The icy breeze playing on Minjun’s face burns as he gazes at the glistening snow covered slopes of the Rockies, spellbound. Awestruck as he is by the majesty of the wilderness around him, he notices neither the pain of the wind on his face nor that of the rented ski boots pinching his toes.
He stands wrapped in the new thermal wear his grandfather gave him at Chessa, the traditional Confucian gathering when family members meet to pray together. His grandfather used the occasion to speak to him. Minjun knelt and bowed so deep that his forehead touched the carpet at the feet of his elder in the crowded tiny room of the patriarch’s house. “This will be an important voyage,” the old man counseled the youth. “This is the first step in your manhood.” Minjun’s chest filled with pride, as he rose to his feet to face his grandfather, though he tried to appear correctly modest. He was being bestowed one of the privileges of the son. Being male and the eldest of his siblings, he had learned to expect such treatment. His eldest uncle, together with his grandfather, had paid the initial tuition fees to cover a few weeks of the international high school English immersion program in Calgary. His mother had long since resorted to paid work as a part-time department store clerk and his sister had begun a part-time job in a grocery store to help pay for his education and related travel. His father had been working longer hours and taking more business trips away from their hometown of Daejeon to Seoul and Daegu in order to do his family proud and contribute to its wealth and status. He provided the airfare, to the honour of his family’s good name. Minjun could excuse his father’s absences because of that.
“The family has sacrificed much for your sake,” recalled his grandfather.
“Thank you Grandfather, Uncle, Father, Mother and Sister,” replied Minjun dutifully with a waist deep bow.
“You are not going on a holiday. Travel is an education. English is necessary and can help us greatly. You are going to study and learn as much as possible. Work hard. Carry the family name high and do nothing to shame us. Do it for the reputation and honour of your family name.”
“Just read this numbers on the phone card, listen, then dial your home number, You can’t go wrong, June,” Mr. McLaren tells him. They have just bought an international phone card and Minjun is about to call his mother for the third time since he arrived to Calgary by plane on the previous afternoon. “Why did they have to put the payphone out here?” the Canadian mutters in complaint. The apparatus rests mounted on the outer wall of the ski lodge at the foot of the main lift. “Here,” he says, proffering the handset to Minjun. “There are three hours of phoning on the card, so talk all you want. I’ll make another run and come back.” Mr. McLaren turns and walks toward the lift, skis crooked in his left arm.
Minjun does not understand everything his Canadian guardian tells him, but he catches the drift. He had managed to tell Mr. McLaren that he should telephone his mother at 4:00 p.m. in order to reach his mother at a reasonable waking hour in South Korea. “Ma! Hi, Ma! Oh yeah, it’s awesome….Yeah, yeah, I’m well fed. Yes, they’re very nice. …I slept well, Ma. I have a good room in the basement….No, it’s nice and cosy, not cold….We’re skiing today, Ma! We’re in the Rockies….Yeah, it’s cold but it’s amazing! …We’re staying in a ‘condo’—they always come here every year. They rent it for awhile or something.” Minjun remembers hearing the word “time-share.” There are so many new words to figure out. “I’m sharing a room with Collin, that’s the boy in the family….Yeah, he’s okay. …I think I’ll sleep well. I get a bed….Don’t worry, Ma, I won’t fall off it….No, school doesn’t start yet. After New Year’s, you know, January 1st. But the international term begins in February. Yeah, I’m studying English already.” It’s a white lie intended to ease his mother’s mind.
How could he have had time to start studying when he arrived yesterday, went straight from the airport to the house in Calgary and his new room so that he could begin unpacking before eating and resting? The twosome had risen with the dawn this morning and hurried in the “SUV” to join the others here at Banff Village.
He thinks back to the drive here. He was used to snow. But the sight of those tall mountains rising before them like a menacing wave of frozen purplish and white rock had been incredible. Noticing his gaping mouth, Mr. McLaren had pulled the truck over so that Minjun could take a couple of quick photos with his “handphone.” Then they took the highway through the pass and as they rolled up to the small alpine town, some kind of beasts stood before them on the road. Hearing Minjun gasp, Mr. McLaren informed him that they were “elks” and not to mind them. “They won’t bother you at this time of year. Just, never feed them. That’s why they come around. People feed them. Just keep a safe distance and never mind them. Hey, why don’t you take a picture of them now?”
“That will blow them away,” was the excited response. Minjun took photos through the passenger window of the utility vehicle. Even though he could not make phone calls in this country with his cell phone, it was useful for taking pictures as well as playing and downloading photos and music. His father and mother plan to visit him at Lunar New Year when, they promised, they would give him a digital camera. He did not bring a laptop because his family thought it would be wasteful in view of the availability of computers in the house and at the school.
