xenophobe

There's a bar near my house that I like to go to sometimes. I like it because unlike pretty much every other bar in this country, this place doesn't blast shitty Korean pop songs so loud you can't hear yourself think. It's just a bunch of tables and some TVs. On Saturdays EPL soccer games are on, so sometimes I go to watch games there.


It also has a great selection of beer. One wall of the place is lined with refrigerators. Inside are bottles of beers from at least 15 to 20 countries. The beers all cost about $4, so you really can't go wrong with this place.

The owner, and only person who works there, is a guy I already knew before I moved to this part of town. He was actually the owner of my favorite bar in the area I lived in during my first year in Daejeon. It just so happens that since then he has switched locations, to where I live now. It's actually quite a remarkable coincidence. His son was even a student of mine my first year here.

I went to this place with Mihyun on Saturday. A friend of mine's cover band was having a show in about two hours, so we had some time to kill before making our way over there. We walked in and the owner was happy to see us and he chatted with Mihyun for a little while.

There were a few other people in the bar. At the table to our left was a group of 6 or 8 younger Korean guys who had clearly just finished playing basketball. Pretty quickly I noticed to my right, two tables over, a Korean gentleman of about 55 was staring absolute daggers at me. He wasn't tall, but he was almost tall, and had a long droopy face; if I were casting a Korean version of A Christmas Carol, I'd certainly consider him for Ebenezer. He was at a table with one other guy and about 11 empty beer bottles. I glanced back at him a few times, each time he's still staring right at me. Eventually I got tired of this and stared back at him. After about 15 seconds he finally looked away.

Mihyun and I settled in, watching a baseball game and drinking beers. Her beer was called Saigon Beer, from Vietnam, mine was Dortmunder Actien Braueriei, from Germany. After an hour or so I was back up at the beer fridges searching out my next victim. I settled on a Scottish beer, because it had a free bottle opener keychain on it. As I headed back to our table the droopy faced Korean was on his way out. He stopped at my table and slurred some words at me. I only caught one word- nara, which means country. I figured he was asking me my country, so I replied- Nan Mi-guk-in ee-ey-yo, which means I'm American. The man took a few more steps, turned to Mihyun and unleashed a 3 second tirade. The bartender quickly ran up, grabbed him, and tossed him out of the bar. He then turned to Mihyun and apologized, explaining that the man had had a lot to drink.

However, the damage had been done. Mihyun was slowly but steadily tearing up. Seeing her reduced to tears by some drunken dickhead filled me with what I can only assume to be murderous rage. At that moment I wanted that man dead, I genuinely did. I didn't know what to do. I made my way for the door, to I dunno, run the guy down and curbstomp him or something, but the bartender intervened and insisted I sit down.

I asked Mihyun what the hell he said but she refused to tell me. In time she told me that he basically called her a slut and a prostitute, simply because she was with a foreigner. It pissed me off and made me sad at the same time. After a few minutes things had calmed down and Mihyun was composed. I made her laugh a few times and we talked a bit about the situation. I think Mihyun summed up our feelings best when she said that she's always known that people who think like that man are out there, but it was the first time the scum was literally in our faces.

It makes me wonder how that man's anger was born. What motivated him to say what he said? Imagine seeing a mixed race couple, two people who you don't know and whose relationship has zero effect on your life, yet being angry enough about it to fire off a hate-filled salvo on your way out the door. Did he feel good about himself, even the next morning after he'd sobered up? Did he feel even a trace of regret, or did he think of himself as making his ancestors proud?

What can we do when faced with such mindless hate? It's said that living well is the best revenge, but it certainly isn't the most satisfying. Even now, two days later, thinking about it makes my heart race a bit. I just tell myself to calm down though. That man's hate will do much more damage to him than it will to me.