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¡ã ¸ÅÆ® À§´õ½ºÇ¬ (¼¼¸í´ë ¿ø¾î¹Î ±³¼ö) |
I just returned from a long and interesting summer vacation in the USA and Canada. It had been three years since my last visit, which was the longest I’ve ever stayed away from home. Being out of one’s home country for years at a time can offer a new perspective on once familiar surroundings.
³ª´Â ¹Ì±¹°ú ij³ª´Ù¿¡¼ ²Ï ±æ°í Áñ°Å¿î ¿©¸§ ÈÞ°¡¸¦ º¸³»°í ¸· µ¹¾Æ¿Ô´Ù. À̹ø ¹æ¹®Àº 3³â ¸¸À̾ú°í, ÁýÀ» ¶°³ª °¡Àå ¿À·¡ ¸Ó¹°·¶´ø ¿©ÇàÀ̾ú´Ù. Çѵ¿¾È ¸ð±¹À» ¶°³ª ÀÖ´Ù°¡ ´Ù½Ã °¡º¸´Ï, ÇÑ ¶§ Àͼ÷Çß´ø dz°æµéÀÌ ¾ÆÁÖ »õ·Ó°Ô ´Ù°¡¿Ô´Ù.
One thing that struck me at first, and appeared throughout the visit, was the vast diversity of ethnic groups and immigrants that I encountered on a daily basis. When I was in social studies class in middle school, they taught us that America was a “melting pot”, where people all over the world came and blended together in a common culture, kind of like a soup made of many ingredients.
ù ¼ø°£ºÎÅÍ, ±×¸®°í ¿©Çà ³»³» ³ª¸¦ ³î¶ó°Ô ÇÑ °ÍÀº ¸ÅÀÏ ¸ÅÀÏ ¸¸³ª°Ô µÇ´Â ¾öû³ª°Ô ´Ù¾çÇÑ ÀÎÁ¾°ú À̹ÎÀÚµéÀ̾ú´Ù. ÁßÇб³ »çȸ½Ã°£¿¡ ¼±»ý´ÔµéÀº ¹Ì±¹ »çȸ°¡ ÇϳªÀÇ ‘¿ë±¤·Î(melting pot)’¶ó°í °¡¸£ÃÆ´Ù. °®°¡Áö Àç·á·Î ¸¸µé¾îÁø ¼öÇÁó·³ Àü ¼¼°è »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¸ð¿© ¼¯ÀÌ¸é¼ ÇϳªÀÇ °øÅë ¹®È¸¦ ¸¸µç´Ù´Â °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù.
Another view is that America is a “salad bowl”, where the different groups are mixed together but retain their identity, similar to how you can see the different items in a salad and recognize the carrots and cucumbers. I saw examples of both, so depending on the situation, either metaphor fits.
¶Ç ÇϳªÀÇ ½Ã°¢Àº ¹Ì±¹ »çȸ°¡ ‘»ø·¯µå Á¢½Ã(salad bowl)’¶ó´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¼·Î ´Ù¸¥ ¾ßäµéÀÌ ¼¯¿© ÀÖÁö¸¸ °¢°¢ÀÇ Á¤Ã¼¼ºÀ» Áö´Ï°í ÀÖ´Ù´Â ¾ê±â´Ù. »ø·¯µå Á¢½Ã¿¡ ´ã±ä ´ç±Ù°ú ¿ÀÀ̸¦ ±¸ºÐÇØ¼ º¼ ¼ö ÀÖÀ¸´Ï±î. ³ª´Â Çö½Ç¿¡¼ µÎ °¡ÁöÀÇ ¿¹¸¦ ´Ù ºÃ°í, »óȲ¿¡ µû¶ó °¢°¢ ÀûÀýÇÑ ºñÀ¯°¡ µÇ¾ú´Ù.
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¡ã ¿ë±¤·Î(melting pot) ¨Ï À§Å°ÇÇµð¾Æ |
The encounters with cultural diversity began upon arrival at the airport, in Seattle. The first official we met directing us to the correct Immigration lines had a thick Russian accent and a long, Russian name on her badge that I couldn’t begin to pronounce. Obviously, she was not born there. The rest of the Immigration officials were a rainbow of humanity, with Asians, African-Americans, Hispanics, and Caucasians all checking passports.
