Bloodlines

by Cara Judea Alhadeff, PhD

Dear Saan,
Jumping right into Seoul—I want you to know your ancestral home….

The City:
It’s funny to think back on the night I landed in Seoul.

Having just returned from my solo photography exhibition in Belgium, I arrive at Incheon Airport in an exhausted stupor. Unsure if anyone from the yoga studio would be at the airport to pick me up; unsure if there even was a yoga studio. But there was my name held up by a smiling Korean man who spoke no English. I follow Mr. Sung to his car and sit in traffic gesturing pleasantries while trying desperately to stay awake.

Two hours later, we reach Pure Yoga’s headquarters—I’m in shock. It’s late at night. All the lights are going full blast. The building next door to the studio explodes with a whole wall of massive shimmering disks. Neon-sequence ripples from every shade between green and purple and back again. The building across the street flashes enormous lavender neon rectangles emerging from an entire illuminated chartreuse wall. I am seduced and horrified. Passing Hugo Boss, Louis Quatorze Flawless, and Salvatore Ferrangamo, we finally enter the yoga studio. Mr. Sung and I are greeted by a blast of artificial heat, a New Zealander Vinyasa yoga teacher who looks like she just swam out of the movie set of “The Beach”, and my new boss: Ms. Korea 1994 (in casual dress).

Capitalism is alive and well! Pure Yoga is run by Ms. Korea 1994. She is still! a celebrity, and continues to open spas throughout Asia. Her yoga videos are the highest-grossing, best-sellers throughout Korea, although she does not practice yoga herself. Western-style manufactured beauty and weight-loss regimes reign. This high-end yoga studio charges $40 for a drop-in, four times more than other studios in Seoul. And predictably, this doesn’t reflect how poorly the teachers are paid for our 12-25 classes that we are required to teach each week. Ms. Korea 1994 has put me up in Cheongdam—the Beverly Hills district of Seoul.