When I read my friend Aubrey's blog post, Friendly Soju Bottles, I felt an immediate need to write a post of my own, Soju and Me. This was in part because just a few days previously I had posed for a picture with a friendly soju bottle, and partly because I disagreed with her about the gender of soju. Aubrey wrote a rather long comment on my post, which you may have missed. And so I offer to you her comment, together with my responses.
I love that you responded like that to my blog! But I also disagree. Firstly, I did get a picture with the soju bottle (we just have to figure out how to get it off her phone); he made Jen and I give him kisses on his cheeks.
Ah, yes. The picture. I am still waiting to see the picture, not that I have any doubt that this encounter happened.
Note the use of "he." Because soju is a he.
(1) The smell is of paint thinner or some sort of industrial strength solvent. It's so primal and manly, like a guy who's out in his garage.
I would like to apologize to all of our female readers out there who are capable of fixing cars and doing other "manly" things. True, men are more likely to be engaged in this sort of activity, but it is hardly definitive of "male". I'm not sure how I feel about the link between "primal" and "manly", but I'll leave that alone for now.
(2) Soju strong arms itself into a relationship, showing up at every meal and in every sort of juice. He's pushy. Not in a whiny sort of way, but rather one that assumes there's already a depth of relationship and he's entitled to you.
Once again, I would like to apologize to our female readers who happen to not be whiny. I am sure that Aubrey did not intend to imply that "whiny" is strictly a female characteristic. I have found that my male students are every bit as likely to whine as my female students. And it is not my experience that "pushy" is a strictly female trait, for that matter.
I also disagree with the characterization of soju strong arming itself into relationships (which is, incidentally, not an exclusively male behavior). If you go to an establishment in which soju is available, you will know. There are posters, perhaps a calendar. The menu may have pictures of a soju bottle, for our illiterate friends. Attractive packaging. Does that sound more male or female? But it is not automatically served anywhere. Not even in places that specialize in soju and the foods that are served with it. You still have to ask for it.
It is not water. If you want water, all you have to do is ask. If you want soju, you must be willing to pay the price. Perhaps I am taking my turn at playing the stereotype card, but this sounds female to me.
(3) All Korean men will put their arms around each other. But they don't kiss, at least not in public. Our soju bottle demanded kisses from the ladies. Sorry Rob, but soju is definitely male.
You don't see men and women kissing in public, either (here in Korea, that is). Does that mean that they don't? (That's some kind of odd logic pretzel there, isn't it?) And just to clarify, was it a kiss on the cheek, or a kiss on the lips? Because cheek kissing man-to-man and woman-to-woman is very continental. Perhaps soju is going for the international flavor?
OK, I know that I'm grasping at straws on this point, but I refuse to give up the battle. The fact is, you didn't mention the kiss in your original blog post, so I'm kind of winging it. I did not attempt to kiss my soju bottle, and neither did she attempt to kiss me. I just assumed that she noticed my wedding ring.
I think that your misconception comes in part from the association soju has with its bottle. Like most bottles, it is somewhat... longer than it is wide. However, soju, however closely associated with the bottles it comes in, simply is not the bottle it comes in. And so, with tongue firmly in cheek, I take my last shot, fully aware that Horyon may cause me physical harm after reading this:
Soju is served in short glasses. Beer is served in tall glasses.
Korean women are generally short. Korean men are generally tall (compared to their women).
Here are some more things to consider:
1. Anthropomorphizing is foolish. Why do we let soju goad us on like this?
2. My arguments are more poetic than yours.
3. Makeup. Look at the soju picture in my post. Are those eyebrows the untamed growth of the male, or the finely sculpted, mostly painted on decoration of the female?
5. Fashion. Look at the shoes on that soju bottles. Granted, in American culture they would indicate a clown, but in Korea they are definitely girly shoes.
However, in the end none of these factors matter as much as this:
6. Perhaps soju can be all things to all people, invalidating both of our arguments. Is it possible that soju is the RuPaul of Korean alcoholic beverages?
Is it possible that I need more sleep?
Tune in next week for the answers to these, and other questions. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.
Peace,
Rob
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Thursday, December 14, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Some Interesting Web Sites
I don't know about you, but I enjoy the Internet from time to time. There is some pretty fun stuff out there, but sometimes it can get to be too much. I was pretty relieved to find a link to
the cure for information overload.. Had to dig a bit for it, but it was well worth it. I was amused with the link to it from the Jedi Librarian, so I had to include that, too.
