Snacks
Originally uploaded by annamatic3000.
On Saturday afternoon, the doorbell rang. At first I thought it might be someone with some literature from one of the nearby churches. No matter -- usually I just tell them I don't speak Korean and they go away (not being fluent in the local language comes in handy sometimes).
Instead, it was 3 high school boys toting backpacks, a tape measure, a roll of drafting paper and a camera. After some faulty attempts at communication, I called Gavin at the office and he spoke to them. It turned out that they had an assignment at school about traditional Korean houses (하녹) and wanted to know if they could take some measurements and photos of the rooms in our house.
It occurred to me that this was something that would never happen in New York, much less anywhere else in the States. I mean, no teacher in his or her right mind would send kids knocking on strangers' doors. What if someone was abducted by a maniac? Plus a lot of Americans would consider it an invasion of privacy -- a stranger taking photos of your things, measuring your doorframes, checking out your bathroom.
Anyway, since I'm a cynical New Yorker, the first thing I thought was, "Oh. What if they're casing the joint for a burglary?"
Then, having lived in Seoul for 2 years, I thought, "But they're just high school kids. And they seem so well-mannered and sweet. I'll let them in."
They were really diligent about the project. If this were me 15 years ago, I'm sure I would have fudged the numbers a bit and gotten the heck out of there, but these kids were so serious and detail oriented. One guy measured things, the other kid drew a floor plan to-scale on a roll of drafting paper, and the third boy photographed architectural details. I really should have thought to take some photos of them too, but I forgot, and I guess that might have been awkward. I started to wish I had something in the fridge to give them. But all we had was soju and beer, which I was sure -- despite this being Korea -- would be inappropriate. I felt awful about that. I'm sure I should have given them some milk and cookies, that being the traditional American way!
I bemoaned the lack of proper food in our house to serve guests while I worked on a website design. Meanwhile they puttered around from room to room measuring, double-checking numbers and drawing. An hour flew by before I realized they were finally getting ready to leave. The spokesboy of the three came forward, searched his brain for some English phrases, then gave up and simply said, "Ah... Thank you!" before presenting me with a black plastic bag. Inside the bag were snacks! The very kind of snacks that I had been thinking I should be giving them! A box of chocolate chip cookies, some sesame seed crackers and a bottle of tea. Before I could thank them, they were bowing their way out and disappeared down the alleyway.
When I see kids here in Korea -- even high school kids -- I always think they're younger than they really are. I know they're under a tremendous amount of stress to get high grades and into good colleges, but still there's something that seems sweet and naive about them, like they don't yet know about the big bad world or the seedier sides of human nature. Even if they do, they don't seem to carry themselves with that knowing air (part arrogant, part cynical) that American teenagers learn to affect so early on. I mean, I could be completely wrong -- I'm not privy to their private conversations -- maybe they present themselves completely differently amongst their peers...
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In other news,
It's getting really hot these days, and it's only going to get hotter... Lately I have been seeing these mosquitos that are seriously like the size of Buicks. I mean, they're enormous -- like a half-inch long (ok, not as big as a Buick) -- and scary. The good thing is that they move slower and are easier to spot than normal mosquitos, so once I see 'em... they're as good as dead. Splat!
I have started swimming again at a nearby pool, but normally I don't swim more than 40 laps. The reason is because I'm scared. I'm scared of the ajummas. During the daytime, the only other swimmers are middle-aged housewives -- the notorious ajummas. Sometimes they swim, but most of the time they congregate in one end of the pool chattering away, bouncing up and down and making waves with their arms (I believe that they probably think this is a form of exercise). But when they do swim, look out! They barrel down the lane with all the subtlety of a steamroller and god help you if you get in the way...! I have to become more of a defensive swimmer, but lately when the pool gets too crowded, I just get out. I'm such a wimp -- when are MY ajumma characteristics going to kick in?
