing on one's experience as an English speaking person.

My own interpretation of common usage is that a 'place' is a 'somewhere', the construction of which we will consider a little further on. Place is the setting of all human experience, be it real, surreal or unreal.

Space, on the other hand, is a certain kind of place – a portion, an abstract, somehow disconnected from the context of the place: for example empty space, I need some space, outer space, head space. Space, then, is an area (measurable or figurative) within a place that has a different quality or designation to the place within which it is located; it is an exception to that context. For example, my apartment is a place. It is the place where I reside, a sanctuary of my Self and a home away from Home. It has a bedroom, a computer room and a 'spare' room. Within the spare room is quite a lot of unused space. It is not the remains of the space that I invaded and contextualised, it is an area that I have designated as incomplete or unfilled. It is still part of this place, but it has been assigned the meaning 'empty'. Another example is I need some space -- a phrase that (when sincere) indicates a desire to separate oneself from a relationship without removing oneself from it. Space is not lacking in context, it is a bubble of alterity within a given context. In this sense outer space is not so much a vast uncultured emptiness as it is a break between planets in the place we call the universe. The universe is a context within which the planets have certain meanings, the space between them is a conceptual bridge between those meanings, serving to mirror the vast conceptual distance between them as well as provide an alternative context for the journey, both literal and figurative, required to visit them. Place, then, is primary: spaces are carved out of place for ulterior meanings to the ones in which they are located.

It is an anthropological truism that place-ness is not merely defined by location and landscape. Place is built through experience, memory, expectation and mythology (see for example Tuan, 1977; Tilly, 1994; Casey, 1996; Feld, 1996). The common thread running through the building blocks of place – experience, memory, anticipation and mythology – is narrative.

Places help to recall stories, and places only exist ... by virtue of their emplotment in a narrative.

-- Christopher Tilly, 1994: 33

Places do not exist until they are narrated in some way – either to oneself or to/with others. Landscape and location, where relevant, exist in a symbiotic relationship with place, simultaneously shaping and being shaped by the narratives associated with it. Different perspectives involve different narratives, or different renderings of the same narratives so places are multi-faceted, communally maintained yet individually interpreted/constructed.

When the sojourners of Seosan come together and narrate their experience of South Korea through verbal exchange we create a group concept of this place – the place that is South Korea for us. Each individual carries a different rendering, but they are often based on the same broad, brush strokes. The sharing of experiences, memories, expectations and mythologies during social interaction results in a shared imagining of Korea. As Suvantola points out:

The memories of a trip ... are clearly narratives, at least when they are communicated. Ultimately no narrative makes sense without a discourse of which the narrative is a part.

-- 1988: 244

This discourse is how we direct our attention, it influences what we narrate and what we don't. It is a domain of stereotypes, preconceptions and value judgements tempered by those qualities that led us here in the first place.

This place then is one of exaggerated alien-ness, embedded in exaggerated stories. It is a place measured along continua of “friendliness-hostility, reliable-unreliable, clean-dirty etc.” (ibid: 218). It is a place of open sewers, tacky pop-music, a history of suffering and a tendency towards derivative western iconography. It is also a place where it is safe to accept a ride with a stranger, where children have their own special holiday and strangers call each other by kinship terms. It is a place of contradictions: friendly, helpful people and sanctioned domestic violence; a great love of children and corporal punishment in public schools; state of the art technology and third world plumbing; obsessive personal hygiene and filthy schools, shops and hospitals. This is a place where they put cream on their bread, tomatoes on their cakes and mayonnaise on their fruit salad. It is anOther place.

conclusions

The imperative to travel signifies the quest for the acquisition of knowledge...
-- George Robertson et al, 1994: 3

In Seosan good times are had, stories and jokes are told, and the piss is most assuredly taken but this Korea that emerges is not merely an exaggerated and distorted caricature of the foreigner experience. Anecdotes are usually linked by or embedded in discussions, and the discussions often serve to thrash out meanings and explanations. By combining the experiences, memories, expectations and mythologies with information from a variety of sources (books, Korean friends, documentaries) attempts are made to understand, to empathise and to translate. The non-nonsensical place that arises from the vents, jokes, anecdotes and witty repartée is refined through discussions into a more complex and subtle rendering of this place, one with history, diversity, internal logic and alterity; one that differs from person to person.

That said, categories of thought do appear to rely on extant generalisations about Asia, just as Lila Abu-Lughod (1993) complains much anthropological research is directed by area specialisation. Factors such as population density, Confucianism, gender relations, saving face, homogeneity, community values and rapid globalisation are often invoked. Such dismissal via ethnocentricity is trite though, and misrepresentative of the process that occurs amongst the group. Pre-conceived notions may exist but this is an educated population who are aware of the existence and implications of pre-conceived notions. We do not merely gather anecdotes which confirm such conceptions as Suvantola suggests

When we recollect and reconstruct our past experiences it is natural to be selective and imaginative. This is helped by the fact that we tend to better remember the facts, which support our stereotypes and prior images...