I also like music. One blog I was looking at the other day steered me towards The Music Genome Project. The link I've given here is actually the practical result of that project, a very fine-tuned internet radio station. You tell it songs you like, and it plays other songs that are like it. Sounds like some other internet radio stations, especially Yahoo's. At Yahoo Music you can give a zero to five star rating for artist, song and album. I'm not sure how they connect things, but they suggest some pretty good stuff. Unfortunately, they have to make money, so they also suggest crap, sometimes things that made me cringe. That's fine from time to time if you like to have your horizons expanded in odd directions. I figure that if ten songs are suggested to me out of the blue and I don't like nine of them, number ten might be a serious winner.
But sometimes I don't want those kind of odds. Plus Yahoo music plays ads between some songs. Annoying ads. You can get rid of them if you pay for it, but I am cheap.
Pandora is different. For starters, it's free. You have to register, but so far I haven't been spammed or anything. They say on the site that eventually the free version will have ads, but it doesn't have them yet. You can set up 100 different stations if you like, though I only have two so far. My computer at work is too lame to play this, but it tended to get logjammed on the Yahoo Music, too.
Anyway, I highly recommend giving it a shot if you've got a full-time internet connection, you like music, and you love the idea of categorizing songs the same way biologists categorize life. These people are more serious about their music than I am, and I enjoy that sort of obsessiveness from time to time.
And at this time of year it's a good way to pipe in some Christmas music. I've got a station programed with a wide variety of artists. I've labeled it "Christmas with Rob". You can't go to it yourself, but I can email you a link to it, if you're interested. Just send me an email, and I will do so.
Next link: On the right side of this page I have a link to Natalie D. I really enjoy her little drawings, though some of them have naughty words (Belgium!), and a few of them are sort of out of my reach, like the Far Side used to be. She also has a site that she does with her husband called Married to the Sea. (The site is Married to the Sea. Her husband is called Drew. Just in case anyone needed clarification there.) Drew also has his own website with an amusing comic, but not amusing enough for me to link to here. But this MttS is something else. They take very old illustrations and put their own captions with them. Once again, the language gets pretty naughty in about half the strips, so don't just buzz over there and show it to your kids.
The internet is also an awesome place to get a new hobby. Roblogging is pretty cool I guess, but I've got my eyes on a better prize, Destroying the Earth. If you are like me, and think it's about time this planet got what's coming for it, you may want to check out this site. It is actually a serious (well, scientifically rigorous anyway) forum on methods for doing away with this planet we call home. Not destroying humanity (too easy!) or wiping out all life on Earth (piece of cake!), but actually doing away with the planet itself. If this sounds like not such a big deal to you, I suggest you take a look at this site, because whoever actually manages the job has some serious planning to do. And this is the place to start.
For what it's worth, if you click the link at the top of his page, you will find other things of interest. His fiction is not too bad, and his games are quite interesting. I haven't looked at everything there, but it's worth spending a bit of time.
For word processing, it is hard to beat OpenOffice.org. It can work with all of Microsoft Office's documents, as well as many others. It gives me great joy to use it for two reasons:
#1 It is free. No money needed. Download and use. Register if you like, but you don't need to. Send a donation if you like, but there is no pressure to do so. It is free, free, free. And unlike many free things, you get much more than you pay for. Probably because of #2.
#2 It is not shoveling money towards Microsoft. In fact, it is openly opposing the monopolistic policies of Microsoft. If you use computer documents at all, you are either aware of how widespread MSOffice is, or unaware of it because you just assume that there is nothing else out there. MS makes it difficult for other programs to access documents created by their software.
It's a big issue in some circles, but to me the two reasons listed above are as deep into it as I need to get. At their website you can find links to lots more if you want to read up on it.
And last, I would like to leave you with something that makes all the other links on this post look incredibly intelligent: Stupid.com has the most entertaining selection of stuff that you could hope for. Looking for a keychain to tell you exactly how much time President Bush has left in office (assuming no coup)? Want a wall calendar featuring pictures of dog poop? Wacky candy in many odd shapes and flavors? A 1950's style phone handset that plugs into your cell phone? How about a variety of animals that poop candy? I tell you, if this site doesn't have it, it isn't stupid enough for your discerning tastes.
And there are some of my web interests.
Peace,
Rob
the cure for information overload.. Had to dig a bit for it, but it was well worth it. I was amused with the link to it from the Jedi Librarian, so I had to include that, too.
