8 DAYS - KOREAN KINDNESS

I am on my way to work. An old lady is collecting cardboard for pocket change. She has on the ajumma (old lady) visor, the ajumma pants and the ajumma shoes. She is 5 foot 2, and that's being generous. I have my head down and I'm thinking that this might be okay - leaving might be okay. She hobbles right on over to me, flashes me a big smile and exclaims, "IPPO DA." (translation: beautiful). I look to the sky. I shake my head. Oh, Korea. You're so good.

I am sick. Can't sleep. Can't eat. And I'm crying in the front of my classroom. I'm not sobbing, but my eyes are filled with tears and occasionally one escapes down my cheek. I try and compose myself and get the energy to yell. Be quiet, please. From the front row a girl says to me, "teacher. fighting!" and flashes me a hopeful smile. Now I actually cry.

I am at the super market. I need kale. Kale season is apparently over. The man knows I want all the kale. I always buy all the kale. So he goes to the back of the store and brings back a ginormous box. "KALE," he says. I am happy.

I am walking home. The lady who runs the corner store I frequent calls me over to her shop. "Sit," she says. She pours me beer. She hands me chopsticks and then she shoves a plate of raw fish, wasabi, lettuce and garlic in front of me. I eat. She says something about my face. And then she tells me I am beautiful. She doesn't let me leave until I'm full.

In all, I know I will see the friends who matter again in this life. We will catch up another time. We will travel together, sleep on one another's couches or meet up in distant lands. I trust that. What I'm going to miss is Korea. It's people. It's culture. It's abundance of kindness. It's cradled me. It shocked my system and then reeled me in like a fish.

I want to see my people at home, but I am not ready to leave. Nope. Not even a little bit. Here I am on the brink of departing, and I am constantly constructing ways in my brain for me to come back. It's wasteful to worry. If I want to return, I will. I'll buy that plane ticket. We're only really ever a plane ticket from anywhere.

Mudeung // NOVEMBER 2011

These men bought our food and then shared their makgeoli with Chelin and I. Following that, they offered to drive us to a neighboring mountain, Wolchulsan, come Spring. In other cultures this might be seen as suggestive - two middle-aged men offering to cart around two young women. Not in Korea. In Korea, this is normal... this is straight kindness.