One week down already. It seems so much longer than that! People keep asking me, “Don’t you miss your wife?” It’s hard to answer that question without sighing. Being here has really reinforced for me how much I rely on Patti to always be there, to comfort me, to give me a push when I need it, to laugh at my stupid jokes. We email one another, usually several times a day, and have installed Skype on our computers so that we can actually talk—although with the time difference, a chat has to be carefully scheduled. We even bought web cams so we can look at each other when we converse. (Gosh, that’s one application of technology that actually makes our lives better!) But it’s still not the same as being together. I knew it would be hard, but I don’t think I really anticipated what it would mean hour by hour, day by day. I’m counting the days till she comes for a visit. I know that’s being in the future, not in the present, and therefore not Zen-like, but tough.
On Wednesday I had lunch with Mr. Kang Yeon-Yong and Mrs. Kim Ae-Lan of the International Affairs and Education Office. We went to a traditional Korean restaurant very near my apartment. Traditional means sitting on the floor, using chopsticks to try to pick up long, slippery noodles out of a huge bowl of bright red broth and transport them to my mouth without dropping them or dripping into my lap. I have noticed that while many restaurants have boxes of small paper napkins (usually about six inches square) on the table, these do not go in the lap. Thus, pants, especially suit pants, as well as shirts, ties, and coats, go unprotected. In order to minimize the potential for serious damage to my wardrobe (which is pretty limited to begin with), I scrunched as close to the table as I could, twisting my old, stiff legs into pretzels. I also finally cheated, transferring gobs of noodles first into a small side bowl, then holding this bowl close under my chin and then using the chopsticks to simply lift the noodles up into my mouth. I have read that this is very un-Korean, but I noticed that my host, Mr. Kang, began to do the
same. I’m not sure whether that was because he normally eats that way, or if it was just to commit the same transgression as me in order to alleviate some of my shame. So much culture, so little time! After lunch it took me about ten minutes to stand up again and a half an hour to shuffle along on throbbing legs the two blocks to City Hall. Later we all ate a huge box of assorted rice-cakes that had been sent as a gift by a school.
Thursday morning I somehow convinced my landlady to come to my apartment to get my stove and microwave work. She found a circuit that needed resetting and also kindly reset the thermostat so that it will be a comfortable 80 degrees at all times. I’ll have to figure out how to turn that back down. Anyway, it will be nice to be able to cook some noodles and vegetables on the stove, rather than relying on my hot pot.
I also went into the office for a few hours, even though it was one of my days off, because I had to meet with Mr. Cho and Mrs. Kim and Miss Park to discuss a brochure that we are working on. While I was there, I decided to have lunch in the City Hall Cafeteria. It’s quite the set-up. The cafeteria is a huge room with rows and rows of tables and chairs. There are basically two menu choices (written in Korean, obviously) so you get in line for whichever choice you prefer: line A is along the north side of the room, line B along the south side. When you get to the food, you pick up a tray with various concavities and that’s where you put your food—a ladle of rice, a couple of different kinds of kimchi, some teokbokki noodles, a strange meat patty if you are not a vegetarian. You grab the traditional long-handled metal spoon and metal chopsticks, they hand you a bowl of soup, and you go find a place to sit. The best part is that payment (3,000 Won, about $2.30) is made by tapping a smart card (a credit card with an RFID chip) against a card reader and then taking the printed receipt that pops out so it can be dropped in the box by the soup. As the foreigner, I have to pay cash to get my receipt.
Friday it snowed so I went to the little espresso shop on the 20th floor of City Hall, bought a latte (1,000 Won—no wonder Starbucks is having problems) and read my favorite book, The Confidence Man: His Masquerade, by Herman Melville. It seems so appropriate for these chaotic times. I also went to the discount store and bought a real pillow to substitute for the traditional Korean pillow that my landlady had provided which I am sure is very comfortable once you get used to it but which feels to me like a large brick wrapped in a very thin towel.
On Wednesday I had lunch with Mr. Kang Yeon-Yong and Mrs. Kim Ae-Lan of the International Affairs and Education Office. We went to a traditional Korean restaurant very near my apartment. Traditional means sitting on the floor, using chopsticks to try to pick up long, slippery noodles out of a huge bowl of bright red broth and transport them to my mouth without dropping them or dripping into my lap. I have noticed that while many restaurants have boxes of small paper napkins (usually about six inches square) on the table, these do not go in the lap. Thus, pants, especially suit pants, as well as shirts, ties, and coats, go unprotected. In order to minimize the potential for serious damage to my wardrobe (which is pretty limited to begin with), I scrunched as close to the table as I could, twisting my old, stiff legs into pretzels. I also finally cheated, transferring gobs of noodles first into a small side bowl, then holding this bowl close under my chin and then using the chopsticks to simply lift the noodles up into my mouth. I have read that this is very un-Korean, but I noticed that my host, Mr. Kang, began to do the
same. I’m not sure whether that was because he normally eats that way, or if it was just to commit the same transgression as me in order to alleviate some of my shame. So much culture, so little time! After lunch it took me about ten minutes to stand up again and a half an hour to shuffle along on throbbing legs the two blocks to City Hall. Later we all ate a huge box of assorted rice-cakes that had been sent as a gift by a school. Thursday morning I somehow convinced my landlady to come to my apartment to get my stove and microwave work. She found a circuit that needed resetting and also kindly reset the thermostat so that it will be a comfortable 80 degrees at all times. I’ll have to figure out how to turn that back down. Anyway, it will be nice to be able to cook some noodles and vegetables on the stove, rather than relying on my hot pot.
I also went into the office for a few hours, even though it was one of my days off, because I had to meet with Mr. Cho and Mrs. Kim and Miss Park to discuss a brochure that we are working on. While I was there, I decided to have lunch in the City Hall Cafeteria. It’s quite the set-up. The cafeteria is a huge room with rows and rows of tables and chairs. There are basically two menu choices (written in Korean, obviously) so you get in line for whichever choice you prefer: line A is along the north side of the room, line B along the south side. When you get to the food, you pick up a tray with various concavities and that’s where you put your food—a ladle of rice, a couple of different kinds of kimchi, some teokbokki noodles, a strange meat patty if you are not a vegetarian. You grab the traditional long-handled metal spoon and metal chopsticks, they hand you a bowl of soup, and you go find a place to sit. The best part is that payment (3,000 Won, about $2.30) is made by tapping a smart card (a credit card with an RFID chip) against a card reader and then taking the printed receipt that pops out so it can be dropped in the box by the soup. As the foreigner, I have to pay cash to get my receipt.
Friday it snowed so I went to the little espresso shop on the 20th floor of City Hall, bought a latte (1,000 Won—no wonder Starbucks is having problems) and read my favorite book, The Confidence Man: His Masquerade, by Herman Melville. It seems so appropriate for these chaotic times. I also went to the discount store and bought a real pillow to substitute for the traditional Korean pillow that my landlady had provided which I am sure is very comfortable once you get used to it but which feels to me like a large brick wrapped in a very thin towel.
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