¹®ÈÀû ´Ù¾ç¼º°úÀÇ ¸¶ÁÖħÀº ½Ã¾ÖƲÀÇ °øÇ׿¡ µµÂøÇÏ¸é¼ ½ÃÀ۵ƴÙ. ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô óÀ½À¸·Î ÀÔ±¹ÀåÀ» ¾È³»ÇØÁØ ´ã´çÀÚ´Â °ÇÑ ·¯½Ã¾Æ°è ¸»Åõ¿´°í, ¹ßÀ½Çϱ⠾î·Á¿î ±ä ·¯½Ã¾Æ À̸§ÀÌ ÀûÈù ¸íÂûÀ» ´Þ°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±× »ç¶÷Àº ¹Ì±¹¿¡¼ žÁö ¾ÊÀº °Ô ºÐ¸íÇØ º¸¿´´Ù. ¿©±ÇÀ» È®ÀÎÇÏ´Â ´Ù¸¥ ÀÔ±¹Àå Á÷¿øµéµµ ¾Æ½Ã¾ÆÀÎ, ¾ÆÇÁ¸®Ä«°è ¹Ì±¹ÀÎ, È÷½ºÆÐ´Ð°è, ÄÚÄ¿¼½º°è(¹éÀÎ) µî ¹«Áö°³Ã³·³ ´Ù¾çÇÑ ÀÎÁ¾À¸·Î ±¸¼ºµÇ¾î ÀÖ¾ú´Ù.
As we exited the airport, nearly every one of the taxi drivers waiting at the curb were Sikhs, wearing turbans and speaking Punjabi or some other Indian language amongst themselves.
°øÇ×À» ºüÁ®³ª¿Í º¸´Ï, µµ·Îº¯¿¡¼ ±â´Ù¸®´Â Åýà ±â»çµéÀº °ÅÀÇ ´Ù Å͹øÀ» ¾²°í ÆÝÀâ¾î³ª ´Ù¸¥ Àεµ¾î¸¦ ¾²´Â ½ÃÅ©±³µµµéÀ̾ú´Ù.
The next day, I had a meeting with my financial planner, Khurshed, who came to the US, in 1995, from Kazakhstan. He told me he speaks Russian with his wife, at home.
´ÙÀ½ ³¯, ³ª´Â À繫¼³°è»çÀÎ Äí¸£¼¼µå(Khurshed)¿Í ¸¸³µ´Âµ¥ ±×´Â 1995³â Ä«ÀÚÈ彺ź¿¡¼ ¹Ì±¹¿¡ ¿Ô´Ù. ±×´Â Áý¿¡¼ ¾Æ³»¿Í´Â ·¯½Ã¾Æ¾î·Î ¸»ÇÑ´Ù°í Çß´Ù.
Then I went to my father’s apple orchard, which is managed by Santiago, from Mexico. He speaks Spanish with the Mexican farm workers, and English with me and my father.
±× ´ÙÀ½ ¾Æ¹öÁöÀÇ »ç°ú °ú¼ö¿ø¿¡ °¬´Âµ¥, ±× °÷Àº ¸ß½ÃÄÚ¿¡¼ ¿Â »êƼ¾Æ°í°¡ ²Ù·Á°¡°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ¸ß½ÃÄÚÀÎ ³óÀå Àκεé°ú´Â ½ºÆäÀξî·Î ¸»ÇÏÁö¸¸, ³ª³ª ³» ¾Æ¹öÁö¿Í ¾ê±âÇÒ ¶§´Â ¿µ¾î¸¦ ½è´Ù.
A few days later I had dinner with my friend Richard, and his wife, Ji, from Thailand, where I got to say the only Thai words I know, “Sawadee” (hello), and “Kaphun krap” (thank you), and talk about my past visits to Thailand.
¸çÄ¥ ÈÄ, Ä£±¸ÀÎ ¸®Â÷µå(Richard)¿Í ±×ÀÇ Å±¹ÀÎ ¾Æ³» Áö(Ji)¿Í Àú³áÀ» ÇÔ²² Çß´Ù. ³ª´Â “»ç¿Íµð(¾È³çÇϼ¼¿ä)”¿Í “īǬ Å©¶ø(°¨»çÇÕ´Ï´Ù)”µî ³»°¡ ¾Æ´Â ¸î ¸¶µð ű¹¾î·Î Àλ縦 °Ç³Þ°í, ¾ó¸¶ Àü¿¡ °¬´ø ű¹ À̾߱⸦ ³ª´³´Ù.
I also went to lunch with an old high school friend, who was in town visiting his parents, much like me. He now lives in France, with his Italian wife, Paola, and their daughter, Luna, who was adopted from China. They speak French, Italian, and English at home. All this diversity was found in a very small town of 35,000 people, far from any major city.
