A few weeks ago a small group of young Koreans approached us on a busy street of Jeonju. They were all undergrad students spending a weekend together surveying foreigners for touristic data and getting them to sign a carton cut-out turned into a giant visitors book. After exchanging names and nationalities, they were surprise to see a group as diverse as ours. It begged the question: ’how did you all get together?’ … ‘we’re all Yonsei students‘.

We knew what followed. They unisonaly wowed and after holding their voices for a few more seconds another student stepped forward and added that his cousin was also studying at Yonsei. The group nodded in approbation.

This is just one of the many situations SKY students are used to in Korea, a nation glutted with graduates. For Koreans in their early 20s, not being a student is out of the question: 82% of all high school students go to University, highest rate of all OECD countries, and out of Korea’s 50M inhabitants, 3.8M are currently university students.

When the GFC began dooming Europe’s economies in 2008, reports on Spain’s overqualified workers mushroomed. My sensitivities for skill imbalances heightened, nothing worried me more than the looming job prospects before my eyes. But looking at Korea’s case, I’d say they are already ahead of us and even got there faster: “as late as 1977, fewer than 5 percent of Korean 18- to 22-year-olds went to college.”

In short, this is the story of how South Korea has come to count 40 public universities and more than 400 private colleges. Many of these will have to shut their doors in the coming years as the birth rate continues to plummet shrinking the numbers of aspiring graduates. Some estimate than in a few years, university students will outnumber those in high school. Hold on to your seats!

But this is in no-one’s mind yet. The present is a freshmen’s zenith, and these guys have it tougher than in any other modern educated nation. SKY applicants need to be among the top 2% performers in the university entry exams to be considered. Getting into one of the top institutions is more than just a matter of pride and self-achievement: graduates are given preference in civil examinations and other industry-access exams.

Social fragmentation

Aside from undergoing 18 years of parental pressure to become overachievers, young Koreans are socially fragmented since their first day in university.

“All my family wanted me to be was an 이대 girl, but I hated everything about it” That’s how a close friend of mine summed up her brief time as a Korean university student before opting out to Australia to pursue the life and studies she really wanted. She believes university in Korea is barely about a learning endeavour and becoming effective thinkers, it’s all about status.

이데 (I-de) is short for Ewha Womans University, the nation’s most prestigious female institution. Being an 이대 graduate does not only get you a better job but also a wealthier husband, quite possibly a Yonsei graduate. “Girls would reject guys from other universities, they would only date guys attending top institutions.”

“연세여 사랑한다” chanted during the 2011 Akaraka Festival. One of many Yonsei University’s cheering songs.

In the vicinity of these two universities, couples hold hands in black leather jackets, a popular university merchandise that advertises college, major and grad year of the owner. At night, in the same streets, classmates leave bars chanting Yonsei cheers and head for the subway station holding their student IDs, which also function as transport cards at an extra cost.

But if there’s a true instance of university-devotion, that has to be the university yearly festivals. Yonsei for example, organises a 3-day festival every May to commemorate its foundation. The closing ceremony (Akaraka), is an 8-hour sprint of K-Pop and mass cheering that bears similarities with hooligan songs or, ironically, their northern neighbour’s mass festivals.

Whether you think such devotion is justified or not, it’s a celebration of elitism in institutions that aim to “educate leaders who will contribute to humanity”. As I mentioned in the previous post, I am fortunate to be spending a semester here. It truly is a great institution, but its elitist nature and the way it tears young people apart doesn’t cease to shock me.

The scent of soju, yellowy dry winter days, kimchi flavour, 노레방 neon lights… South Korea hasn’t changed much since I first came here 2 years ago. Nothing has come to shock me, in the last 2 months I have effortless blended  into the routines of an exchange student: compulsively planning the weekend ahead, keeping my liver busy and pretending life will never cease to be this way.

So with already enough ado, this is how things are around here.

The University

Ticking Yonsei University as my first choice couldn’t have been a better option. Not only is one of the 3 most prestigious universities, but in my opinion, it’s also the best in terms of location and student life. Still, nothing to be proud of as most Koreans see employers’ obsession for prestigiousness as the biggest burden to get a fair go in the over-qualified job market. Many around here “feel sorry” for their

But in my 6-week experience as a Yonsei student I have learned to value many things about it: it’s minutes away from the bustling student nightlife of Sinchon, it has a great structured campus and facilities and its internationality makes it extremely accessible. That accessibility can sometimes kill the exciting prospects of a completely new environment.

