After sitting on the cold, tiled floor a few hours, I tossed my plate covered in bits of kimchi and rice into the garbage and slipped on my shoes. As everyone gathered their bags and jackets, a mixture of “annyoung”s, “good-bye”s, and bows are exchanged among one another. Although I learned a lot by observing and talking to this small group of international students from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (UNC), it was not until my walk with one student Terry Bu, 23, that I truly understood the significance of what I had just experienced.
“When I came here seven years ago, I felt isolated and disconnected from everyone around me,” Terry explained.
He, like many other international students, came to America knowing little English and having only his family. While his father worked in South Korea to support the family, Terry moved to New Jersey with his mother to attend high school in hopes of a better education- a common practice in Asian immigrant culture.
“I was stuck in a place where I couldn’t understand most people and the only person I had was my mom.” Terry went on to say, “While I struggled in school, the only person I could turn to for help was my mom, who was struggling herself to become acquainted with the new area and customs.”
Making the transition from a society so different from your home is a hard, lonely process experienced by thousands of people every year. However, how can thousands of people experience the same loneliness? Do they not have each other?
As I’ve learned from UNC international students over the past year, they do. Most colleges are homes that foster diversity and acceptance. When you have lived believing you were the only one of your kind and feeling so alone, coming to college can open up a door to people both similar and completely different to you. In this place, you can connect with these people and finally push away that shard of isolation.
For each group and person, college helps develop these connections in a different manner. For some, it is through organizations and clubs and for others it is through various events and activities. However, what I found most interesting was none of those, but rather, the connections facilitated by food.
“I miss my eomma’s (mother) cooking,” Liz Choe, 21, lamented.
Not only are these students away from their home countries, they are also away from the only connection they had to it as well. As the disconnect between themselves and their culture grows, the yearning for it and the feeling of belongingness grows stronger, bringing them to the question, “How do I get in touch with my roots?” The answer to this question: food.
It is undeniable that food is an extremely large part of culture. You grow up with it. You see it every day. You pass it down to your children. Rinse and repeat. Food is a constant in culture that is shared with family and friends and easily transferred from one place to another. It is no wonder why it draws together international students and is used to hold that cultural connection and sense of community. So, I think back to how it does that…
“Annyounghaseyo?” called a voice from behind the door of Ram Village 5113 shortly after I knocked.
“Uh, hello?” I answered back. I could hear a shuffling of stuff and make out a few words of Korean exchanged among some people.
The door opens up and Sehoun, 20, greeted me, “Oh! Hey Nick! Come in!” I walked in and slipped my shoes off. Even though they had just started preparing this meal, the smell of past meals hit me immediately. At first the smell of fermented cabbage is overwhelming, but then the subtle scents of various spices and chicken break through. Although I went early expecting to be the first there so I could be there for the whole experience, a few people had already gotten there and were conversing among themselves.
After some quick introductions, Sehoun told me to just relax while they started dinner. As I sat on the couch watching them cut carrots and cabbage up, I started realizing a flawed assumption I had made. My original thought of how food brought together people was simply by eating at the same table with one another sharing the same food. However, what I was observing was turning out to be much more than that.
A Korean conversation was taking place over the vegetables, a game of “Frying Pan” was happening while making the soup, and a few lounged on the couch while watching TV. I immediately sat up and started taking pictures; this was how food brought these people together. As more and more people joined, small groups began to intermix as everyone started sharing the responsibility of cooking. Soon the smells of this meal started to overtake the room, many unidentifiable to me because of the foreign ingredients: something spicy, something salty, something weird, and maybe beef? Soon enough, the plates and utensils were set out.
“Baum mahkja!(Let’s eat!)” shouted Sehoun, which caused everyone to hurriedly surround the food placed out on the newspaper covering the floor. A quick prayer was said, and then we were allowed to delve into the food. While we ate, I had my camera carefully by my side ready to start taking pictures. However, nothing much was going on. A part from the occasional “Can you place the…” and small conversation, not much was said nor was it that fun. We simply sat there, watched TV, and enjoyed the delicious food.
However, as everyone started to finish up, the conversations started up again and dessert was brought out. After waiting several minutes for them to figure out how to cut it into an uneven thirteen pieces, they passed out the plates and three people each shared a plate of delicious, homemade tiramisu. Although there were a few moments of silence at the beginning while the cold tiramisu melted away in our mouths, the conversations quickly started up again and I asked a few questions about dinner parties.
“I like to do this cause I get eat good food, not because I want to hang out with these boring old Korean,” said Won Lee, 19, sarcastically. “I’m only come cause Sehoun is such awesome cook.”
Liz retorted with a simple “Pabo (idiot).”
Despite Won’s remark, the generally sentiment was that, as Liz later put it, “The food is what draws us here, but the people keep us here.” Despite everyone’s busy schedules they find the time to come together and share these dinners with one another several times a month, reminding themselves of their homes and the families many are so far away from. Even for the few like Liz who have lived in America most of all of their lives, the dinner parties still remind them of their families and home country and make them feel like they are not alone.
As I ran out of questions and the evening grew late, I prepared myself and started to gather my stuff together. However, they still had one more surprise left in store. Suddenly, Terry pulled a board game called Catan, from his room and explained the rules to everyone. While we played the game, they explained to me that it is tradition for them to play some board game after they eat.
So finally I just ask, “So why is the food so important to you? You didn’t even talk while you were eating.”
They sat quickly for a little bit and thought. Finally, Jonathan Hall, a 19 year old half-Korean, answered “Nawh dude. The food’s not important. I didn’t sit here on the floor for the past five hours because of the food. I sat here to chill with my friends… and eat really good food.”
After the game finished, I picked up my trash and started to think. The food may be at the center of it all, but it’s the people and time spent around it that’s the most important. The food may be from their home country, but it is the people that really make them feel at home. And the food may be delicious, but it is the friendship that is the sweetest thing. So how does international food facilitate connections on the UNC campus? Well, by simply bringing the people together with a purpose and letting them do the rest.
After saying thank you to everyone for allowing me to join them, I headed to the door and slipped my shoes back on. I turned around, did a small bow, and said “Annyoung” to my new friends.
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