Minjun felt fortunate that his parents allowed him to come to Canada during this Canadian holiday season. Christmas was not the big deal in South Korea that it was here. Christmas in Canada was like Lunar New Years and Chuseok together! True, he is not experiencing quite the traditional Christmas. He does not mind that, however. After settling the arrangement with the Calgary school board homestay administration, the McLarens thought that it would be a shame for the boy to miss Christmas and a ski holiday. The family’s trip had already been arranged and there was enough space for an extra visitor. As long as the family could cover half the ski lift and rentals costs, they would make the remainder of the skiing expenses a gift to “June.” There was the homestay fee, prepaid by the Korean family and, with a subsidy from the public school system, Minjun’s expenses would be paid to the Canadian family in due course. That was the money to pay for the visitor’s basic expenses like food and transportation.
“How could we deprive the boy of this experience?” Minjun’s mother had asked. “Christmas is a Canadian cultural experience that should be learned,” agreed his father with a wink. “Do you want to go early and spend Christmas holiday with them?” Looking at the young hopeful face in front of him, he could not help it, despite the extra airfare that a holiday season trip would require. Minjun’s father was a little sad inside, still, for he already missed seeing the boy when he took trips out of town. Ironically, now the boy would be away from home for the winter holiday but his voyage would do the family much good in the eyes of the relatives and others.
“Oh, yeah, Pa!” was the emphatic reply. Why not? School exams were over and so therefore was the school year. A new one would begin in Korea in March. He had loads of time. Just think what an impression that would make! It was nearly every kid’s dream to see Canada, especially the legendary Rockies.
The parents removed Minjun from their own winter holiday plans. One less person on the trip to Jeju Island in the far south of Korea where the climate was a good deal warmer in the winter, and the reduction of his airfare and hotel costs made up for the additional burden of the skiing expenses in the cold terrain of Canada.
Minjun takes off one mitten so as to unzip his jacket and fumble for the inside pocket where
his trusted “handphone” is. He steps away from the lodge to swivel around and take photos of the ski area.
Mr. McLaren and the whole party approach him. “Let’s take a break guys,” he suggests. He leads them into the cafeteria inside the lodge. Better to let the boy rest. After such a long trip and all the excitement of the voyage, together with a whole day of skiing, he might already be getting exhausted but not want to say it. He thought back to the orientation before Christmas when they explained things like “saving face.” Homestay parents had to anticipate problems and not expect the newcomer to say that he was experiencing a problem. He might be proud and shy. As they sit down at a large table and remove their outer wear, he asks Minjun a question. “Say, June. Have you been exercizing much?” Seeing the boy’s puzzled expression, he rephrases it. It was complexity of the past perfect tense, probably. “Do you go to the gym or play sports a lot?”
“Oh, yeah,” replied Minjun. “Don’t worry. I work out. I play basket with my friends too. I’m fit.”
“Good. How are you feeling?”
“Fine!”
“He means, how are your muscles?” inserts Collin, squeezing his own biceps to illustrate the meaning of “muscles.” “Do they hurt? Are you getting tired?”
“Oh, a little tired. But I feel great.” Everyone laughs at the boy’s exuberance.
“Basket? You mean basketball, I suppose?” asks the cousin, whose name Minjun can’t remember. It’s the funny name.
“Yeah. Basketball. I love it. Do you play basketball?”
“Naw. Not tall enough. But I can run. I play a little soccer and a little hockey.
“We’ll take you to a hockey game,” advises Collin with a glance at his dad for confirmation, who nods an okay. “A pro game. The Calgary team is called the Flames. And, if you want, you can play with me and my friends. It’s just for fun sometimes. Do you skate?”
“Wow! No, not really. I only tried skating two times before.”
“Well, maybe you can practice. I think there’s a rec class at the school. I’ve seen the international students do stuff in it. Maybe they go skating too.”
“All right! That sounds cool! I want to try hockey.”
“Do Koreans like basketball a lot?” asks the cousin.
“Yeah! They do.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get to play, or at least shoot baskets at school.”
The order of hotdogs and cola is brought to the tables. They eat eagerly. Mr. McLaren realizes that, to Koreans, it is rude to talk during the meal. So the pressure to keep up a conversation is suspended for the moment. However, Collin asks brightly, “Hey, June. Is it okay to talk while we eat our hotdogs?”
“Ah, sure! I must learn Canadian culture. Do what you usually do.”