I chose to stay at one of the international dormitories like most fellow exchange students. All of my classes (2 subjects taught in English and my intensive Korean course) are in the adjacent buildings. The chances of mingling with locals are scarce. In fact, several ‘senior’ exchange students chose to move to a 하숙집 (Hasukjib – boarding houses) to precisely avoid that.

Most students come to Korea with little or no knowledge of the language so the communication barriers are even bigger. There are several clubs and initiatives to help tackle this, but the overall feeling among many is that foreigners don’t wanna mix with Koreans and viceversa. This is probably the only thing I would change about my time here.

Travels

Not being new to Korea and the magnetism of new friends and a lively nightlife have allayed my desires for travelling a bit. Aside from a couple of days hiking, a visit to Ganghwa and a few museums, I haven’t really done much sightseeing. Hopefully there will be opportunities for a few getaways in the coming weeks: Jeju-do, Jeonju, Incheon, Yeosu, Suwon…

I’m also impatiently awaiting more friendly temperatures, blue skies and the blooming whites of cherry trees — a famous sight common across most Northeast Asia.

Adapting

Since I was already familiar with many Korean dishes: charcoal BBQ, ‘army’ stew (부대찌개), Bibimbab (비빔밥), Bulgogi (불고기)… the restaurants had little surprises left with the exception of Bosintang 보신탕 (dog meat soup) — which I hardly advice against. I like the spiciness of most dishes, the austerity of the eateries, the cook-it-yourself, the harmoniously flavoured side dishes and the affordable prices. I can’t say the same about the lack of vegetables or fruit, at prohibitive prices in any supermarket, or the yearning for bread, cheese and wine.

Perhaps the most difficult part was assimilating a society governed by rules of conduct. The student dormitory has the sole purpose of providing beds to students, the housing regulations and the building are designed to prevent residents from gathering. Koreans externalise their living spaces: game consoles , watching a DVD, getting coffee with a cat on your lap… even cooking at home doesn’t seem to tickle their fancy judging by the numbers of instant-ramen-loaded shopping trolleys. I get a feeling that Koreans, at least students, are either deprived of private space or prefer to live out and about every hour. I doubt I could keep living like this more than a few months.

Still, wouldn’t change anything about Korea. The first 2 months here have been some of the best in my life. No day goes without a new fascinating fact, a new friend and a story to treasure. I will try to publish some more reflections soon, stay tuned!

]]> http://edumariz.com/2-months-south-korea/feed/ 1 http://edumariz.com/next-stop-kore/ http://edumariz.com/next-stop-kore/#comments Mon, 13 Feb 2012 21:00:01 +0000 Eduardo Mariz http://edumariz.com/?p=196 As you read this I’m on my way to my next port of call: Seoul, South Korea.

I will be spending almost 6 months in Seoul completing my last semester as an undergraduate on exchange at Yonsei University. In hindsight, 6 months packed with Korean language, society and history lessons, long nights warmed up with soju and new faces.

It’s a journey I have impatiently awaited since my first Korean lessons 2 years ago. If time allows, I will start posting my adventures, thoughts and experiences in this blog in the coming days. Stay tuned.

아자 아자 파이팅!!

While 4 weeks of reporting and occasional copyediting won’t uncover a complete experiential picture, I think I’ve learned a few things:

Indonesia is the place to be. No matter how you look at it. The fourth most populous nation in the planet, a 13-year old democracy with a booming economy and a constant struggle against its woeful bureaucracy; add to that religious complexity, natural disasters and separatist movements … it’s a mine for untold stories. For Australia and other countries in the region, Indonesia is also soaring as an hegemonic neighbour, trade partner and diplomatic game-changer. It’s hard to imagine a future without a global interest for Indonesia. If you haven’t considered Indonesia yet, get down to it before it’s too late.

