23 October 2012
Oh my goodness!! It sure has been a long time since I wrote anything on here. Sorry about that, say I to the people who asked me to compose this blog. To others, I say, you're welcome. Sooo....I don't even know where to begin. So much has happened the last few weeks. I'm afraid this may not be the most clever, witty entry in the world, but hopefully it will kickstart my blog-writing endeavor once again. Consider yourselves warned.
I guess I'll start where I left off. About three weeks ago, the Hubby and I went into the larger city near ours to see a movie at Yawoori, the cinema there. They actually show English movies, albeit with Korean subtitles, but it is really nice to be able to pretend I am at home at the movie theatre for a couple of hours. We saw Taken 2, which was OK, but not nearly as awesome as the first one. No sarcasm intended here. I really did like the first Taken movie. After we left the theatre to take the bus, we realized that we had forgotten that there was a big International Dance Festival in the city that weekend. We stepped out of the shopping mall that houses the movie theatre and were greeted by hoards of people lining the main thoroughfare, waiting for the parade to pass by (literally, in this case). We had not intended to watch said parade, but realized quickly that we would most likely see much of it as we trudged down the street, trying to locate the alternative bus route that would get us back to our apartment in the neighboring town since the normal route was blocked off due to the festivities. As we walked, we saw dance troupes from all over the world, and when I say all over the world, I mean the world that rarely registers on the American radar: little known eastern European countries that gained independence with the fall of the Soviet Union in addition to small nations near India, Malaysia, and Thailand. Upon realizing that I didn't even recognize that 75% of these countries existed, I was a bit ashamed of my lack of geographical awareness. Each troupe performed dances native to their homeland, and some even threw in a nod to the Gangnam Style phenomenon that seems to be sweeping the globe at the moment, much to the delight of their Korean audience, who proceeded to dance with them on the street. After we finally reached the bus stop at the end of the parade route, I went into a Daiso (the equivalent of the Dollar Store in the States) to browse while we waited for the bus to (hopefully) show up (eventually. we hoped.).
When I came out of the store I found the Hubby quietly chuckling to himself. When I asked him what he found so amusing (I was getting slightly cranky waiting for this supposed "bus"), he said that while I was in the store, this older Korean gentleman came up to him and asked him where he was from. Well, it was more like, "You where from? You Russian?" (there is a weird obsession here with people being Russian), to which the Hubby replied that he was from America and pointed to the baseball cap the old man was wearing, which had an American flag (or something referencing America) on it. The old man smiled, a bit confused because, the Hubby surmised, he didn't realize and/or remember what was on his cap. Then the old man laughed, giving the thumbs up sign, and said that he really liked America. America was good. The old man, like most Korean men, was fairly short and looked up and down my husband's tall, slim figure and pointed. "Tall!" he said, with an appraising nod. The Hubby smiled and nodded (he gets this a lot). This old, smiling Korean man then gave my sweet, unsuspecting husband a couple of firm smacks on the behind and walked a way, chuckling to himself all the while. The Hubby, in shock, watched him go sit on a nearby bench to wait for the bus, take out a pocket knife and an apple, and proceed to carefully rotate the fruit under the knife, deftly stripping away its waxy outer layer in one long peel. He then cut the apple into wedges with care and motioned for the Hubby to move closer so as to share his apple with his new American friend. The Hubby did so, and they waited together, eating a shared apple in silent camaraderie until the old man's bus (not our bus *sigh*) finally appeared and he collected his things to go. All this happened, unfortunately, while I was browsing through aisles of inexpensive knick-knacks. Thus, I must hope I do the story justice, only telling it secondhand.
The next day, the kids in the Hubby's class were doing their midterm interviews with him. They had been required to choose three things from a list to do while they were at home over the weekend, which they would then discuss in their interviews. One kid chose to eat a new food he had never tried before and describe the experience. He told the Hubby that his family just gave him the food to eat, not telling him what it was. He thought the texture was strange, but it tasted OK. Eventually, and to his horror apparently, his family told him he had been eating cow tongue. The poor kid grimaced at this point in the interview and complained, "Ugh, teacher. Was my first kiss."
Hopefully I will get better about writing on here. Lord knows there's definitely enough material. I should probably treat it like a regimen or something. Unfortunately, I've never been one to stick with journals. More to come. Stay tuned.
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