I also like music. One blog I was looking at the other day steered me towards The Music Genome Project. The link I've given here is actually the practical result of that project, a very fine-tuned internet radio station. You tell it songs you like, and it plays other songs that are like it. Sounds like some other internet radio stations, especially Yahoo's. At Yahoo Music you can give a zero to five star rating for artist, song and album. I'm not sure how they connect things, but they suggest some pretty good stuff. Unfortunately, they have to make money, so they also suggest crap, sometimes things that made me cringe. That's fine from time to time if you like to have your horizons expanded in odd directions. I figure that if ten songs are suggested to me out of the blue and I don't like nine of them, number ten might be a serious winner.
But sometimes I don't want those kind of odds. Plus Yahoo music plays ads between some songs. Annoying ads. You can get rid of them if you pay for it, but I am cheap.
Pandora is different. For starters, it's free. You have to register, but so far I haven't been spammed or anything. They say on the site that eventually the free version will have ads, but it doesn't have them yet. You can set up 100 different stations if you like, though I only have two so far. My computer at work is too lame to play this, but it tended to get logjammed on the Yahoo Music, too.
Anyway, I highly recommend giving it a shot if you've got a full-time internet connection, you like music, and you love the idea of categorizing songs the same way biologists categorize life. These people are more serious about their music than I am, and I enjoy that sort of obsessiveness from time to time.
And at this time of year it's a good way to pipe in some Christmas music. I've got a station programed with a wide variety of artists. I've labeled it "Christmas with Rob". You can't go to it yourself, but I can email you a link to it, if you're interested. Just send me an email, and I will do so.
Next link: On the right side of this page I have a link to Natalie D. I really enjoy her little drawings, though some of them have naughty words (Belgium!), and a few of them are sort of out of my reach, like the Far Side used to be. She also has a site that she does with her husband called Married to the Sea. (The site is Married to the Sea. Her husband is called Drew. Just in case anyone needed clarification there.) Drew also has his own website with an amusing comic, but not amusing enough for me to link to here. But this MttS is something else. They take very old illustrations and put their own captions with them. Once again, the language gets pretty naughty in about half the strips, so don't just buzz over there and show it to your kids.
The internet is also an awesome place to get a new hobby. Roblogging is pretty cool I guess, but I've got my eyes on a better prize, Destroying the Earth. If you are like me, and think it's about time this planet got what's coming for it, you may want to check out this site. It is actually a serious (well, scientifically rigorous anyway) forum on methods for doing away with this planet we call home. Not destroying humanity (too easy!) or wiping out all life on Earth (piece of cake!), but actually doing away with the planet itself. If this sounds like not such a big deal to you, I suggest you take a look at this site, because whoever actually manages the job has some serious planning to do. And this is the place to start.
For what it's worth, if you click the link at the top of his page, you will find other things of interest. His fiction is not too bad, and his games are quite interesting. I haven't looked at everything there, but it's worth spending a bit of time.
For word processing, it is hard to beat OpenOffice.org. It can work with all of Microsoft Office's documents, as well as many others. It gives me great joy to use it for two reasons:
#1 It is free. No money needed. Download and use. Register if you like, but you don't need to. Send a donation if you like, but there is no pressure to do so. It is free, free, free. And unlike many free things, you get much more than you pay for. Probably because of #2.
#2 It is not shoveling money towards Microsoft. In fact, it is openly opposing the monopolistic policies of Microsoft. If you use computer documents at all, you are either aware of how widespread MSOffice is, or unaware of it because you just assume that there is nothing else out there. MS makes it difficult for other programs to access documents created by their software.
It's a big issue in some circles, but to me the two reasons listed above are as deep into it as I need to get. At their website you can find links to lots more if you want to read up on it.
And last, I would like to leave you with something that makes all the other links on this post look incredibly intelligent: Stupid.com has the most entertaining selection of stuff that you could hope for. Looking for a keychain to tell you exactly how much time President Bush has left in office (assuming no coup)? Want a wall calendar featuring pictures of dog poop? Wacky candy in many odd shapes and flavors? A 1950's style phone handset that plugs into your cell phone? How about a variety of animals that poop candy? I tell you, if this site doesn't have it, it isn't stupid enough for your discerning tastes.
And there are some of my web interests.
Peace,
Rob
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Soju and Me
I have to say, this is in direct response to Aubrey's post.
I didn't just drink the free sample and take the free pen, I put my arm around the soju and embraced her. Aubrey speculated that the giant soju bottle was male. She didn't articulate any specific reasons, though I'm sure there are those who would speculate.
I, however, believe that soju is a woman, for the following reasons:
She makes you feel warm when she comes into your life. Warm and light-headed. She will often cause you to make decisions that your friends do not understand. You laugh and cry more easily, and it often feels like you are walking a few inches or feet above the pavement. Sometimes it bounces quickly between inches and feet.
