YANGSAN DONG

I suppose it's been a year and I haven't even mentioned where I sleep at night.

I live in the northern part of the city. It's way up there; a good 50 minutes from downtown by bus. A furnished apartment is provided as part of my job, and I got lucky. My apartment is small and nice. There's an elevator in my building. It's clean, quiet and I am more than convinced I got set up with the most comfortable bed in Korea.

I'd love to tell you I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand, a sentiment one should feel comfortable relaying after having lived in a place for a year. But I don't. Because I live so far, I'm constantly hopping on buses. I often leave on Friday nights and don't return until Sunday evenings. During the week, I walk to work and then home again.

What I know of this hood is it's people. The clerks at the mart know me. They follow me around, waiting to bag and weigh my vegetables. They ring up my coffee before I even order. They laugh at me while I stumble through in Korean. They come out of their restaurants to wave. They buy me a box of TWELVE donuts. They give me five cucumbers when I only paid for four.


YANG SAN DONG RESERVOIR, AND THE REALITY WHICH IS MY TEENSY, TINY APARTMENT.

These four story "villas" line my street. I live in one.