ASSOCIATED PRESS
在G20峰会期间，陪同各国元首访韩的第一夫人们在首尔观看了一场传统韩服与现代时装秀。
我
常说，到韩国生活和工作的有两种人：长期居留的人和很快离开的人。我知道，这么分类太简单了。但这是事实。有些人出于各种原因发现很难在韩国生活，他们要么无法适应，要么无法理解那里的人。他们通常一两年后就会沮丧地离开。而对于另一些人而言，韩国无形的魅力吸引着他们不断回到那里。
我可以算作后一种人。
我1995年来到韩国，本来计划只待上一年，边玩边还清学生贷款。但是，我太喜欢这里的生活了，以至于待了五年才恋恋不舍地离开。后来，我在加拿大又待过三年，发现自己很怀念在韩国的生活，于是2003年我又回到了这里。
韩国有何特别之处？现在，谈论韩国多么富有活力已经是陈词滥调。但是现在这一点比我初到韩国时更为明显。这个国家总是忙个不停，支撑它的是以急性子著称的韩国民众。这就是为什么“ppalli-ppalli”（意为“快，快”）这个词是几乎所有外国人到韩国后最早学会的词之一。
空间密度与城市魅力
这种活力部分来自于人口的高密度。约有2,300万人居住在首尔及其外围，所有外围郊区都由堪称世界上最发达的铁路系统完全连接。这使得通勤变得异常高效。我上班只要20分钟，费用约为80美分。
首尔在文化多元性上从来无法与纽约或多伦多相比，但它的城市景观既生气勃勃，又充满魅力。我初到韩国时令首尔中心区黯然失色的工厂已经迁往首都以外的无菌工业园区，只留下发展与喧嚣并存的商业区和居民区。
作为一名长期居住在韩国的外国人，过去十年中我最乐于看到的变化趋势就是“发展第一”态度的消失。韩国人仍在努力前行，仍然很在意本国相对于其它国家的地位高低，但他们终于开始享受富足，为自己打造更高的生活质量。道路交通不再比行人更重要，艺术欣欣向荣，设计现在成为城市规划的中心宗旨。人们延长了休假时间，前往世界各地旅游。
外来者
但是，有一件事没有变：这里的外国人始终是外国人。
韩国人的文化融合程度并不高，尤其是西方人很难融入他们的企业等级制度，在这种制度下，年轻员工应该照年长同事说的做。我的经验是，外国人并不很适应这种公司等级制度，特别是白人。年长的团队成员往往不知道如何与外国人打交道。他们可能缺乏语言技能，或只是感到不能像对年轻同事那样对外国人呼来喝去。
在这种环境下，外国人往往会被边缘化，或者可能被降格去和恰好在美国住过的下层团队成员谈话，但实际上无法参与战略性或创造性讨论。因此，即使是韩语说得很好的外国人也会感到大材小用、才能不受重视。
我的一位好朋友最近离开首尔去了悉尼，因为他的公司──一家有100名员工的跨国企业当地分公司──不赏识他展现的卓越管理技能。再加上他受过良好教育、事业心很强的妻子也没能找到满意的工作。这是外国夫妇在韩国感到不满的常见原因。对于外国夫妇而言，很难两个人都在这里过得很舒心，除非其中一人不介意花一两年的时间做志愿工作或写书。
全球化与特殊性
同样的矛盾──希望成为国际社会的一分子，同时又认为自己是特殊的──也以各种方式表现出来。
在公关公司工作时，我有时发现自己夹在跨国公司的韩国员工──我的客户──和他们在国外总部的老板中间。本地员工可能不希望让老板知道某些东西，他们防着我，但也知道我在这里呆过一段时间，他们会寻求我在这个问题上的理解。
与其说这是不正当行为，不如说这是权宜之计。对于不了解韩国为何要成为企业品牌管理原则的特例的欧美老板，本地客户并不打算阻止或教育他们。
韩国人仍然认为他们的市场是独一无二的，不需要遵守规则，并认为到这里来的人应该习惯这点。
然而，细想一下，这难道不是多数市场中很正常的态度吗？关于韩国，我学到的最重要的经验就是，只要稍作努力，试着了解为何在韩国他们会这样做，就会得到许多收获。对于愿意做出这种努力的人，首尔会变成一个让人流连忘返的地方。
MIKE WEISBART
（本文版权归道琼斯公司所有，未经许可不得翻译或转载。）
http://www.cn.wsj.com/gb/20101124/ecm084900.asp?source=whatnews2
I often say there are two kinds of people who come to live and work in South Korea: those who stay for a long time and those who leave quickly.