And yes, she will make you hurt if you are not careful. Do not put too much of yourself into her (or vice versa), or she will leave you suddenly, without warning. Perhaps taking with her your dignity, strength and previous meal.
And so, Aubrey, I contend that soju is female, though definitely not a lady.
Peace,
Rob
p.s. I hardly even noticed the girls in half-skirts that accompanied the soju. Not even hardly at all.
I didn't just drink the free sample and take the free pen, I put my arm around the soju and embraced her. Aubrey speculated that the giant soju bottle was male. She didn't articulate any specific reasons, though I'm sure there are those who would speculate.I, however, believe that soju is a woman, for the following reasons:
She makes you feel warm when she comes into your life. Warm and light-headed. She will often cause you to make decisions that your friends do not understand. You laugh and cry more easily, and it often feels like you are walking a few inches or feet above the pavement. Sometimes it bounces quickly between inches and feet.
And yes, she will make you hurt if you are not careful. Do not put too much of yourself into her (or vice versa), or she will leave you suddenly, without warning. Perhaps taking with her your dignity, strength and previous meal.
And so, Aubrey, I contend that soju is female, though definitely not a lady.
Peace,
Rob
p.s. I hardly even noticed the girls in half-skirts that accompanied the soju. Not even hardly at all.
The Gravy of the Missing Giblets
It's Friday. Five days since we returned, and I am just now recouping the energy required to write about our trip to Taegu. We drove to Taegu to visit our friends, Jibraun and Sujin. Horyon and Sujin have been friends since high school. J. (his nickname of choice) and Sujin got married about a month after Horyon and I, and they asked us to be the M.C.s at their wedding. J. and I got along very well,
which made it a disappointment that they moved to the States immediately after their wedding. After staying long enough to have a couple of kids, J. Jr. and Maya, they were posted in Taegu, Korea. They visit Pusan from time to time, as Sujin's family still lives here, but we don't see them often. Family visits are often like that. We visited them in Taegu once. We're not absolutely sure, but Maxine may have been conceived there. In fact, we considered naming her in the "Paris Hilton" tradition, but decided that "Taegu Love Motel" would be a bit of an unwieldy name.
(Sorry, but that's one of those stories that I am physically unable to resist telling whenever I am asked about Maxine's name, and it's about time it got on the Roblog.)
We really enjoyed that visit. J. cooked turkey legs, collard greens and stuffing for us, Maya was just a tiny baby, and we took the train to get there and move on. This time we drove. It was our first time to drive outside of Pusan. We had planned to leave at 10 a.m., so I consider it a smashing success that we were out the door before 11.
We had packed enough clothes for overnight, including some extra Maxine clothes in case she had a toxic diaper spillover. Because we've had a couple of them recently, and sometimes all you can do is hose down the baby and put her in clean clothes. I had to deal with one all by myself. Washing Maxine in the bathroom sink, trying not to get poop all over myself, and Maxine laughing and giggling because this is such a crazy new experience that she can't believe I'm not doing it solely to entertain her.
And that right there could be the beginning of a complete post by itself. Maxine is still so new to the world that it takes very little variety to capture her attention and make her laugh. Horyon will sometimes do a funny little dance while making a weird noise, and Maxine just cracks up, over and over. I can do it, too, but it seems to come naturally to Horyon. The other day Horyon was washing the dishes while wearing fuzzy socks that my parents sent her. Maxine was sitting at her feet, and laughed every time Horyon wiggled her feet.
Back to the story. We packed extra clothes for her, and all the stuff we needed for on overnight stay. Well, almost everything we needed...
The drive went fairly well. Getting out of Pusan was a bit nasty. The traffic jam must have been pretty standard. We passed guys walking along selling snacks, and this on a toll road! I think that the cars behind me were getting a bit upset because I kept trying to leave a safe stopping distance between me and the car in front of me. This meant that cars from the other lane could cut in front of me easily. And so once again I found myself adjusting to Korean style driving: aggressively slow. It was stop and go traffic for about an hour, getting us just barely out of the city limits, then suddenly the road was relatively clear. Yeah, there were still other cars on the road, and lots of them were being driven by morons, but at least we weren't all parked next to each other.
I found that many Korean drivers keep their annoying driving habits even at speeds of more than 60 miles per hour. Cars would pass me and cut into my lane barely a car length in front of me. Scary. Some drivers would drive around 45 mph, and some more than 70. (I'm just guessing about the latter, based on how quickly they passed me.) And of course, lots of drivers talking on their cell phones.