³ªÃ³·³ ºÎ¸ð´ÔÀ» º¸·¯ ¿Â °íµîÇб³ µ¿Ã¢µµ ¸¸³ª Á¡½ÉÀ» ÇÔ²² Çß´Ù. ÇöÀç ±×´Â ÆÄ¿Ã¶ó(Paola)¶ó´Â ÀÌÅ»¸®¾ÆÀÎ ¾Æ³», ±×¸®°í Áß±¹¿¡¼ ÀÔ¾çÇÑ µþ ·ç³ª(Luna)¿Í ÇÔ²² ÇÁ¶û½º¿¡¼ »ê´Ù. ±×µé °¡Á·Àº Áý¿¡¼ ºÒ¾î, ÀÌÅ»¸®¾Æ¾î, ¿µ¾î·Î ¸»ÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ´Ù¾ç¼ºÀÌ ¸ðµÎ ´ëµµ½Ã¿¡¼ ¸Ö¸® ¶³¾îÁø, °íÀÛ Àα¸ 35,000ÀÇ ÀÛÀº µµ½Ã¿¡¼ ¸ñ°ÝµÇ¾ú´ø °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
As we traveled, more examples of the wide variety of people now living in the US were presented daily. While looking for a place to camp in Glacier National Park, Montana, the ranger who helped us find a site turned out to be from the Philippines. After setting up the tent, I bought coffee from a Jamaican lady at the campground store, deep in the wilderness of the Rocky Mountains.
¿ì¸®´Â ¿©ÇàÇÏ¸é¼ ¹Ì±¹¿¡ »ì°í ÀÖ´Â ´Ù¾çÇÑ ÀÎÁ¾ÀÇ »ç·Ê¸¦ °è¼Ó ¹ß°ßÇß´Ù. ¸óųªÀÇ ±Û·¡À̼Å(Glacier) ±¹¸³°ø¿ø¿¡¼ Ä·ÇÁÀåÀ» ãÀ» ¶§ ¿ì¸®¸¦ µµ¿ÍÁØ ¼øÂû´ë´Â Çʸ®ÇÉ¿¡¼ ¿Â »ç¶÷À̾ú´Ù. ÅÙÆ®¸¦ ¼³Ä¡ÇÑ ÈÄ, ³ª´Â Ä·ÇÁÀå °¡°Ô¿¡¼ ÀÚ¸¶ÀÌÄ«ÀÎ ¿©¼ºÀ¸·ÎºÎÅÍ Ä¿ÇǸ¦ »ò´Ù. ±íÀº ·ÏŰ»ê¸ÆÀÇ È²¾ß¿¡¼ ¸»ÀÌ´Ù.
It was a similar story when we crossed into Canada, a few days later. At a viewpoint in Waterton Lakes Park, a dark-skinned family next to us was speaking some African-sounding language. The father then asked us, in accented English, if we would like him to take our photo, which we did. I then had a chance to return the favor, and ask where they were from. Kenya, was the reply, but they have lived in Canada for nearly 10 years.
¸çÄ¥ ÈÄ¿¡ ij³ª´Ù¿¡ °¬À» ¶§µµ ºñ½ÁÇÑ ÀÏÀÌ ¹ú¾îÁ³´Ù. ¿öÅÍÅæ È£¼ö °ø¿øÀÇ Àü¸Á´ë¿¡¼ ¸¸³ °ËÀº ÇǺÎÀÇ °¡Á·µéÀº ¾ÆÇÁ¸®Ä«¾î·Î µé¸®´Â ¾ð¾î·Î ¸»Çϰí ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±× ¾Æ¹öÁö´Â µ¶Æ¯ÇÑ ¾ï¾çÀÇ ¿µ¾î·Î ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô »çÁøÀ» Âï¾îÁÖ°Ú´Ù°í ¸»Çß´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ±× Á¦¾ÈÀ» ¹Þ¾Æµé¿´°í, ÀÌ¾î ±× °¡Á·ÀÇ »çÁøÀ» Âï¾îÁÖ¾ú´Ù. ¾îµð¼ ¿Ô³Ä°í ¹°¾ú´õ´Ï, ÄɳĶó°í ¸»Çß´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ±× °¡Á·Àº ÀÌ¹Ì 10³â °¡±îÀÌ Ä³³ª´Ù¿¡¼ »ì°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù.
That night we drove into the village of Didsbury, Alberta, in a thunderstorm, looking for a hotel. The first one we found was owned by Koreans, originally from Kwangju. They were very pleased to be able to speak Korean with my wife and catch up news from their homeland.
±×³¯ ¹ã Æø¿ì ¼Ó¿¡ ¾Ë¹öŸÁÖÀÇ µðÁ¸®·Î ¿îÀüÇØ °¡¸é¼ È£ÅÚÀ» ã¾Ò´Ù. ¿ì¸®°¡ óÀ½ ãÀº °÷Àº ±¤ÁÖ¿¡¼ ¿Â Çѱ¹ÀεéÀÌ ¼ÒÀ¯ÇÑ °÷À̾ú´Ù. ±×µéÀº Çѱ¹ÀÎÀÎ ³» ¾Æ³»¿Í Çѱ¹¸»·Î ¾ê±âÇϸé¼, °í±¹ ¼Ò½ÄÀ» µéÀ» ¼ö ÀÖ°Ô µÈ °ÍÀ» ¸Å¿ì ±â»µÇß´Ù.