Too simple, I know. But there is truth to it. Some people find Korea to be a difficult place and, for any number of reasons, they either can't adapt or can't figure the people out. They typically leave frustrated after just a year or two. For the other group, Korea has an intangible allure that keeps them coming back for more.
Count me in the latter camp.
I arrived in 1995, planning for just a one-year tour of adventure and student-loan repayment. Instead, I enjoyed the life so much that it took me five years to extricate myself. Then after a three-year hiatus in Canada, I found myself missing the action and returned in 2003.
What's so special about Korea? By now, it's a cliché to talk about how dynamic Korea is. But it's even truer today than when I first arrived. The country has a constant buzz, sustained by its famously in-a-hurry population. There is a reason why the words ppalli-ppalli, meaning 'fast fast,' are among the first words that nearly all foreigners learn soon after arrival.
Dense and Inviting
The dynamism derives in part from the sheer density of the place. Some 23 million people live in and around Seoul, with all the outlying suburbs fully connected by one of the most advanced subway systems in the world. This makes for fantastically efficient commutes. I do mine in 20 minutes at a cost of about 80 cents.
Seoul will never rival New York or Toronto for cultural diversity, but its urban landscape is both lively and charming. The factories that made the city core gray and uninviting when I arrived have been banished to sterile industrial parks in the provinces, leaving the commercial and residential zones to grow and bustle cheek-by-jowl.
As a longtime foreign resident, the trend I've enjoyed watching the most over the past decade is the demise of the 'development first' attitude. Koreans are still charging hard, still obsessed with their position relative to other countries, but they are finally starting to enjoy their affluence by building themselves a better quality of life. Road traffic is no longer more important than pedestrians, the arts have flourished, and design is now a central tenet in urban planning. People take longer vacations and travel the world.
The Outsiders
One thing hasn't changed, though: At the end of the day foreigners here will always be foreigners.
Koreans are poor at cultural integration, particularly when it comes to incorporating Westerners in their corporate hierarchies, where younger workers are expected to follow their older colleagues. My experience is that foreigners don't fit well in that hierarchy, especially if they are white. Too often, older team members don't know how to relate to foreigners. They may lack the linguistic skills, or simply feel that a foreigner can't be ordered around like they do their younger colleagues.
In such an environment, a foreigner will tend to be marginalized, or perhaps relegated to talking to a junior person on the team who happens to have lived in the U.S. but in truth isn't privy to strategy or creative discussions. As a result, even foreigners who speak Korean well can feel underutilized, their skills unappreciated.
A close associate of mine recently left Seoul for Sydney because his firm, a 100-person local branch of a multinational, failed to appreciate the considerable management skills he brought to the table. It didn't help that his educated and career-oriented wife could not find meaningful employment. This is a common complaint among spouses. It is difficult for both halves of an expatriate couple to be comfortable here, unless one of them doesn't mind volunteering or writing a book for a year or two.
Global vs. Exceptional
That same push-pull─wanting to be part of the international community but also seeing themselves as exceptional─manifests itself in myriad ways.
While working in public-relations agencies, I've sometimes found myself between a multinational company's Korean staff─my client─and their boss in the overseas headquarters. The local staff may want to hide something from the boss and, worrying about me but also knowing that I've been here for a while, will seek my 'understanding' in the matter.
It's much more a matter of expediency than anything illicit. The local client simply doesn't want to stop and educate their European or American boss, who may not see why Korea has to be an exception to corporate brand-management principles.
Koreans still believe their market to be unique, a place that doesn't need to follow the rules, and expats who come here ought to get used to that.