The night before, I had gotten directions from J. Horyon, being the plan-ahead type, also got directions from Sujin. We compared them, and found the minor discrepancies to be just that: minor. We had no trouble for most of the trip, but right around five minutes from the U.S. Military base where they live, we hit a snag. The directions I had said to turn right onto a small street, but we were facing a six-lane road. We turned on to it, and drove until I found a safe place to pull over. Horyon called and consulted with Sujin, then we kept on. Within a minute, I saw a sign in English confirming that we were going the right way. Three minutes later we were at the gate of the base.
For those of you not familiar with U.S. Military bases in Korea, these days the gates are very obviously designed so that it would be impossible to barrel through at high speeds. There are armed Korean guards at the gate, but it doesn't convey the feeling that if you make a wrong move you will be shot. We drove in and told the guard that our friend was coming to let us in, and he gestured for us to pull forward to a small parking area to wait.
We had to jump through a couple of hoops to get on base. Unfortunately, we had some problems. Fortunately, J. solved them, proving once again that it pays to be friendly with the people who carry guns. I'm going to skip the details in the interest of national security.
We had a quick lunch at Taco Bell. And let me tell you, Taco Bell may not be great Mexican food. It may not even be good Mexican food. It might not even qualify as Mexican food in America, but over here it's the best I'm gonna get, and the only places with Taco Bells are U.S. military bases! Like they are so desirable that they require armed soldiers to protect them!
I was surprised at the innovations the Bell has made in combining meat, cheese, flour tortillas and sour cream to make new things. America truly is the land of innovation.
That evening we had turkey for dinner. Missed Thanksgiving by a couple of days, but that's OK. I didn't get to make turkey soup of the carcass, but I told Sujin how to do it, and that was almost as satisfying. Jay had rubbed a spice rub on the bird, and it was delicious. He only made one small mistake: he had pulled the neck out of the body cavity, but somehow missed the little bag with the heart, liver and gizzard. Fortunately, they were buried deep in the neck cavity. I fished them out, and threw them in the gravy.
They were kind enough to allow me to carve, which is how I found the missing giblets. They had also asked if I knew how to make gravy. I am not the gravy king, but I got gravy game when it is needed, and honestly, when is it not?
We had a wonderful afternoon and evening. Maxine loved playing with J. Jr. and Maya,
but she especially liked J. Sr. The man has a way with children. When he held Maxine in his arms and talked to her, she was spellbound.
(Notice the way she can't take her eyes off of him!)
That night we stayed in a hotel on the base. J. took me by surprise by paying for the room before we arrived. Actually, it was another case of cung: J. is a very generous man. The hotel room was just the latest act of kindness we have received from him. Whenever they come to Pusan, he offers to purchase items from the military base which are not available in Pusan. At Maxine's birthday party, he brought me a case of root beer, which is pretty much impossible to find on my own. For those of you who like root beer, you will understand. For those of you who don't, it's kind of like crack, only it tastes better and it doesn't make you threaten cops.
I took this picture the next morning in front of the hotel:
I'm telling you that so that you don't get too worried about the events between checking into the hotel and Maxine being cute on a rainy day.
We settled into the hotel with no fuss. The room was big enough and warm enough, and they found a crib for us to use. Maxine took a bit longer to get to sleep than usual, but that's not unusual when she has a busy day with lots of new people and places. It's just hard to settle down, and there is a serious drive to not let it end.
At three a.m. the phone rang. It was not a typical hotel phone, with that annoying electronic beeping ring. This was a military base phone, manufactured with a genuine set of steel bells inside somewhere, under the presumption that if World War Three were to break out you would want to be able to hear your phone ringing over the sound of mortar rounds and machine gun fire. Needless to say, all three of us woke the heck up. Horyon answered the phone and quickly passed it to me.
I spoke to a young man with a crew cut (yeah, I could hear his hair style through the line). He asked if J. had signed us on to the base, and with what kind of pass. I answered his questions honestly, and with as much coherence as I could muster under the circumstances. He told me that he had tried to contact Captain J., but his cell phone was turned off. He also informed me that if the situation was not resolved within 40 minutes or so, someone would be coming around to escort us off of the base.
We called J.'s phone, but as I had heard from the crew-cut gentleman, it was turned off. So we called Sujin's phone. Fortunately, it was not turned off. Because if it had been, I would have had to wander around looking for J.'s house, and I had not a clue as to where it was from the hotel.
