The Burning Question

Since my return from Korea, and our family's emergence from a self-inflicted period of nuclear family togetherness and isolation, we have been out and about mingling with family, friends, and neighbors.  When people learn that I went to Korea to meet Emma and bring her home, they have one burning question:
What is it really like?
I'm not sure what answer people expect or hope for when they ask this question.  Are they wondering just how "foreign" the country and its people seemed?  Are they expecting me to give them some sort of American spin on the status of Korea today?  I just don't know what it is they think they want to hear, partially because I was only in one corner of one city for less than 72 hours.  I think what they really want to know is how different it is, how different, or "better", we are.  I do know, without a doubt, what my answer to the question is. 
When  I close my eyes I can picture Korea in my mind, snapshots of the things we saw dance beneath my eyelids, and I am once again walking through the streets of Seoul, avoiding mopeds and motorcycles on the sidewalk, and trying to figure out where to eat dinner.  The thing that stands out to me in all of those mental snapshots is how alike we are; people are people all the world over.*
On our drive from the airport to ESWS, we saw families playing in the park.  Mothers chased after young children, toddlers grinned from ear to ear from a perch on their fathers' shoulders, and young couples in love held hands.  Older kids kicked a soccer ball back and forth.  A dog ran after a ball.  There were strollers, picnic blankets, and bicycles. 
As we walked around the area in which Eastern is located, we saw people window shopping as they walked past stores.  In the Hyundai Department store women dug through bargain bins full of children's clothing, looking for a deal.  There were vendors on the sidewalk selling anything and everything, from flowers to t-shirts, from bulgogi to strawberries, trying to make a living.  In any American city, from Seattle to NY, you'll see the same thing. 
In Insadong we saw tourists of all nationalities taking pictures, running their fingers over the beautiful cloth table runners, looking for the best deal in souvenirs.  At lunchtime we saw a mad rush of people heading for their favorite restaurants.  When we peeked in the windows of those same restaurants, we saw the lunch rush of people smiling, laughing, and engaging with each other.  Does that seem foreign to you?
I will never understand why some people insist on believing that we are so different.  Why does it need to be "us" and "them"?  Why not just "we"?  Because We are ALL people.  WE ALL share this earth.  WE ALL have mothers,fathers, a family, a job, responsibilities, etc.  I know that cultural differences are real.  I know values differ from one area of the world to the next.  I know that.  But at the bottom of all of that, beneath national pride, religious preference, language, and the way way we look, lie the very things that make us the same. 
What was it really like?  It was really like home.  People are people all of the world over.  Mothers are still mothers, daughters are still daughters, friends are still friends.  The scenery may change, language may differ, but people are people all the world over.

*Sorry for stealing your words, Mom.