The Korean Wave 2006 - Korean Cultural Service

The New York Times, thursday, december 28, 2006
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A country one-sixth the size of the United States has won nearly
half of the this year’s titles.
In late 2003, Stephenson, an Australian who won three
L.P.G.A. majors, expressed concern that many Asian
players were unwilling to acclimate themselves to the
Tour’s culture, to speak English, to smile for the fans and
schmooze sponsors.
Her views fueled debate -- much of it a one-sided wrath
toward Stephenson, who later apologized. But the controversy
awakened the L.P.G.A., which had seemed to
consider the various nationalities on its Tour to be more
of a happenstance than an issue or an opportunity.
Kyumin Shim, hired by the L.P.G.A. in early 2004, serves
as a sort of liaison between the Tour and its growing
South Korean contingent. A Korean-born 26-year-old,
Shim moved with his family to Florida when he was 13.
That his job title is “player-sponsor relations coordinator”
seems increasingly appropriate; during Wednesday’s proam
event, which was delayed and moved to Hamilton
Farm’s par-3 course because of heavy morning rains,
about one-third of the players partnered with amateurs
were South Korean.
Some joked on the tee boxes and greens with their playing
partners. A few spoke a little, offering shy smiles or
“nice shots” and walking down the middle of the fairways
as their partners and caddies – most of them American
– drove down the cart paths to the green.
Shim spends many of his hours off the course with the
South Korean players, going to dinner and talking with
them in hotel rooms. He is a sort of big brother, helping
them adapt to American culture and expectations.
He said players are increasingly receptive to making
themselves more accessible for the American news media
and fans, and have learned some of the nuances and traditions
of the Tour, such as visiting the volunteer tent for
autographs and pictures after a victory.
“Everybody at the beginning, they were afraid of talking,
they were afraid of what to do,” Shim said. “Now they
know. It’s kind of loosening up. Now, because they’re doing
so well, the next step is, ‘I have to learn English to
move a step ahead.’ ”
In the past couple of years, the tour has hired a language
consultant, who comes to nearly every tournament to
teach the South Korean players English, often putting
them through mock news interviews. Shim said that 10
to 15 of the South Koreans on Tour require an interpreter,
a duty he sometimes performs, but the number
is decreasing.
“They want us to speak more English,” said the 20-yearold
Seon Hwa Lee, who won the ShopRite L.P.G.A.
Classic last month and gets tutored in English every week.
“Like in the pro-am – how do you say? – be more comfortable
with the amateurs, and with interviews.”
Many of the South Koreans take their lead from the 28-
year-old Pak, who won the first two majors she played in
1998 and won the McDonald’s L.P.G.A. Championship
last month, bumping South Korea’s journey in the World
Cup from the top of the sports news there.
“Se Ri winning a major and coming back and doing
interviews and everything by herself, that looked really
good on her,” Shim said of Pak’s victory last month.
“Now, these young girls are noticing that stuff. ‘Hey, if
I’m able to speak, they’ll love me more.’ They’re finally
realizing that.”
Pak harbors no resentment that the South Koreans seem
to get far less attention in this country than similarly
young American women with little more than potential
on their résumés.
“This is America,” Pak said. “And it’s a culture thing. You
want to see America do better than a different country.”
For now, on the L.P.G.A. Tour, that is not happening. But
the South Korean players are adjusting to the L.P.G.A.,
while the L.P.G.A. adjusts to the South Koreans. And the
fans have a wide world of options to cheer.
Hot for the Holidays:
The Lure
of a Korean Sauna
By SHERIDAN PRASSO
On the hot mat floor of the one of various saunas
at the King Spa Sauna in Palisades Park, N.J., a
dozen people are seated cross-legged in a circle
under a low dome graced with a six-pointed star of mosaic
stones and crystals. In the center are mineral rocks,
which “radiate strong energy” left over from volcanic explosions,
according to a sign that also promises “anti-aging
as sweat sprouts and fresh energy comes out.”
And come out it does. Beads of sweat pool on patrons’
foreheads and trickle from their temples; damp spots
spread slowly across their T-shirts. When they have sat as
long as they can stand it, they leave through a low door
and rest for a while outside before moving on. Next is
the Gold Pyramid Sauna. Lined with gold leaf, it is said,
among many other things, to affect “nerve stability, poison
counteraction and neurosis.”
On any given winter weekend day, the King Spa Sauna
is mobbed. Open 365 days a year, the Korean bathhouse
is particularly crowded at holiday time, when purification
and restoration make their way onto many a New
Year’s resolution list. A $35 admission fee permits use of
the facilities. For those who work up an appetite as well
as a sweat, there is a restaurant serving inexpensive spicy
Korean dishes and fresh-squeezed juice drinks.
Call it holiday detox, Korean-style. “When you come out,
you feel 100 pounds lifted off you,” said Michelle Hong,
18, a freshman at University of California, San Diego,
who was visiting her parents in Hackensack, N.J., for the
holidays and fresh out of the Rock Salt Sauna. “You feel
lighter. You feel so free. My aunt comes every day. She
says it’s supposed to cleanse bad stuff out of you.”
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Copyright © 2006 by The New York Times Co. Reprinted with permission.