J. came and picked me up, and we drove back to the gate. Things were sorted out within 10 minutes. It was J.'s first time escorting overnight visitors, and he had neglected to get a 24 hour pass. No sweat.
Not much, anyway.
By the time I got back to the hotel, Horyon had put Maxine back to sleep. I'm not sure how long it took for me to get back to sleep, or how long I slept until Maxine got us up for the day. All I know is that it was a long day, as was the following week. We treated J. and his family to a fantastic buffet, the details of which I will skip this time, except for one very American exception: it had biscuits and gravy. Oh my, oh my, that was nice. If the price of biscuits and gravy in the morning is a phone ringing in the middle of the night, I'm not absolutely sure that it isn't worth it.
You see, as much as I like Korea, you just can't get a good breakfast here. Go to an international hotel and you pay $10 for a continental breakfast (you should never pay for a continental breakfast on top of what you pay for your hotel room, IMHO) or a lousy pair of fried eggs and toast with a pitiful glass of orange juice. LAME. I don't need to eat breakfast out every day, but once in a while I should be able to have hash browns, eggs, biscuits and gravy, a big glass of juice and coffee. I don't drink coffee often, but with a brefas like that, you need it to stay awake through the morning.
After breakfast we returned to J.'s home. We had all gotten around too late for church that morning, which was a shame. Not only because they have a very lively service, but because it starts at 12:30. We had time for a few more pictures, and some more running around the house. As you can see, J. Jr. really took a liking to Maxine. Is it too early for me to start worrying about suitors? Doesn't matter. I'm not worried about this one. He'll be a fine catch.
We hope to be able to spend a day with J., Sujin, J. Jr. and Maya again soon, but not while we are working. Our first overnight trip was exhausting. I started writing this the following Friday, and it's been a week since then. I am only managing to finish this now by staying up past the hour when a sensible person would have gone to bed.
Goodness, it's a quarter 'till midnight! I fear that I shall turn into a pumpkin!
It doesn't help any that I'm teaching a new class that started this past Monday, as well as testing my regular students. I'm putting in about 20 hours of edumacation per week until Christmas, saving up money to buy the only present that means anything:
Tickets home.
One-way tickets.
Peace,
Rob
which made it a disappointment that they moved to the States immediately after their wedding. After staying long enough to have a couple of kids, J. Jr. and Maya, they were posted in Taegu, Korea. They visit Pusan from time to time, as Sujin's family still lives here, but we don't see them often. Family visits are often like that. We visited them in Taegu once. We're not absolutely sure, but Maxine may have been conceived there. In fact, we considered naming her in the "Paris Hilton" tradition, but decided that "Taegu Love Motel" would be a bit of an unwieldy name.(Sorry, but that's one of those stories that I am physically unable to resist telling whenever I am asked about Maxine's name, and it's about time it got on the Roblog.)
We really enjoyed that visit. J. cooked turkey legs, collard greens and stuffing for us, Maya was just a tiny baby, and we took the train to get there and move on. This time we drove. It was our first time to drive outside of Pusan. We had planned to leave at 10 a.m., so I consider it a smashing success that we were out the door before 11.
We had packed enough clothes for overnight, including some extra Maxine clothes in case she had a toxic diaper spillover. Because we've had a couple of them recently, and sometimes all you can do is hose down the baby and put her in clean clothes. I had to deal with one all by myself. Washing Maxine in the bathroom sink, trying not to get poop all over myself, and Maxine laughing and giggling because this is such a crazy new experience that she can't believe I'm not doing it solely to entertain her.
And that right there could be the beginning of a complete post by itself. Maxine is still so new to the world that it takes very little variety to capture her attention and make her laugh. Horyon will sometimes do a funny little dance while making a weird noise, and Maxine just cracks up, over and over. I can do it, too, but it seems to come naturally to Horyon. The other day Horyon was washing the dishes while wearing fuzzy socks that my parents sent her. Maxine was sitting at her feet, and laughed every time Horyon wiggled her feet.
Back to the story. We packed extra clothes for her, and all the stuff we needed for on overnight stay. Well, almost everything we needed...
The drive went fairly well. Getting out of Pusan was a bit nasty. The traffic jam must have been pretty standard. We passed guys walking along selling snacks, and this on a toll road! I think that the cars behind me were getting a bit upset because I kept trying to leave a safe stopping distance between me and the car in front of me. This meant that cars from the other lane could cut in front of me easily. And so once again I found myself adjusting to Korean style driving: aggressively slow. It was stop and go traffic for about an hour, getting us just barely out of the city limits, then suddenly the road was relatively clear. Yeah, there were still other cars on the road, and lots of them were being driven by morons, but at least we weren't all parked next to each other.
