Infusion Staff 2015-2016
Hello! We are pleased to announce the Infusion editorial staff, 2015-2016. We had our first, successful meeting in Seoul on Sunday, November 15th, and are all excited to start work on Infusion‘s next volume this winter. Editor-in-Chief Dawn Angelicca Barcelona Managing Editors Arria Washington Jonathan Balmer Monitors Breanna Helland Erin Deskin Staff Editors Abhik Pramanik Anna Faison Bekah Morton Breanna Durham Janine Perri Kristen O’Brien Monica Heilman Nikki Brueggeman Stephen Speers Design Editor Matt Walters Assistant Design Editor Hannah Shannon Photo Editor Tiffany Chu Web Manager Morgan Kinsinger Social Media Coordinator Jessica Hall
CITY GUIDE REVIEW: BRICKS COFFEE (BUSAN)
Photos and review by Monica Heilman, ETA ’14-’16 City: Busan (부산) Restaurant name: Bricks Coffee Food Served: coffee, tea, juice, sandwiches View Map Prices: Around average, but there is also a great Americano and toasted sandwich set for only 6,000 won. Directions: Take exit 2 from Seomyeon station. Walk straight, turn left at Tom and Tom’s café, at the first street, then take the left fork. Continue further down this street, and take the right fork, just past 69 Slam (an underwear shop) on the right corner is Bricks Coffee. One of my favorite coffee shops in Busan, the atmosphere at Bricks is cozy and light. If you’re getting tired of huge chain coffee shops, this is the place for you. The owner is friendly and she speaks English fluently. Upon entrance, the cafe looks tiny, but head upstairs and there is a variety of seating, complete with comfy chairs and a selection of books. The last time I was there, I noticed two big stacks of National Geographic and a couple of English books tossed into the mix. Huge windows provide plenty of natural light, and the opportunity for interesting people watching, as there are many small shopping streets nearby.
Web Feature: A Return to Normalcy
Written by Lea Crowley, ETA 2014-’15 As I began planning for my return to the United States, the phrase “A Return to Normalcy” kept coming to mind. This phrase was Warren G. Harding’s 1920 campaign promise; he was offering what nearly every American sought after the instability of World War I. After bringing WWI to an official end, the American people wanted to return to the way things were before the war. Back to normal. However, the definition of “normal” had completely changed after the war. American society had undergone innumerable drastic changes in a short window of time: women as wage earners, a lost generation of men and boys, transformation of technology, fashion, music, and art. Nothing was the same, but Americans desperately wanted to return to “normal.” After living in Korea for nearly a year now, I’m surprised at how well I can relate to that desire for normalcy. I have decided to return to the United States, and I am beginning the process of accepting my decision. Throughout this process, I keep finding myself revisiting the phrase “a return to normalcy” and wondering, “What is normal?” Normal in Korea is nowhere near normal in America, and vice versa. I have spent the past year adjusting to normalcy in Korea, and I finally feel comfortable with Korean norms. It’s normal to walk down crooked cobblestone sidewalks, to bow and be bowed to by my coworkers and students, to buy vegetables from grannies sitting on the curb. It doesn’t faze me that I’m completely surrounded by a foreign language; whether it be blaring from a radio, on a restaurant sign, or spoken aloud, it’s all completely normal. When I return to Chicago, what will normal be? Before I came to Korea, it was completely normal to be constantly prepared for a stranger to attack me in some way, shape or form. It was normal for the public transportation to be dirty, smelly and relatively unreliable. I became hardened to the negative aspects of my city, because I had never known anything else. Now that I’ve lived in Korea, my expectations for public cleanliness and personal safety have been drastically altered. I can walk around outside while looking at my phone without having to worry that someone will snatch it out of my hands and sell it. I don’t have to clench my fists and wear an angry expression to prevent people from trying to attack me whenever I step outside. And it’s really nice. I like this sense of safe normalcy. But in a few months’ time, I will have to get reacquainted with everyday, normal parts of life in Chicago. Don’t get me wrong, though. I do not hate Chicago, nor do I only recall the negative aspects of living there. Although I’m anxious about my capacity to readjust to Chicago’s low standards for normal public behavior, cleanliness and overall safety, I am looking forward to the more positive aspects of normalcy in Chicago. I’m ready and willing to embrace Chicago’s food scene once more – real pizza, tamales, curries, hot dogs, falafel, Chipotle – as well as the weight I’m sure to gain from enjoying it so thoroughly. I am excited to explore the diverse neighborhoods of my city, and rediscover the treasures each has to offer: thrift shops, cultural centers, yoga studios, musical performances, and views of Lake Michigan. Chicago may be rough around the edges, but that’s part of why I love it so much. Korea has become familiar, comfortable, and absolutely normal; how can anything else feel like home after this? Like the Americans who wanted a “return to normalcy” after the chaos of WWI, I am desperately hoping that I can adjust to life in Chicago once more. I am not hoping for things to return to the way they were before I left. I’m afraid that the intense changes Korea has wreaked on the way I think, speak and live, will make it impossible (or at least extremely difficult) for me to feel normal anywhere else. For example, living in Korea has changed the way I perceive social situations and how I decide to interact accordingly within specific social situations. I cannot shake the habit of being subconsciously “polite”; by Korean standards, younger people are expected to show politeness and respect to their elders in very obvious ways. Some of these obvious ways include: bowing to anyone who may look even slightly older than you, pouring drinks for others while eating a meal together, always handing things to people with two hands, and not crossing your legs in public. I feel afraid that these subconscious and completely normal parts of interacting within Korean society will earn me nothing but dirty looks and rolled eyes back in Chicago. In addition to affecting the way I perceive social situations, living in Korea has changed the way I communicate with others. Because I speak broken Korean seemingly more often than I speak fluent English, I have found myself attempting to speak English in a more Korean way. My grammar has become awkward, and I have begun using “aegyo” when speaking English. “Aegyo” is a Korean term used to describe acting intentionally “cute”; female Korean pop stars often use aegyo to win over fans. For example, these women will speak in a higher, more childlike tone of voice, overemphasize their “girlishness” by overdramatically failing at athletic activities, and use lots of cute hand gestures when they speak. In general, women in Korea (foreign or not) are expected to show off their aegyo, especially when addressing their elders. However, I know that my interpretation of “aegyo” would not be seen as cute or normal in Chicago; in fact, I am positive that Chicagoans would find it weird, annoying, frustrating, or some combination of the three. In a way, I’m grateful that I feel so conflicted about moving back to America. Feeling this apprehension about going back to my hometown made me realize just how meaningful my experience