Indonesia has a long way to go. Trying to find a solution for any problem in Indonesia is often a vain attempt undermined by the ubiquity of corruption, conservative mindsets or an inefficient bureaucracy. For my development studies peers, Indonesia is something of a test tube for humanitarian and environmental initiatives. If it works here, it can work anywhere. They see Indonesia this way because few other nations are as vast and complex. There are many things Indonesia has to eradicate: extreme wealth disparity, corruption, water pollution, extremist interpretations of pancasila… and a many others that needs to implement: accesible education, better fostering of national talents, waste management…

Reality check for a western homegrown kid. Coming to the biggest muslim nation in the world is copious food for thought for bules like me. The role of religion in Indonesia can sometimes be an impediment for equality, freedom of speech or other western societal over-prided cornerstones. But what religion does for Indonesians outdoes any of those issues. It ties a country together, it helps provide education, health care and much of the limited welfare. And even with so much assimilation, most Indonesians choose to keep religion away from political affairs. Of course religious extremism, and particularly sharia law, is still an obstacle for the freedom of many Indonesians, but by no means should be seen as representative.

Indonesian is an easy language. The key to Indonesia is more accessible than you’d imagine. Adding ‘sudah’ (already) and ‘belum’ (not yet) for verbal tenses is the most revealing confession of its simplicity. For journalists, a command of the language is what every employer wants and every stringer needs. If with a 2 week crash course I managed  to make small talk taxi drivers and survive daily routines, I’m sure a longer exposure will make you fluent sooner than later.

I am sad to leave Indonesia. Over the past 6 weeks I’ve shared my days and nights with an amazing group of likeminded young people. The ACICIS 2012 Jakarta professional practicums brought together students of journalism and development studies from Australia and New Zealand universities. We became a big expatriate family.

Yesterday during the closing ceremony Philip King, director of the program, said “you can’t love someone until you meet that person”. Indonesia is like that, we have learned to love this country and many of us will return in the coming years if not months. And for people so capable and passionate hard not to imagine them making a big difference.

Personally, I hope an opportunity to come back will find me. Selamat tinggal, Indonesia.

It took me a couple of days to get my head around a map of Jakarta. Hint: most places are located along Sudirman Avenue, Central Jakarta’s main artery. Only a small portion of this colosal city, but probably the only expats like us will get to see.

It’s hard to understand how a city like Jakarta works -let alone how Jakartans survive it.- I like to think of cities as well-engineered urban planned environments. Trains and buses that fit around schedules, synchronised traffic mechanisms… Jakarta is nothing like that, is more like a living organism.

Food vendors sense your rumbling stomach before you. Macets (traffic jams) learn to unjam themselves. Ojeks (motorcycle taxis) spontaneously appear on any street corner if you are running late to offer their amazing space-time bending services.

Jakarta is also a culinary odyssey. Once I overcame my fixation for the words goreng, nasi, ayam and mie (fried, rice, chicken and noodles respectively) what was left was an endless array of padang delicacies. Jakarta days don’t go without finding a new dish in your palate. You are always spoilt with food.

Unless you live on or below the average Indonesian salary. Wealth disparity is one of the most striking things about Jakarta. On the streets, million-dollar cars drive past infant beggars. Well-off teenagers throw pompous birthday parties without even glancing at the five-year old girl outside selling tissue packages to pay for her meal.

A few metres down the road, in an up-class mall, a sign by a Japanese-inspired fish pond reads “feed us only gourmet food”. The fish “gourmet food” packets are priced higher than a humble ration of Nasi Goreng, bread of the masses in the form of fried rice.

Gruesome ironies that many Jakartans have learned to accept with seeming indifference. It’s a disgusting fact that in middle-class Indonesia needs to be addressed more than ever before.

ACICIS JPP: Bahasa Indonesia belajar and Seminars

The first two weeks of the program were jam-packed and exciting. Every morning we would rock up to class at 8:30 at the centric Atma Jaya Catholic University for our Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian) lessons followed by seminars and occasional field trips.

The two week crash course taught us how incredibly easy this language is. I first thought it wouldn’t teach me more than a few sentences to survive daily transactions with linguistic impunity, but surprisingly we learned more than just that. Only a few hours ago I managed to maintain an austere conversation with a taxi driver: I learned he had been living in Jakarta for 13 years, he likes the simplicity of his job, the good pay, Liverpool and the only thing he hates about Jakarta is macet (traffic jams). Success.