I found that many Korean drivers keep their annoying driving habits even at speeds of more than 60 miles per hour. Cars would pass me and cut into my lane barely a car length in front of me. Scary. Some drivers would drive around 45 mph, and some more than 70. (I'm just guessing about the latter, based on how quickly they passed me.) And of course, lots of drivers talking on their cell phones.
The night before, I had gotten directions from J. Horyon, being the plan-ahead type, also got directions from Sujin. We compared them, and found the minor discrepancies to be just that: minor. We had no trouble for most of the trip, but right around five minutes from the U.S. Military base where they live, we hit a snag. The directions I had said to turn right onto a small street, but we were facing a six-lane road. We turned on to it, and drove until I found a safe place to pull over. Horyon called and consulted with Sujin, then we kept on. Within a minute, I saw a sign in English confirming that we were going the right way. Three minutes later we were at the gate of the base.
For those of you not familiar with U.S. Military bases in Korea, these days the gates are very obviously designed so that it would be impossible to barrel through at high speeds. There are armed Korean guards at the gate, but it doesn't convey the feeling that if you make a wrong move you will be shot. We drove in and told the guard that our friend was coming to let us in, and he gestured for us to pull forward to a small parking area to wait.
We had to jump through a couple of hoops to get on base. Unfortunately, we had some problems. Fortunately, J. solved them, proving once again that it pays to be friendly with the people who carry guns. I'm going to skip the details in the interest of national security.
We had a quick lunch at Taco Bell. And let me tell you, Taco Bell may not be great Mexican food. It may not even be good Mexican food. It might not even qualify as Mexican food in America, but over here it's the best I'm gonna get, and the only places with Taco Bells are U.S. military bases! Like they are so desirable that they require armed soldiers to protect them!
I was surprised at the innovations the Bell has made in combining meat, cheese, flour tortillas and sour cream to make new things. America truly is the land of innovation.
That evening we had turkey for dinner. Missed Thanksgiving by a couple of days, but that's OK. I didn't get to make turkey soup of the carcass, but I told Sujin how to do it, and that was almost as satisfying. Jay had rubbed a spice rub on the bird, and it was delicious. He only made one small mistake: he had pulled the neck out of the body cavity, but somehow missed the little bag with the heart, liver and gizzard. Fortunately, they were buried deep in the neck cavity. I fished them out, and threw them in the gravy.
They were kind enough to allow me to carve, which is how I found the missing giblets. They had also asked if I knew how to make gravy. I am not the gravy king, but I got gravy game when it is needed, and honestly, when is it not?
We had a wonderful afternoon and evening. Maxine loved playing with J. Jr. and Maya,
but she especially liked J. Sr. The man has a way with children. When he held Maxine in his arms and talked to her, she was spellbound.
(Notice the way she can't take her eyes off of him!)That night we stayed in a hotel on the base. J. took me by surprise by paying for the room before we arrived. Actually, it was another case of cung: J. is a very generous man. The hotel room was just the latest act of kindness we have received from him. Whenever they come to Pusan, he offers to purchase items from the military base which are not available in Pusan. At Maxine's birthday party, he brought me a case of root beer, which is pretty much impossible to find on my own. For those of you who like root beer, you will understand. For those of you who don't, it's kind of like crack, only it tastes better and it doesn't make you threaten cops.
I took this picture the next morning in front of the hotel:
I'm telling you that so that you don't get too worried about the events between checking into the hotel and Maxine being cute on a rainy day.We settled into the hotel with no fuss. The room was big enough and warm enough, and they found a crib for us to use. Maxine took a bit longer to get to sleep than usual, but that's not unusual when she has a busy day with lots of new people and places. It's just hard to settle down, and there is a serious drive to not let it end.
At three a.m. the phone rang. It was not a typical hotel phone, with that annoying electronic beeping ring. This was a military base phone, manufactured with a genuine set of steel bells inside somewhere, under the presumption that if World War Three were to break out you would want to be able to hear your phone ringing over the sound of mortar rounds and machine gun fire. Needless to say, all three of us woke the heck up. Horyon answered the phone and quickly passed it to me.
I spoke to a young man with a crew cut (yeah, I could hear his hair style through the line). He asked if J. had signed us on to the base, and with what kind of pass. I answered his questions honestly, and with as much coherence as I could muster under the circumstances. He told me that he had tried to contact Captain J., but his cell phone was turned off. He also informed me that if the situation was not resolved within 40 minutes or so, someone would be coming around to escort us off of the base.