-- 1988: 248

Actually sojourners are phenomenologists by default – they cannot help but start from an experiential perspective – and while we do engage pre-conceived notions while interpreting our experiences we sometimes renegotiate such conceptions in light of those experiences and the experiences of others. Culture is not destiny (to distort a phrase) and ethnocentrism is not impermeable.

In this way explanatory factors such as population density, Confucianism, gender relations, face, homogeneity, community values and rapid globalisation are not merely invoked, they are arrived at, evaluated, challenged, renegotiated and in some cases dismissed. An example of this is the traditional opposition of Western me-first individuality and Asian community-first values. In Korea this gloss is called into question by the apparent selfishness of many Koreans, and the lack of visible altruism noted above by Fred. Wendy's comment about the distinction between the obligations toward family and friends and obligations towards strangers adds to this by incorporating differentiation into the 'community' of the 'community values'. Later in that conversation I suggested that the idea that there was no native sense of individualism in Korea is a Western projection, and that what we perceive as selfishness in Korea is just individualism expressed differently and in terms of different priorities. Simon commented that the relative homogeneity of Korean society on a superficial level, masks the individuality but that individuality definitely exists. Pre-conceived notions were not invoked and upheld, they were arrived at and renegotiated.

Social networks are always more than mere facilitators of leisure activities; they are systems of support, validators of identity, and affirmers/challengers/renegotiators of social norms. In expat communities these functions are brought into clearer focus as members grapple with the consequences of culture shock. The native speaker teacher community in Seosan is a metaworld for its members, recreating the social contexts in which our identities, experiences and interactions make sense. Within the metaworld we are the Selves - the 'us' - and Koreans are the Others – the 'them'. This metaworld is a means of escape from the real world situation where in fact, it is we who are the strangers, the aliens, the Other. The familiar sanctuary of the group allows us to reduce culture shock by externalising the culture rather than internalising it. We dodge the proverbial bullet somewhat.

That is not to say that the group is a hideout or a closed gate community. It is a temporary respite only: on a day to day basis we are immersed in Korea - playing our assigned role as yongeo seonsaengnim (English Teacher), experiencing and reacting to culture shock and generally being affected by Korea. The metaworld is a distancing: a space within which to gather our thoughts and hone them. Venting, joking, ridicule and the like mark the boundaries of the metaworld, pushing the foreign elements back in order to create the space within which the inversion of Self and Other can occur. Purging ourselves of the frustration, confusion and 'subjective experience' that crowds us allows us to reach instead for an 'objective experience'.

As has been very effectively argued everywhere in the social sciences objectivity is just another kind of subjectivity – but it is a very particular kind of subjectivity, one that is still highly valued in the West. Objectivity is the epistemological foundation of science – social or otherwise – and once it is obtained within the metaworld the confusing experience of the other, and of being the other, can be more easily translated and incorporated into the self by being spun into knowledge. In truth the 'accuracy' of this knowledge is irrelevant. Within the scientific paradigm it is what the knowledge enables us to do that dictates its value. It must be able to reliably predict actions and reactions and not create dissonance within our conceptual matrix. Further, according to empirical precepts scientific knowledge is never proven right, it can only ever be proven wrong. Until it is proven wrong it stands as its own testament.

In this case the knowledge developed co-operatively in the metaworld progressively enables us to function confidently and sometimes even competently in Korean society, insofar as we are in it, and to learn more about ourselves as individuals, nationals, Westerners and human beings in the process. In the heat of the moment culture shock can drive us to dehumanise the Other in order to maintain of own sense of person-hood at the same time as we are othered by anOther person. The distance produced by the metaworld allows us to dispel the alien version of ourselves that we have perceived in the Other's interaction and rebuild our person-hood from the identity we maintain in the metaworld; once rebuilt we can use the knowledge we produce to rebuild the Other as a person also. The value of the knowledge is in humanising not destroying.

epilogue: narrating ethnography

Doing fieldwork is in many ways like moving into an alien culture.
-- Barbara Czarniawska, 1998: 33

Ethnographic fieldwork has come under increasing scrutiny in recent times. Questions such as - Is it possible? Is it valuable? Is it ethical? - threaten to compromise it's position as the definitive rite of anthropological passage. The realisation that

when we evaluate other people(s), we are largely unable to depart from the values we have internalised ourselves

-- Suvantola, 1988: 222

has undermined not just ethnographic authority but also ethnographic confidence. The question that seems to lurk beneath much of the rhetoric, remaining unspoken and unanswered is “Why are we doing all this?” The possibility that anthropological motives are really just an outgrowth of colonialism is really frightening.

