Week One in the Land of Hyundai

It's been a week since I've been here and nothing feels quite real yet. Just feels like this odd vacation I'm taking where I work, but soon I'll go home. Though I know I won't. It's strange, but an expected strangeness.
I feel pretty proud of myself because today I went a-wandering around the city on my own with little more than myself, my camera, my (usually) piss poor sense of direction, and a map that points out landmarks with minimal regard for the reality of where the surrounding streets are situated.
(Speaking of my camera, check out my Flickr page for my photos of ole' Ulsan, http://www.flickr.com/photos/39001789@N05/)
I only got lost once! And I found my way back to where I needed to be pretty easily. I'm beginning to get my bearings here, and within probably a mile or so radius of my house I feel relatively comfortable that I could get home. I look forward to branching outwards more. Ulsan is a big city. Sky scrapers are everywhere, so are neon signs and the ever so pleasant, and unique, smell of trash that often wafts into my nostrils from a small side street, or the back of a restaurant (which are everywhere!). Oh well, such is urban life. In spite of which I've heard this is a pretty green city with a relatively low level of pollution, which is nice. Everyone recycles. My landlady recycles. She's adorable, and doesn't speak a lick of english, and as it turns out I barely speak a lick of Korean (yet), but in spite of this we get on quite well.
Any how: Ulsan. I am living in the city that Hyundai originated in. Hyundai's are everywhere zipping around at top speed, and at a disturbingly close proximity to everything. The streets in this city are very narrow, but apparently this is something the drivers are very used to. After work the other day I was heading to the grocery store to pick up a few things. Myself, and a bunch of other people, were on the cross walk as a car came speeding down the street. I noticed a woman with a baby strapped to her chest was walking into the center of the road (on the cross walk mind you) but the car barreling its way down the street didn't seem to give much of a damn, and zipped by her with literally about a foot of room to spare. After the little person in my head gasped I (again) looked both ways, and scooted to the other side.
A similar thing happened on the side street I was taking to get home--however this time it was with two cars that were parked at really odd angles--the car driving down the street (a truck mind you) raced between the two like it was nothing--and again the little person in my head gasped, and felt relieved that nothing had gotten hit.
As I am learning Korea is a country where people are used to close quarters in so many ways--in the past (not sure how much so in the present) the family was always an extended family consisting of 3 generations, if not more. I've noticed that some of the other native english teachers I've spoken to have commented on how Koreans can seem emotionally immature. I got to thinking about this, and thinking about how the family structure operates, how their Confusist ideals (think: partriarchy, and obligation to the group) and also how close Korean people (everyone is always touching and holding hands, men with men, women with women, children especially) seem to be. It is a strange thing for a person to do things alone, or to just be alone. With that in mind it made me think that OK, maybe it is true that some Korean people are somewhat emotionally immature, (because you can never generalize, no culture is ever entirely homogenous) but lets consider this: if you never, or rather rarely, have time to yourself, how can you reflect, and self analyze? How can you learn to stop and step back from the emotions you are experiencing enough to consider their implications and meanings? To me it seems like you really can't. So I think that maybe this perceived immaturity is not so much a defect in the people, so much as it is perhaps a product of their way of living.
It's interesting because I was reading an article in the New York Times today about rising Korean divorce rates--and it was talking about how Korea is westernizing at a breakneck speed. How this culture is adapting to the west in the matter of a few years, whereas Japan, for example, has been making the slow transition since the seventies. It's all so interesting to consider. The western world has had decades upon decades to cultivate a sense of independence and individuality--and these are things that lay deeper within us, things that mature at our cores, things that take time to develop, and nothing else.