“Great!” exclaims Collin, smiling widely at his father.
It is already getting dark. But there will be night skiing on two slopes, specially set up for the busy Christmas season. Soon, the McLaren men consult each other as to the evening’s agenda. How to spend the evenings here? The boys could rest a bit longer, maybe go into the arcade briefly before returning to the hill. They send the kids to the game room.
They could retreat to the condo around 7:00 for a homemade supper of steaks and a DVD. Their sons had picket up an action flick. They rationalized that an action movie would be easier for June to understand, and they had heard that Korean youth were into action movies. The fathers were critical of action movies these days—they are full of extreme violence and ultra-macho fantasy. But teens are not very content with dramas, except for contemporary police stories and suspense thrillers, which are often just as bad. At least the action hero movies clearly depict comic strip and computer game caricatures, emphatically demarcating the boundary between reality and imagination. Characters accomplish impossible feats sustaining blow after blow with hardly a scratch. Victims die immediately and are discarded on the street without a thought. How can kids even appreciate drama in a story when they are submerged in this stuff? Where are the stories about average people these days, wondered the men? What about the human experience? Working class people have become the underclass in the underworld, a warrior class—even the women now. Films feature anti-heroes who cross formerly well established ethical and moral lines, it seems. People are portrayed as cold machines. What is the parents’ defense against this glacial tide? The brothers have discussed this theme many times before and they discuss it again once the boys have left the table. Even the Lord of the Rings trilogy was questionable. There were not enough Harry Potter and Narnia type stories, though they were grateful for what had been created so far. TV was just as pathetic, with those crime scene investigation horror stories and such, not to mention the video and computer games. The men usually left it up to their wives to attend Parent Advisory Committee meetings, but perhaps they should go sometime and give this topic another swing.
“Ain’t we all warriors still?” comments Glen’s brother. It is true. That is the life of lawyers and business managers today. At least sport and professional training equip men with the proper civilized rules of war and discourage vigilante justice and guerrilla tactics. But it is getting hard to hang onto the rule of law even.
In fact, one of Glen’s neighbours, an archaeologist, had talked about the warrior character in mythology at a barbecue earlier this year. Jim is a Sto:lo doctoral student researching his own people in the Upper Fraser Valley. “Myth is myth,” he had said. “See Dad, you don’t have to worry so much,” Collin had replied. “But,” continued Jim, “The modern media is another thing. It’s a manifestation of specific voices and power intent on making and keeping power. It has many tentacles that reach deep into our lives. However, that said, there is always big drama, death, destruction and heartbreak in the big myths. Like, look at the creation stories. They all have similar features. Anyway, myths express monumental problems, fear and warnings as they do solutions, strength and remedies. Maybe the contemporary macho male figure, like the Van Diesels, et cetera, signify the human subject mustering power against the dark forces of the era that present modern complexities and dilemmas. He looks for a way out of the mire, desires to be good. He needs partners and allies. The warrior woman is an ally, usually of higher goodness though, like him, caught up in modern problematic situations. She is loyalty and compassion. There is hope. There are examples of imperfect men and women who muddle their way through, find the strength and use the latest knowledge to try to stay between the lines on the road even when crossing them is part of the tactics to stay in them. There is inspiration in the desire and strength to oppose evil and right wrongs.”
For their part, Lucy and Glen have developed their own code for raising the children. They chose an indirect approach to teaching it, avoiding direct criticism, lectures and prohibition. Though they plan to allow peer parties and overnight visits with boy and girlfriends in the future, they do not consider their style of parenting as “permissive,” as some Christian neighbours might accuse. Lucy and Glen had witnessed the “No, no you don’t!” approach seem to backfire completely. Instead, they prefer to engage in suppertime family discussions, set examples by their own conduct, and arrange plenty of family activities such as excursions into the countryside. They thus intend to expose their children their children to other points of view. It was on this basis that the pair agreed to register in the homestay parents program. It would be interesting and healthy for the children. When you cannot always afford to travel to new places, there were ways to invite new places into the house. Furthermore, thought Glen at the time, it might add sparkle to their lives.
“Hey, June’s an ace at those games!” exclaims one of the cousins as they return to the table.
“Yeah, he sure is!” echoes another.
“I get lots of practice,” explains June modestly. “Can we ski some more?”
“Sure, son,” replies the uncle before he can stop the slip of tongue and the word “son.” “Let’s go for another hour or so then head back for some grub at the cabin.”