Throughout the discussion of the native speaker community in Seosan parallels to ethnographic fieldwork have both emerged and been drawn. That anthropologists are sojourners cannot be denied, that fieldwork is a rite of passage similar to the 'big O.E.' is also self evident. Further, significant similarities arise around concepts of 'informers' and 'going native' as well as empathising with and translating the native perspective. The narrating of place and culture in anecdotes and discussions can be compared to the narrating of place and culture in ethnographic texts:

The anthropologist lives partial realities in the field for many reasons: one of them is the necessity of shaping experience toward representation.

-- Keith Ridler, 1996: 243; my italics

and the importance and kudos associated withdraw the knowledge-gathering process is significant for both groups:

There is a desire to know, but that desire has to be satisfied as a consequence of one's personal effort to reach for the knowledge, instead of it being imposed on us.

-- Suvantola, 1988: 145

That anthropologists experience varying degrees of culture shock in the field has been made apparent in confessional field literature, reflexive and experimental ethnography and discussions of ethnographic methodology and theory. Malinowski's field diary, published posthumously in 1967, refers constantly to fits of depression, lethargy, severe homesickness, anxiety and at one point an "overpowering numbness" (Malinowski, 1967: 37); all of which suggest he was suffering from culture shock. In her novel Return to Laughter Laura Bohannan (under the nom de plume Elenore Smith Bowen) candidly tells the story of her fieldwork in Africa and admits to feeling

...miserably inadequate to cope with my world or with theirs.

1964: 197

David Maybury-Lewis relates his guilt-ridden feelings of antagonism toward his Sherente hosts in The Savage and the Innocent (1965) and Hortense Powdermaker confesses to feelings of panic, the overwhelming nature of small irritations and an intense desire to interact with someone sharing the same basic assumptions in her ethnography Stranger and Friend (1966). Jean Briggs struggles terribly among the Utku of Hudson Bay while researching Never in Anger (1978) such that Renato Rosaldo comments:

Brigg's ethnography more nearly resembles the captivity narrative, a tale of deprivation and survival, than the romantic quest, a story of adventure and conquest.

-- 1993: 177

Even Claude Lévi-Strauss in his very proper travelogue Tristes Tropiques lets the odd comment slip that hints at

the mental disorder to which the traveller is exposed through abnormal living conditions over a prolonged period.

-- 1973: 383

The identity of the ethnographer is both 'at risk' and 'renegotiated' in the field, as forcefully demonstrated by several specific autobiographical accounts (For example Briggs, 1978; Kondo, 1986). It is apparent that, like other travellers, anthropologists in the field require a 'metaworld' in which they can "withdraw ... to repair the ravages to [my] spirit” (Briggs, 1978: 229); and as Watson points out it is generally acknowledged that

reflection at a temporal and spatial distance from our experience within a different cognitive and experiential context inevitably brings about further reformulations and recastings of our thoughts and ideas and the best way of expressing them.

-- 1999: 1

Almost all of the ethnographic texts mentioned refer to the necessity of distancing in some way to gain clarity or simply to preserve one's sense of self, even William F. Whyte in his seminal 1943 study Street Corner Society needed to get away from the field to get perspective. The desire for the company of peers is also commonly expressed in ethnographic literature. Lareau and Shultz (1996: 149) observe that almost all fieldworkers complain of loneliness and isolation. It is no great stretch to assume that all fieldworkers experience loneliness and isolation, even if they don't complain about it.

So there is no doubt that, like other sojourners, ethnographers experience culture shock and, moreover, it is an integral part of the fieldwork process. The similarities between the experience of anthropologists and the experience of the Seosan Crew should not surprise us, and probably they do not. What is surprising though is that the role of culture shock in the ethnographic process is so unexplored. Perhaps this is because it is the dirty secret of anthropology, revealed only in diaries or under pen names, but more recently creeping into fieldwork accounts and even into the ethnographies themselves. In a 1990 study of health and safety in fieldwork Nancy Howell recorded that a paltry 20% of respondents admitted to experiencing culture shock in the field, while a marginally more convincing 36% accused their colleagues of experiencing it (154). Perhaps anthropologists are just more resilient than your average sojourner or perhaps they simply do not recognise the symptoms; another explanation is that many of them are loathe to admit that they were less than masterful in the field.

