Day 62
Sneaking sentences of new books between classes, I finish the day.
Day 63
Post-yoga coffee leads to lunch.
"It's delicious soup, I just won't tell you what's in it, okay?"
"Um...okay." I'm pretty sure we're going to eat intestine or liver soup.
We walk into a restaurant near my home and are seated by the owner, who seems quite amused at my presence.
"Smells like liver! Right?"
I sniff the air and the 6 year old inside me screams "OH NO!!!" recalling a chicken liver and okra episode. "Right."
My friend orders and says something to the owner, gestures to her own body, then looks at me. "I was asking him...what part exactly is this soup? Becaauuussseee I don't know how to say it." This is a surprising statement, as her English is better than perhaps anyone else I've met.
"Intenstine?" I ask, "Liver? Small intestine? Gall Bladder? Stomach?..." Each guess earns a tilt of the head, this way or that and something between a smile and a grimace.
"No, that's not it. It's good, anyway. I promise you'll like it."
Broth boils in hot pots as the owner brings our soups to the table. The meat is very dark and it looks as if there are sections of a deep purple sausage amid green onions and spice.
"It's vegetable," she says. Are you kidding me? Why is it so dark? "Yeah, you know, the sweet potato noodles and vegetable stuffed inside the uh...intestines." I'm not sure I totally believe her, but I will tell myself I do. (Some internet searching later adds blood to the recipe.)
"western sausage is intestine stuffed with meat and spices," I reason. When the soup cools a bit, I nearly finish the bowl and she is laughing.
"You love it!" Maybe love is a bit strong, but I do like the soup and it is a meal I can have alone, although I'm not sure I will. It's a possibility.
As I walk home after work, I pass the orange vendor. He smiles and walks me over to the Odeng vendor by the elbow. He gestures toward the skewered fish cakes in their broth and walks away. An old man next to me asks, "Where are you from?" I point to myself and reply "Meegook. America."
"Soju!" he says, and I nod. "Odeng!" he says, and I select a skewer. "Odeng, Japan. OMMAK, Korea," He corrects himself. We sort of chat as the vendor insists I stay close to the warm cart. I watch as he pours batter from a teapot into fish-shaped cast iron molds, adds red-bean paste, and pours more batter on top before closing the lid, flipping the fish over, and rotating to the next empty one.
People are starting to crowd around the vendor and his warm food. He is laughing, filled with happiness from soju and good business. I hear the Hagwon mentioned and a woman looks at me as she says "Oh! My son!" I smile and nod at her.
"It's snowing" I say to the old man beside me. "AHH! Ahh, Chung Noon. First snow. C H U N G - N U U N." "Chung noon," I repeat his words. I nod and finish my soju, allowing a woman with a baby strapped onto her back nearer to the cart. The vendor catches my eye and hands me a red-bean fish as I leave to continue my walk home.
Day 64
Attempt at new technology: denied
Attempt at learning Hangul numbering systems: limited access
There are so many ways to say a number in Hangul it baffles my mind. There are numbers for mathematics, which apply to money. Numbers for counting objects, numbers for counting in general, different numbers for telling time. Perhaps I will understand in time.
work work work
Day 65
Going downtown to buy a new cell phone leads to a walk, which leads to the market, which leads to an herb man, and then to the library, which leads to a library card. Leaving the library, I stop to buy sweet potato for lunch and head to the Hagwon. Students notice my new phone. "Oh! Beautiful!" They open the phone to hear the sounds it will make. "BEEeeautiful! Good phone, Candida, Oh, SKY." They give each other nods of affirmation. Great, I'm glad they like it. I prefer it to the other, but I can't really figure out how to do anything with it. Eventually. Maybe. Maybe not.
Showing posts with label odeng. Show all posts
Showing posts with label odeng. Show all posts
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
From a Distance
Day 46
8 am wake up
9 am train
Wandering around the streets comprising Gimcheon market, I find the first pair of pants that actually fits me. Probably the only pair in this city.
More wanderings bring me eyes full of dried squid stretched on wicker hoops next to fish speared in groups of 7. An old man sleeps inside his storelet in front of a static T.V. An old woman lays on her mat, waiting for a customer to ask about the fabrics she has on display. Vegetables, grains, side dishes, kimchi, goods, appliances, outerwear, inner-wear, it all awaits the buyer in the market.