Come to think of it, though, isn't that attitude normal in most markets? The most important lesson I've learned about Korea is that a small investment in trying to learn why things happen here the way they do pays dividends. For people willing to make that investment, Seoul more often than not turns into a posting that people seek to extend.
MIKE WEISBART
Too simple, I know. But there is truth to it. Some people find Korea to be a difficult place and, for any number of reasons, they either can't adapt or can't figure the people out. They typically leave frustrated after just a year or two. For the other group, Korea has an intangible allure that keeps them coming back for more.
Count me in the latter camp.
I arrived in 1995, planning for just a one-year tour of adventure and student-loan repayment. Instead, I enjoyed the life so much that it took me five years to extricate myself. Then after a three-year hiatus in Canada, I found myself missing the action and returned in 2003.
What's so special about Korea? By now, it's a cliché to talk about how dynamic Korea is. But it's even truer today than when I first arrived. The country has a constant buzz, sustained by its famously in-a-hurry population. There is a reason why the words ppalli-ppalli, meaning 'fast fast,' are among the first words that nearly all foreigners learn soon after arrival.
Dense and Inviting
The dynamism derives in part from the sheer density of the place. Some 23 million people live in and around Seoul, with all the outlying suburbs fully connected by one of the most advanced subway systems in the world. This makes for fantastically efficient commutes. I do mine in 20 minutes at a cost of about 80 cents.
Seoul will never rival New York or Toronto for cultural diversity, but its urban landscape is both lively and charming. The factories that made the city core gray and uninviting when I arrived have been banished to sterile industrial parks in the provinces, leaving the commercial and residential zones to grow and bustle cheek-by-jowl.
As a longtime foreign resident, the trend I've enjoyed watching the most over the past decade is the demise of the 'development first' attitude. Koreans are still charging hard, still obsessed with their position relative to other countries, but they are finally starting to enjoy their affluence by building themselves a better quality of life. Road traffic is no longer more important than pedestrians, the arts have flourished, and design is now a central tenet in urban planning. People take longer vacations and travel the world.
The Outsiders
One thing hasn't changed, though: At the end of the day foreigners here will always be foreigners.
Koreans are poor at cultural integration, particularly when it comes to incorporating Westerners in their corporate hierarchies, where younger workers are expected to follow their older colleagues. My experience is that foreigners don't fit well in that hierarchy, especially if they are white. Too often, older team members don't know how to relate to foreigners. They may lack the linguistic skills, or simply feel that a foreigner can't be ordered around like they do their younger colleagues.
In such an environment, a foreigner will tend to be marginalized, or perhaps relegated to talking to a junior person on the team who happens to have lived in the U.S. but in truth isn't privy to strategy or creative discussions. As a result, even foreigners who speak Korean well can feel underutilized, their skills unappreciated.
A close associate of mine recently left Seoul for Sydney because his firm, a 100-person local branch of a multinational, failed to appreciate the considerable management skills he brought to the table. It didn't help that his educated and career-oriented wife could not find meaningful employment. This is a common complaint among spouses. It is difficult for both halves of an expatriate couple to be comfortable here, unless one of them doesn't mind volunteering or writing a book for a year or two.
Global vs. Exceptional
That same push-pull─wanting to be part of the international community but also seeing themselves as exceptional─manifests itself in myriad ways.
While working in public-relations agencies, I've sometimes found myself between a multinational company's Korean staff─my client─and their boss in the overseas headquarters. The local staff may want to hide something from the boss and, worrying about me but also knowing that I've been here for a while, will seek my 'understanding' in the matter.
It's much more a matter of expediency than anything illicit. The local client simply doesn't want to stop and educate their European or American boss, who may not see why Korea has to be an exception to corporate brand-management principles.
Koreans still believe their market to be unique, a place that doesn't need to follow the rules, and expats who come here ought to get used to that.
Come to think of it, though, isn't that attitude normal in most markets? The most important lesson I've learned about Korea is that a small investment in trying to learn why things happen here the way they do pays dividends. For people willing to make that investment, Seoul more often than not turns into a posting that people seek to extend.
MIKE WEISBART
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