We then drove north, to Saskatchewan, listening to French, Ukrainian, and English on the radio, to visit a Canadian friend, his Korean wife, and their 11-year-old son, who is a perfect mix of both parents. One minute he is speaking English with his father and the next minute he’s speaking Korean with his mother. He’ll eat a hamburger for lunch and kimchijjigae for dinner. Their son is a good example of the melting pot theory.
±× ÈÄ ¿ì¸®´Â ºÒ¾î, ¿ìÅ©¶óÀ̳ª¾î, ¿µ¾î·Î ¶óµð¿À¸¦ µéÀ¸¸é¼ ºÏÂÊ »ç½ºÄ«Ä¡¿Ï(Saskatchewan)À» ÇâÇØ ¿îÀüÇß´Ù. ±× °÷¿¡ »ì°í Àִ ij³ª´ÙÀΠ챏¸¦ ¸¸³ª±â À§Çؼ¿´´Ù. ±×´Â Çѱ¹ÀÎ ¾Æ³»¿Í 11»ì Â¥¸® ¾ÆµéÀ» µÎ°í Àִµ¥, ±× ¾ÆµéÀº ºÎ¸ð¸¦ ¿Ïº®ÇÏ°Ô Àß ¼¯¾î ³õÀº ¸ð½ÀÀ̾ú´Ù. ±× ¾ÆÀÌ´Â ¾Æºü¿Í´Â ¿µ¾î·Î, ¾ö¸¶¿Í´Â Çѱ¹¾î·Î ´ëÈÇß´Ù. ¾Æ¸¶ Á¡½ÉÀ¸·Î´Â Çܹö°Å¸¦ ¸Ô°í, Àú³áÀº ±èÄ¡Âî°³¸¦ ¸ÔÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±× ºÎºÎÀÇ ¾ÆµéÀº ¿ë±¤·Î ÀÌ·ÐÀÇ ÁÁÀº ¿¹ÀÌ´Ù.
The stories go on and on. Every day I heard a foreign language and saw someone from a different culture. I think back to high school, where I had classmates from a dozen foreign countries. We all spoke English together in class, ate the same food at the cafeteria, and played the same games in gym class. After school, they’d go home, speak their native language with their parents, and eat something from the homeland.
ÀÌ·± À̾߱âµéÀº °è¼ÓµÈ´Ù. ³¯¸¶´Ù ³ª´Â ¿Ü±¹¾î¸¦ µé¾ú°í, ´Ù¸¥ ¹®È±Ç¿¡¼ ¿Â ´©±º°¡¸¦ ¸¸³µ´Ù. °íµîÇб³ ¶§¸¦ µ¹ÀÌÄѺ¸¸é, ÇÑ ¹Ý¿¡¼ ½Ê ¿© ¸í Á¤µµ°¡ ¿Ü±¹¿¡¼ ¿Â Ä£±¸µéÀ̾ú´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ÇÔ²² ¿µ¾î·Î ¸»Çß°í, ½Ä´ç¿¡¼ °°Àº À½½ÄÀ» ¸Ô°í, üÀ°°ü¿¡¼ °°Àº ¿îµ¿À» Çß´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¹æ°ú ÈÄ¿¡ ±×µéÀº Áý¿¡ °¡¼ ºÎ¸ð¿Í ¸ð±¹¾î·Î ´ëÈÇϰí, °í±¹ÀÇ ÀüÅë À½½ÄÀ» ¸Ô¾úÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù.
It felt like a melting pot then, and in school, at work, and other places where everyone is together doing the same thing it probably still is. But it’s also nice to see so much diversity and that the immigrants still keep their culture alive. Maybe that’s why soup and salad go so well together.
´ç½Ã¿¡ Çб³¿¡¼, Á÷Àå¿¡¼, ¶Ç ´Ù¸¥ Àå¼Ò¿¡¼ ¸ðµç »ç¶÷ÀÌ ¸ð¿©¼ ¶È°°Àº °ÍÀ» ÇÔ²² ÇÒ ¶§´Â ‘¿ë±¤·Î’¸¦ ´À²¼°í, ±×°ÍÀº ¿©ÀüÈ÷ ±×·² °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ÇÏÁö¸¸ ¾öû³ ´Ù¾ç¼º°ú, À̹ÎÀÚµéÀÌ ÀڽŵéÀÇ ¹®È¸¦ »ý»ýÇÏ°Ô ÁöÄѰ¡´Â °ÍÀ» ÁöÄѺ¸´Â °Í ¶ÇÇÑ ¸ÚÁø ÀÏÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¡¼ ¼öÇÁ¿Í »ø·¯µå°¡ ±×·¸°Ô Àß ¾î¿ï¸®´Â °ÍÀΰ¡ º¸´Ù.
(¿øÁ¦: Soup and Salad by Matt Witherspoon)
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