The lessons were also a great deal of fun, a fantastic way to get to know the rest of the ACICIS crew and start the day laughing. Our teacher Jevelin deserves most of the credit for that and her patience tolerating our humour and lack of ‘asian’ discipline, as she liked to put it.

In the afternoon, the seminars gave us a big picture of the state of media, politics and religion in Indonesia. Particularly interesting was the lecture seminar by Bambang Harymurti, CEO and editor-in-chief of Tempo magazine, one of Indonesia’s most respected journalists and publications respectively. He warned of the perils that Indonesian journalists face: defamation laws, corruption, death threats… while reminding us that Indonesia, despite its young democracy, sits in a better position than neighbouring countries like Malaysia or Singapore. No consolation here.

But if one visit impressed us all, that was clearly Australia’s Foreign Affairs Minister Kevin Rudd; he dropped by the university with only a few hours notice. Besides serving him as an idyllically staged opportunity to talk about the good relations between Australia and Indonesia, he delivered a speech with a very clear message: more Australians need (not only should) become more Indonesia-literate through initiatives like ours. During lunch we all got a chance to greet him and talk for a few instants. On an anecdotal note, he shared his concerns on the Spanish roaring youth unemployment figures and told me how much he enjoyed his visit to my region a few years back.

2 fantastic weeks rich in lessons and experiences, only to be surpassed by the 4 to follow as interns.

I’ve been meaning to write this blogpost since the moment I set foot in Indonesia. Regrettably it’s been rather difficult to find spare time in my two weeks of travelling and the subsequent days exploring Jakarta, learning Bahasa Indonesia and immersing myself in the amazing program that ACICIS JPP has been so far.

Indonesia is a country of unimaginable beauty, of chaos mended with an innate dexterity, of vivid humanity and slow traffic, of polusi and delighting smells and of flaunty wealth foregrounded with extreme poverty. Whatever your expectations of Indonesia are, they will die out in a matter of days, this is a land of surprises and they all hit hard.

Here’s a quick recount of my whereabouts for the past 4 weeks.

2 weeks on the move

We entered Indonesia from its most cliched island: Bali. Having spent more than 2 weeks in the heart of Denpasar back in 2008, there wasn’t much left for me to wander. The 2 days in the island were enough for a second taste of its breathtaking sunsets, hindu temples and retirement-Eden feeling.

Medan was our next port of call, after a long day flying across the archipelago and a brief stop in Jakarta we reached Northern Sumatra’s capital city at midnight. The next day we picked up a rental car and headed south for a 3 day excursion to Lake Toba. After surviving the treacherous roads and a quick visit to Gunung Sibayak (the active volcano in the vicinity) we arrived at the village of Berastagi, a crossroads on the route to the lake.

The following morning meant negotiating once again the perils of Indonesian roads, an effort that paid off as soon as we descried the majestic lake from the road to Samosir Island, a peninsula the size of Singapore that sits in the middle of the 100km-long lake and crater. Lake Toba occupies the site of the largest supervolcanic eruption anywhere on earth, taking place 69,000 to 77,000 years ago and believed to have killed most humans then alive. The lake has left behind days swarmed by tourists to resemble the secret tranquil paradise the Batak ethnic group populated for centuries.

The next day we took the ferry to Parapat and drove back to Medan through the famously congested Trans-Sumatran Highway before flying to Java the next morning. After yet another sprint of painful Lion Air flights, we landed in Solo (or Surakarta) in time for lunch.

Once a sultanate of the Mataram kingdom, Solo is at present a quiet liveable town famous for its Batik tradition and its two royal palaces: the Kraton Kasunanan and the Puro Mangkunegaran. That night we were also joined by two friends and together we improvised a Christmas dinner with local specialities at a food night market.

The next morning we took the train to Yogyakarta, the last leg of our journey. Yogya is a bit of a special place, it’s Java’s cultural cradle. It’s streets are dotted with everything from Dutch colonial remnants to the most unsuspected shops, markets and eateries. Slow paced congestion, rickshaws, the enormous Kraton, timeless Kota Gede… it’s hard not to fall for it. That probably explains why is one of Indonesia’s top destinations along with Bali. It even counts with a big number of professional shanghai-ers making a life out of disoriented tourists in the Kraton.