I smell like stale smoke.
During the day, I build myself up for another night out. Which scarf braids best into my hair? Draw the eyebrow on now or later? Lipstick now, lipstick later?
Among people I don't know so well, I suppose I operate best if there is something to do. A small project, if you will. I meet with New Orleans once again. The city, really, it knows its daughter, no matter how far I go. Once dressed as Frida, I busy myself with face-painting others. The comic nature of the situation is quietly addressed once or twice.
We go out.
Live music! Covers, but still, Live Music! Drinking, smoking, dancing, shouting to be heard, more drinking, more dancing, some climbing, some shouting, some fighting.
We go in.
Day 47
9:30 am wake up
10:41 am train
On my way to an Outlet Mall in Daegu. Perhaps I should've asked for a raincheck. I need a coat though, it's getting cold. Standing room on the train. Should've eaten something. Myeong Hee gives me her seat. Thank you, oh, Thank You.
Moda provides a coat immediately, along with browsing, browsing, browsing (Did I wash off the eyebrow?), browsing (Yes.), browsing. LUNCH! Dukbokki, mandu, something else? I'm sure there was, WHY oh why didn't I eat before??? SHOPPING CENTERRRRRRRRRRRRR. I am a zombie, and poor company, I'm sure. Worn out from the day, we get coffee. Myeong Hee and I walk back to the subway. Ahhh, yes, Moda Outlet, you've done it again. Two satisfied shoppers.
Day 48
The dissipating smoke in the bar's atmosphere took my voice with it.
Attempting to sound dignified at all when one sounds like an 80 yr old ajuma is impossible in front of 8 year olds. This sucks. Immune system down, the Cold wins a major battle and captures my voice and most of my energy.
On the way work, I stop to buy some mandarin oranges. The vendor is a relatively large Korean man. "Chingu, Matt?"
"Yes! Me, Matt, Friends!" Is this the farmer I heard about? He points toward Prime. "Matt teacher?"
"Um...no, no. Changee. I am Meegook, Matt Meegook, Anglea Meegook, chingu chingu. All Iowa. Matt go, Angela go, only me."
"AHH..okay, okay. Martin?"
"Ehhh...Martin...yes, Martin sem. Here."
"Ahh, okay okay," he motions for me to go, then grabs my hand for a firm handshake. He points to himself, "Opa, okay? Opa."
Work. Sleep.
Day 49
I find Maangchi and her online Korean cooking guide. This takes up my day until work. On the way, Opa is at the Odeng vendor across the street.
"Ahh!! Anneyong Candida! Here, odeng!"
"uhhh...ahhh..." I prance around like I have to go to the bathroom and point to my wrist, as if I wear a watch. He nods and indicates that he understands, but he won't take no for an answer.
"Odeng," he commands. "Hana, one." He tells his friend I am an American, goes to the truck's cab and brings back two persimmons to put in my bag. I finish the odeng and he shoos me away.
Work. Sleep.
Before bed, I chat with a friend who is on his way to vote. In the morning, 8 hours of day will have passed and the United States will be 8 hours closer to tallying the votes.
Day 50
My voice has returned, the election results are coming in.
Please, oh, PLEASE, do not let McCain win. Obamaobamaobama, the name is running through my head like a mantra. I recall my whereabouts in 2004, huddled around a radio with friends on the Mississippi River.
2008 has me seated in front of my computer alone, running back and forth from the kitchen to the living room of my apartment in South Korea. Streaming video from MSNBC and DemocracyNOW keeps me on top of the latest happenings including McCain's concession speech, Obama's victory speech. The crowds are cheering on a portion of my computer screen. I see New York City and Chicago, I hear about the streets of West Philadelphia, I celebrate vicariously. I am thrilled at the turnout, elated that Barak Obama is the President Elect, hopeful for the future of the country...and I express these sentiments over the computer to a friend who is also online. 4 years brings me into a very different reality.
8 am wake up
9 am train
Wandering around the streets comprising Gimcheon market, I find the first pair of pants that actually fits me. Probably the only pair in this city.
