Home evokes a sense of nostalgia in most people, regardless of whether it is the English “home” or the German “heimat.”

The same is true for Koreans, who are attached to their “gohyang” and “goguk,” which mean “hometown” and “homeland,” respectively. When Koreans first meet, they often ask, “Where are you from?” or “Where is your hometown?” They tend to attach special meaning to their hometown and have a special affection for their homeland. Indeed, a Korean will never forget his hometown.

When someone asks me where I am from, I reply, “I have many hometowns.” Most Koreans are puzzled by my answer. If you were born in Seoul but left the city at an early age and were raised in Busan, which city is your hometown? Most Koreans would choose Seoul. But how could Seoul be your hometown when you do not remember anything about it?

If you were born in Seoul but spent your childhood in a foreign country, where then is your hometown? One would think of the foreign place, not Seoul, as one’s hometown.

As for me, I have always thought of Buffalo, New York, where I spent the best years of my life, as my second hometown. Whenever I go there, I feel at home.

However, most Koreans think a foreign city cannot be their hometown, simply because it is foreign. For most Koreans, their hometown means their roots, their ancestry and their family. Perhaps that is why Koreans have a strong urge to return to their hometown. On national holidays, expressways in the country are filled with streams of cars headed for home. Even some individuals who have lived in the States for decades return to spend their golden years in the peace and quiet of their hometowns.

Perhaps I seem like a black sheep to others here.

I was born just before the Korean War and my family had to move around constantly. Furthermore, my father was an English interpreter and he had to move along with the US military bases. As a result, I have lived in almost all the major cities of Korea except for the ones in Gangwon Province. When I was 12, I left home to pursue my studies overseas and have wandered around ever since. I have always been a Bohemian.

Therefore, I do not attach much affection to a specific place. Instead, I have always thought of myself as a cosmopolitan man or a global citizen for whom any place is as comfortable as his hometown. I think of every city, every land as my hometown.

Korea is a small country. Why then is it so important to determine where you were born? When I need to write my hometown on forms, I put down Jeonju, even though it is not the place of my birth.

My great-great-great grandfather, who was vice minister of treasury during the reign of King Youngjo in the 18th century, decided to settle down in Jeonju after retirement. It is the city where my ancestors lived and where both my father and I spent our childhoods, so I feel nostalgic about it.

Before Jeonju, my ancestry dates back to the city of Gimhae in South Gyeongsang Province, where my first ancestors, King Suro and his queen, a princess from India, founded a kingdom called Gaya in 42 AD.

There is also a possibility that King Suro was originally from China or Mongolia because he could have been a descendant of the Hun. There is another theory that my ancestors were from Japan.

According to records of my family history on the internet, I may be a descendant of a Japanese Army general who defected to Korea during a Japanese invasion in the late 16th century. In appreciation of this, King Seonjo supposedly awarded him the name Kim. Which story is true? I do not know. Nor do I care.

History tells us that many great writers were rootless exiles who were not fixed in one place. Among others, Dante, Erich Auerbach and Edward Said come to mind. They wrote great masterpieces during their exile: “Divine Comedy,” “Mimesis” and “Orientalism” to name a few. These great writers illustrate that you do not need a fixed home to achieve success. Auerbach said that if you remain attached to one place, you are like a child. Only when you extend your love to all places on earth, do you become a man. When you extinguish your affection for your hometown or any place for that matter, you become a perfect man.

According to Auerbach, many Koreans are still like children, hopelessly attached only to their hometowns and homeland. We should let our young people soar into the sky and fly all over the world, embracing the world as their home. We should also let our young men and women extinguish their affection for their hometowns and homeland. Then they will become truly great global citizens.

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor emeritus of English at Seoul National University and president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. He can be reached at sukim@snu.ac.kr. -- Ed.