Yogya is also a convenient town to visit Borobudur and Prambanan, two of Southeast Asia’s oldest temples. The first, a buddhist construction built on the 9th century is probably Java’s most visited landmark if not Indonesia’s. Even at the brink of dawn crowds are already waiting to set foot inside the wooded precinct where the temple is located.

Once inside it’s easy to get distracted by groups of curious Indonesian teenagers. Some are even sent to Borobudur on assignment: to interview and record foreigners and submit the recording to their English teachers. Prambanan has also realised the potential of the tourist masses and the surroundings of the temple are filled with cheap tourist traps. None of these things interfere with the mystic beauty of the temples, but don’t expect quiet spiritual retreats here.

After another day cruising the lanes of Yogya, we finally took a train cross the vibrant green rice paddies to end our trip in Jakarta.

A sped-up journey to start grasping what Indonesia is all about. What I grasped was disconcerting, Indonesia’s complexity is beyond a visitor’s understanding. This trip may have touched distant points across two of Indonesia’s biggest islands, ethnicities and religions. But the images I took with me are just a few insignificant pieces of a 17,000-island jigsaw.

PS:  There will be a few new blogposts on Indonesia coming up soon: adapting to Jakarta, my experience as an intern, the state of media in Indonesia… but I still need to get my head around a few of those. Lihat nanti!

3 years, 2 months and 15 days.

The timespan between two flights: a tiresome one touching down in Sydney Airport ending the Kangaroo Route and the another heading for the Java Sea in just a few hours.

Three years can be hard to condensate, let alone recount. They represent a complex blend of faces, moments, experiences and lessons. Some good. Some bad. Some necessary.

I came to Australia days after graduating from high school, leaving behind what I called home for 18 years: friends, my mother tongue, parental warmth and restless curiosity for the world beyond it. What a decision that was, one of the best I will ever make.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Australia was then an exotic escape from the ordinary; a laid-back refuge for 6 months of English lessons and, if luck allowed, the perfect place to harvest a few amusing stories involving Aussie sheilas and booze. I was very young.

Luck allowed for more than that. In a couple of months I began to realise that Australia was, above anything else, a land of opportunity. People from all walks of life and corners of the world getting together. An imperfectionist young nation always in the making.

I felt I needed to become part of that and so I did. My parents, faithful sponsors of this big adventure, agreed to support me. A decision I will eternally be bitterly thankful for. I was to spend the next 3 years doing my Bachelor’s degree here.

From there Australia shaped my career goals, my life aspirations and myself. I am no longer a foreigner here. Australia is now a part of myself.

Personally, I also feel part of Australia. Every new friend has made it even more welcoming. And I’ve made a lot of friends. Mates, girlfriends, classmates, flatmates, neighbours… hundreds of faces that will forevermore personify the golden memories I will so much nostalgically yearn.

To my parents, to all of you and to Australia… thank you for these three wonderful years.

I promise I’ll be back. Keep me a spot.

Edu.

“At times voting is just like funerals” – El Roto

Unhappy nation votes for change in the hope its woes will end. A very familiar tale lately incarnated by debt-soaked countries where technocratic governments and opposition leaders have raised to power in the midst of asphyxiating pressure.

Unsurprisingly, Monday’s headlines made Spain the protagonist of this politically bewitching tale, following the conservative PP party’s overwhelming victory. Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba was severely punished for Zapatero’s economic legacy giving Mariano Rajoy a parliamentary supermajority like no other candidate has ever won.

But there is more to this story.

D’Hondt’s betrayal 

There is nothing like a strong government with great parliamentary representation. It is in fact the best way to govern; new legislation and proposals are smoothly passed without much room for obstaculating debate. Mariano Rajoy’s landslide victory has given him an even wider supermajority than Aznar’s after the 2000 election. His voters can rest assured that many electora promises will consistently become tangible policies.

And so, you might get the impression that his voters are a supermajority themselves… but that is blatantly wrong: they are not.

In fact, if voters and parliamentary seats were proportionally equal, the PP would own 44% of the seats in parliament instead of 53%. The key to the supermajority cannot be found in their own merits, but in D’Hondt’s magical top hat.

- Here is a comparison between parliamentary representation and votes - 

D’Hondt’s method (explained below) is designed to provide simple majoritarianism, favouring large parties and coalitions over smaller parties. This method worked fairly well helping Spain to solidly take its first steps as a democracy during the late 70s.

