tea diaries ~~~~~ groooooovy

So ... I just got back from a Korean funeral.

...

I almost feel bad about blogging about this, given the slightly touristy nature of my whole approach in each entry ... buttt ... death is a part of life. And as a religion major, death rituals are often the juiciest parts of life. So here goes.

I actually didn't go to the funeral proper, I went to a "pre-funeral ceremony" for the father of one of the second grade teachers at my school. Apparently this goes on for 3 or 4 days and then they have the actual funeral, at which only family and friends are usually present. The teachers in Korea are always very tight though, and it is expected that all the teachers in the school will attend this "pre-funeral ceremony". So there I was. I knew Mi Sonsengneem only as the smiley, non-English speaking Home Ec teacher who sat near the middle of the kyo-mo-shil (teacher's room), and I had no idea what to expect. Would I be praying in front of a body? Would there be awkward standing-around-talking-to-other-people-quietly time that I so loathed at functions like these, even when I COULD speak the language? I don't own a black shirt over here, good thing I had a black sweater! :)

When I got there, I found that it was actually attached to the hospital. We were breezed past Confucian-looking men in yellow suits and pope-like but solid yellow hats, some with long beards who obviously served some sort of ceremonial function, and some men who just looked like anyone you might see on the street - with a yellow hat on. We were led past columns of white flowers, past rooms on the first floor packed with yellow-hatted people sitting on hard wood floors talking and bowing, up some stairs and into a ... cafeteria. My coteacher motioned me to sit with some of the other teachers I knew just as a woman in what looked like a 19th century peasant outfit came past me. The first thing I did when I caught her face was smile - in that instant I recognized the Mi Sonsengneem. I blurted out "yoo-gum su-rop-simnida", the line I had been muttering under my breathe the whole car ride, which roughly translates "I'm sorry for your loss." I hope she heard me. There were tears in her eyes, but she looked strangely perfect in her yellow robe and little white bonnet. Although all the guests wore black, she was wearing yellow and white.

We sat and listened to the general din of the place as small side dish plates of kimchi, radishes, and beansprouts were brought before us, and then a bowl of noodle soup. About halfway through a silent meal, my coteacher started talking about our plans to go shopping for a new cell phone battery later that week, which seemed a little odd to say the least. Mi Sonsengneem went back and forth, sometimes helping serve and sometimes exchanging a few words with someone. There was a small divider and on the other side was another room of people eating noodles and kimchi and beansprouts, drinking water and beer and soju, and looking vaguely respectful and courteous. And another peasant girl in yellow and white.

After maybe 15 minutes of eating, some of the teachers got up to leave the cafeteria and we followed. We were already outside and heading toward the car when I realized that that was it. My coteacher hadn't even talked to the second-grade teacher at all. A little strange - we arrive, eat a meal, and then leave. But there was a different sort of solemnity to the whole thing, I can't really explain it. When in Rome, ehh?

Last week actually, my great-grandmother on my father's side passed away. She lived in Iowa, and I've met her once or twice, but I didn't really know her. My dad is out there right now ... maybe we were both at funerals today, halfway across the world.