The point here is not to 'discover' another ethnographic bias, I am suggesting that culture shock is a significant, even crucial component of the ethnographic process. I am suggesting that culture shock is one of the forces that drives anthropological knowledge-making (embedded in empirical knowledge-making as it is): that anthropologists traditionally harness culture shock in order to produce ethnography. Perhaps this is why there is such resistance to the idea of a native or insider anthropologist. Wendy expressly invokes this prejudice when she comments that Koreans who have 'stepped outside' Korean culture (through travel) are more useful to foreigners in Korea, both as friends and informants, than those who have not. Anthropologists also exercise this prejudice in the field - how can an anthropologist (or their informant) be intersubjective if they are not (at least a little bit) Other?

It is logically impossible to speak from an inside and an outside position at the same time.... The anthropological practice presupposes discontinuity, where a truly 'native' anthropology would require an essential continuity between the social space studied and the anthropological project.

-- Hastrup, 1995: 159

In studying this group I am clearly an 'insider' or 'native' ethnographer. Various debates rage about the advantages and disadvantages, superiority and inappropriateness of this method (see for example Abu-Lughod, 1991 and 1993; Kondo, 1986; Hastrup, 1995: 159; Rosaldo, 1993). At first I found myself agreeing with Kirin Narayan:

How 'native' is a native anthropologist? How 'foreign' is an anthropologist from abroad? The paradigm polarising 'regular' and 'native' anthropologist is, after all, part of received disciplinary wisdom.

-- 1998: 163

In fact my membership in the group I suppose to study is more complex than the decaying insider/outsider and subjective/objective dichotomies of anthropological controversy. It has been fairly well established that any perspective is situated and it is (perhaps not so) simply a matter of where; paralysis by the intense reflexivity of post-modernism is not a productive option for anthropology. Instead we must move past our colonial guilt and our mourning of the loss of objectivity (cunningly disguised as a celebration of subjectivism in which subjectivity becomes the new objectivity) and get back to the field. In this respect I did not feel compelled to defend or explain at length my decision to study 'my own': it was what it was and, like any other bias, it should be taken into consideration by the reader. It is at least acknowledged and relatively transparent.

Consideration of the relationship between culture shock and ethnography, however, led me to question that position. All culture shock models emphasise that the degree of difference between home culture and host culture will significantly impact on the severity and specific manifestation of the culture shock experienced by an individual. In this case I am possibly the most inside of insider ethnographers: these people are my friends, my peers and the field is my home. I have not had to journey to do this research, there was no 'reach' for this knowledge. The most problematic element methodologically with such nativeness is the ability to draw on oneself as an informant - and I won't pretend that I didn't. I have mentioned twice now that I did not come to Korea as an anthropologist. This is ironic, because it is my experience in Korea and my relationship with Koreans that I consider to have made me an anthropologist; my ethnographic rite of passage has been my entry into Korean society, not the researching of this essay. So then, what is native ethnography? Is it anthropology at all or is it sociology, maybe philosophy, or merely a kind of cultural navel gazing? Without culture shock, without an aspect of 'reach' is it any better than the 'armchair anthropology' of the past?

In his discussion of subjectivity in social analysis Rosaldo (1993) raises the idea of 'multiplex personal identities'. He uses it to argue an angle that I do not want to touch on here, but the concept is a useful one. At any given time a social being belongs to a plethora of networks and categories; at the same time they are also outside certain other networks and categories. The specific combination of belonging and exclusion contributes to the social life, role and identity of the person. They are, thus, both insiders and outsiders at the same time albeit to differing groups. This can be a cheeky way of getting around Hastrup's assertion that it is impossible to be both 'inside' and 'outside': since the anthropologist will always be an outsider on some level, even if only by virtue of the fact that they are an anthropologist (c.f. Hastrup, 1995: 157-9), there will always be some degree of 'culture shock' (however minute). While it is basically true it seems a little contrived and convenient as far as justifying native ethnography goes.

Perhaps Hastrup is correct and it is actually impossible to be both completely native and completely anthropologist; however I return again to Kirin Narayan's salient query: How 'native' is a native anthropologist? How 'foreign' is an anthropologist from abroad?” (1998: 163). It is, after all, a difference of degree not kind. Where does one draw the line? Surely everybody has something valuable to bring to the table: does being less native necessarily make for better narrative (and therefore better ethnography)? Really there is only one way to find out and that is to try, which is what I have done here. Hindsight will ultimately be the judge of this undertaking, and of insider ethnography in general. Regardless, we are all contributing to the same project, and as we have seen here it is a valid and worthwhile project - not the pursuit of objective knowledge but the humanising of the Other and, indeed, the humanising of the Self. In such a project we have nothing to lose from alternative perspectives. There is space enough for all approaches in the metaworld that is anthropology.

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