The BBC’s Jeremy Vine explains D’Hondt’s Method in the eve of the European Elections

But in modern bipartisan Spain, D’Hondt’s Method is nothing but an obstacle to political plurality and ultimately progress as a whole. Voter turnout fell by 2.61% and while voters punished the socialists, who saw their worst result since 1977, many did not switched their vote to PP either, which even lost votes in strongholds like Madrid and only gained 500k new votes since the 2008 election. Or put it this way: while PSOE lost 15% of its voters, the PP only gained 4%.

The clear winner of the election may still be Mariano Rajoy, but with 10% of voters giving their support to smaller parties, the real change did not come with waving blue flags. Minor parties like centrist UPyD or left-wing IU have almost tripled and doubled their support respectively, while newborn parties led by Basque-separatist Amaiur have also gained considerable support.

And yet none of this matters to D’Hondt and his two biggest fans: PP and PSOE. Or should I say PPSOE?

PP, PSOE and PPSOE

Bipartisan democracies come with two big drawbacks: a monopoly of power and power to monopolise their perpetuity. This was one of the driving reasons for the Spanish ‘indignados’ protests back in March, the impotence of smaller parties in a system designed to overbenefit the big two.

Voters not only lack a say in determining the party candidates, but these remain unknown until the election is over. As a consequence, neither party elects the most capable rulers; rather, it chooses to favour old dogs in the thirst for power and with no responsibility to society or knowledge to assist them. The system chooses to reward those in the line of ‘party succession’ instead of the most prepared to take on the challenge. Which is why some of Zapatero’s ministers lacked tertiary education and previous professional life.

Their political discourse has abandoned ideas, policies and convictions to become a message predicating an eerie apocalyptical future without them in government.

This has turned PP and PSOE into what so many have labelled PPSOE. Two parties concerned with appealing to the indecisive masses with cheap populism, demagogy and above all their binomial squabbles. I know. This is common to most bipartisan democracies. But Spaniards consider its ruling class the third biggest problem of the nation.

So why are their ballots in everyone’s hands? I hear you ask. Keep reading.

A ghost called Tactical Voting

“Why would I give my vote to a loser?”

Horse racing or football betting have probably more in common with Spanish elections than informed votes; there are many factors to blame for this,

First, political campaigning is at Orwellian levels in Spain. Every four years streets and billboards are decorated with rejuvenated images of the candidates, PA system-equipped cars flock to main cities carrying loud slogans, local politicians take the streets armed with flyers and the media begins its ritual bicephalous coverage. This is particularly alarming on RTVE (Spain’s national broadcaster), where free campaign segments are awarded to each party in complete disproportion. For example, PP and PSOE were assigned 45 minutes on air while other parties were left with 15 or 10.

Second, “Better the evil you know than the goodness you don’t”. Spaniards may be eager for change, but change is not allowed to trespass the boundaries of the politically known. Factions beyond PP and PSOE are repetitively  labelled too conservative/fascist and too leftist/radical. Jeopardies to a welfare state that is ironically failing to protect its own citizens.

Thirdly, d’Hondt’s intimidating shadow. Defying d’Hondt takes courage. It’s acknowledging a second class citizenship where your political support represents a fraction of any PPSOE voter. True disbelievers of d’Hondt will accept this, but most citizens would rather see their votes having a tangible effect.

What goes next

Well, we took the squares. Twice before elections. It even became a global movement. And that highlighted much of the above.

Some people voted accordingly, some didn’t vote… accordingly too. These demands should not call for the creation of new parties, they should call to boicot existing ones. Campaigns like #nolesvotes (‘don’t vote them‘) should gain further presence in the media using a combination of PR and advertising campaigns. It would be too optimistic to expect immediate reforms, but this is our best chance to lay the foundation stones of a new and strengthen relationship between us and our rulers.

We must inform and make Spaniards aware of the imperfections that weaken our system. It is not about sided ideals, they are simply about invigorating democracy, giving equal voice to all citizens and stopping supermajorities that jeopardise rights and rule authoritatively.

For a more detailed account on d’Hondt’s effect in the 2011 General Elections you can read citizen journalist Pau Llop Franch’s report (in Spanish).

- Quino