June does not know what ‘grub’ is, but he is happy to ski again that day. It is a great thrill to mount the swinging lift chair with his new friend and rise up above the brightly lit whiteness below to the top of the run. He does not even feel the cold. He will be writing and talking about this amazing day, including the cabin barbecue with steaks, for a long time to come.
After they shower and change, the process of preparing the meal begins. June looks around and finds no women. “Here, June, maybe you can chop up some veggies for a salad?” He knows well what salads look like, but he has never seen women prepare food before in a kitchen. True, the men in Korea sometimes take care of the outdoor summer fire or the sauna fire, and sometimes they give a hand in smoking the fish with select charcoal and wood for special flavour. This is a meal with barbecued steaks, though. Mr. McLaren and his brother set up the portable barbecue on the patio while the cousins work in the kitchen.
“What do you want, June, pasta with cheese sauce or boiled potatoes?” inquires Collin, after turning on a stereo and inserting a rock and roll CD. Minjun is confused about the word “boiled” but he is familiar with both pasta and potatoes. He prefers pasta. “Good,” says Collin picking up waving a packet. “There’s an instant sauce but we’ll freshen it up with some milk and grated cheese. It’ll be fine.”
“Sounds good,” answers Minjun. He feels more comfortable in this strange household having a task to do.
Collin takes an assortment of vegetables out of the bags stored in the refridgerator and places portions in the colander for rinsing. Minjun is happy about that. At home everyone keeps very clean and food is washed thoroughly. He places the washed vegetables on a clean towel on the counter located in the center of the kitchen floor. Pulling up a high stool for his friend, he puts Minjun to work. “Just cut it the way you like. I’m sure you’ve had salad before. I’ll bring out the bottle of salad dressing later.”
“Oh, yes. No problem. I can take care of it.”
After this casual meal at the dining table adjacent to the open kitchen, everyone clears away and rinses his own dishes. The dishes are loaded into the dishwater but the machine stays idle so that the DVD can be viewed in peace. It is a loud action movie called, Fast and Furious. Minjun has heard of it. They get many Hollywood movies in Korea, he assures his Canadian housemates. No, they get new releases sometimes even before they are seen in America. Koreans love action movies, horror films and romances, he tells them.
“Do the men drink beer over there?” asks Mr. McLaren as he rises to get bottles of beer for both the adults.
“Oh, yeah! The drink a lot. They drink beer and soju. Soju is Korean.” It is nice how these “weigooks” want to know about life in Korea.
In the night, he lies awake in the single bed next to that where the Canadian boy sleeps soundly. He listens to the steady breathing and the occasional sniffle or snort. He shivers. His hosts are nice and thoughtful, though not bothersome. However, the day has been replete with strange experiences. It is all a cloudy blur now, this day, and he does not know how it is different from home yet. He cannot relax entirely because of the foreign circumstances. How he is supposed to feel? It is odd, being without the familiarity. To think of it, out of the glare of the today’s beauty and excitement, he is tentative, not quite sure what is and what is happening around him here.
Now he feels the distance from his homeland. He wishes he could be in his parents’ living room, watching TV, even if his sister were around.
“I must try. I must be strong. It is best for the family,” Minjun tells himself, remembering to put his duty before all his feelings and desires. He must not show his weakness and uncertainty in the presence of people.
“Anyway, it won’t be long before I return home. What are a few weeks or months?” Time walks slower across this big land, he believes. There is time to see the spaces between the moments. It is a little scary, this time to see what’s inside the head.
He does not know where to find another blanket but he does not want to wake anyone just to get one. Least of all does he wish to let them know that he is cold if they are not. He does not want them to think he is a fussy baby. So he curls up to keep warm. Shortly, he rises to go fumble for a sweat suit in the duffle bag he knows he left on the chair in the corner of the room. It is dark enough that he stumbles a little on the carpet then bumps into the arm of the upholstered chair. He gropes and feels the flannel of the track pants. The contents of his suitcase will lie in a tangled mess until morning as a result. He pulls on the warm athletic wear over his cotton blend pyjamas and gets back under the quilt.
That is better. He relaxes a bit. His mind finds zones of comfort and reflects on the things back home that give him joy. His soul warmed, he eases his muscles into the softness of the bedding and soon settles into a deep slumber.
In his dream, he is nervous at the top of the hill. Legs shaky, he points the tips of the skis down it. With resolution, he gives the poles a decided push make the descent. Wobbly he is at first, but he hears the mountain speak in its heavenly voice to guide him. He releases his body to the mountain and it takes him down the slippery path in graceful slaloms. He reaches the bottom of the hill standing. With confidences, he faces the next uphill climb.