More wanderings bring me eyes full of dried squid stretched on wicker hoops next to fish speared in groups of 7. An old man sleeps inside his storelet in front of a static T.V. An old woman lays on her mat, waiting for a customer to ask about the fabrics she has on display. Vegetables, grains, side dishes, kimchi, goods, appliances, outerwear, inner-wear, it all awaits the buyer in the market.
I smell like stale smoke.
During the day, I build myself up for another night out. Which scarf braids best into my hair? Draw the eyebrow on now or later? Lipstick now, lipstick later?
Among people I don't know so well, I suppose I operate best if there is something to do. A small project, if you will. I meet with New Orleans once again. The city, really, it knows its daughter, no matter how far I go. Once dressed as Frida, I busy myself with face-painting others. The comic nature of the situation is quietly addressed once or twice.
We go out.
Live music! Covers, but still, Live Music! Drinking, smoking, dancing, shouting to be heard, more drinking, more dancing, some climbing, some shouting, some fighting.
We go in.
Day 47
9:30 am wake up
10:41 am train
On my way to an Outlet Mall in Daegu. Perhaps I should've asked for a raincheck. I need a coat though, it's getting cold. Standing room on the train. Should've eaten something. Myeong Hee gives me her seat. Thank you, oh, Thank You.
Moda provides a coat immediately, along with browsing, browsing, browsing (Did I wash off the eyebrow?), browsing (Yes.), browsing. LUNCH! Dukbokki, mandu, something else? I'm sure there was, WHY oh why didn't I eat before??? SHOPPING CENTERRRRRRRRRRRRR. I am a zombie, and poor company, I'm sure. Worn out from the day, we get coffee. Myeong Hee and I walk back to the subway. Ahhh, yes, Moda Outlet, you've done it again. Two satisfied shoppers.
Day 48
The dissipating smoke in the bar's atmosphere took my voice with it.
Attempting to sound dignified at all when one sounds like an 80 yr old ajuma is impossible in front of 8 year olds. This sucks. Immune system down, the Cold wins a major battle and captures my voice and most of my energy.
On the way work, I stop to buy some mandarin oranges. The vendor is a relatively large Korean man. "Chingu, Matt?"
"Yes! Me, Matt, Friends!" Is this the farmer I heard about? He points toward Prime. "Matt teacher?"
"Um...no, no. Changee. I am Meegook, Matt Meegook, Anglea Meegook, chingu chingu. All Iowa. Matt go, Angela go, only me."
"AHH..okay, okay. Martin?"
"Ehhh...Martin...yes, Martin sem. Here."
"Ahh, okay okay," he motions for me to go, then grabs my hand for a firm handshake. He points to himself, "Opa, okay? Opa."
Work. Sleep.
Day 49
I find Maangchi and her online Korean cooking guide. This takes up my day until work. On the way, Opa is at the Odeng vendor across the street.
"Ahh!! Anneyong Candida! Here, odeng!"
"uhhh...ahhh..." I prance around like I have to go to the bathroom and point to my wrist, as if I wear a watch. He nods and indicates that he understands, but he won't take no for an answer.
"Odeng," he commands. "Hana, one." He tells his friend I am an American, goes to the truck's cab and brings back two persimmons to put in my bag. I finish the odeng and he shoos me away.
Work. Sleep.
Before bed, I chat with a friend who is on his way to vote. In the morning, 8 hours of day will have passed and the United States will be 8 hours closer to tallying the votes.
Day 50
My voice has returned, the election results are coming in.
Please, oh, PLEASE, do not let McCain win. Obamaobamaobama, the name is running through my head like a mantra. I recall my whereabouts in 2004, huddled around a radio with friends on the Mississippi River.
2008 has me seated in front of my computer alone, running back and forth from the kitchen to the living room of my apartment in South Korea. Streaming video from MSNBC and DemocracyNOW keeps me on top of the latest happenings including McCain's concession speech, Obama's victory speech. The crowds are cheering on a portion of my computer screen. I see New York City and Chicago, I hear about the streets of West Philadelphia, I celebrate vicariously. I am thrilled at the turnout, elated that Barak Obama is the President Elect, hopeful for the future of the country...and I express these sentiments over the computer to a friend who is also online. 4 years brings me into a very different reality.
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