We called J.'s phone, but as I had heard from the crew-cut gentleman, it was turned off. So we called Sujin's phone. Fortunately, it was not turned off. Because if it had been, I would have had to wander around looking for J.'s house, and I had not a clue as to where it was from the hotel.
J. came and picked me up, and we drove back to the gate. Things were sorted out within 10 minutes. It was J.'s first time escorting overnight visitors, and he had neglected to get a 24 hour pass. No sweat.
Not much, anyway.
By the time I got back to the hotel, Horyon had put Maxine back to sleep. I'm not sure how long it took for me to get back to sleep, or how long I slept until Maxine got us up for the day. All I know is that it was a long day, as was the following week. We treated J. and his family to a fantastic buffet, the details of which I will skip this time, except for one very American exception: it had biscuits and gravy. Oh my, oh my, that was nice. If the price of biscuits and gravy in the morning is a phone ringing in the middle of the night, I'm not absolutely sure that it isn't worth it.
You see, as much as I like Korea, you just can't get a good breakfast here. Go to an international hotel and you pay $10 for a continental breakfast (you should never pay for a continental breakfast on top of what you pay for your hotel room, IMHO) or a lousy pair of fried eggs and toast with a pitiful glass of orange juice. LAME. I don't need to eat breakfast out every day, but once in a while I should be able to have hash browns, eggs, biscuits and gravy, a big glass of juice and coffee. I don't drink coffee often, but with a brefas like that, you need it to stay awake through the morning.
After breakfast we returned to J.'s home. We had all gotten around too late for church that morning, which was a shame. Not only because they have a very lively service, but because it starts at 12:30. We had time for a few more pictures, and some more running around the house. As you can see, J. Jr. really took a liking to Maxine. Is it too early for me to start worrying about suitors? Doesn't matter. I'm not worried about this one. He'll be a fine catch.
We hope to be able to spend a day with J., Sujin, J. Jr. and Maya again soon, but not while we are working. Our first overnight trip was exhausting. I started writing this the following Friday, and it's been a week since then. I am only managing to finish this now by staying up past the hour when a sensible person would have gone to bed.Goodness, it's a quarter 'till midnight! I fear that I shall turn into a pumpkin!
It doesn't help any that I'm teaching a new class that started this past Monday, as well as testing my regular students. I'm putting in about 20 hours of edumacation per week until Christmas, saving up money to buy the only present that means anything:
Tickets home.
One-way tickets.
Peace,
Rob
Friday, November 24, 2006
Happy Thanksgiving
Well, happy Late Thanksgiving. Even if you're in America it's too late.
I haven't written in so long I decided that I will post tonight. I will write until Horyon says, "Come to bed, then I will finish the sentence I am working on, perhaps the paragraph, spell check and publish.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and we did the usual Westin Chosun Beach Hotel Thanksgiving Buffet with the Kyungsung University foreign faculty. It started at six, which is exactly the time Horyon got off work, so I drove yesterday. I picked Maxine up at Grandpa and Grandma's home, together with Grandpa. He had some time to ride with us and keep her company in the back seat. After dropping Grandpa off, we got to Horyon's school 20 minutes early. I was fairly proud of myself, as the traffic can get quite nasty by six.
My pride lasted about three minutes, which was, by some amazing coincidence, how long it took Maxine to get bored with sitting in her car seat in the parking lot. I moved into the back seat with her, and freed her from her restraints. I expected that like most damsels in distress she would be pleased with me, and perhaps offer me a kiss as a reward. Instead, she cheered up for about one minute, which was how long it took for her to realize that we were not getting out of the car. I offered her a tissue. It took her almost eight minutes to shred it into little pieces, some strips an inch wide, and some just big enough to grasp between her tiny thumb and finger. I allowed her to stand in the seat between me and her car seat. Less than a minute of entertainment there. I turned the dome light on and off, then left it on and waved my hand in front of it. Another fraction of a minute disposed of. The rest of the time was pretty much Maxine crying out loud to escape, and me crying in my mind to escape.
Once Horyon came out, Maxine cheered right up. Horyon showed her off to three or four coworkers who had finished an hour earlier, but waited around just to meet Maxine. Yeah, I'm living with a Diva.
Once we were on our way, Maxine remembered that she was unhappy being in the car, and started crying again. In a way this was satisfying to me, because Horyon was there and unable to make her stop crying. Sometimes Horyon has an effect on Maxine that seems almost magical, and I can't help feeling a bit jealous. Situations like this remind me that my wife is not cheating in any way, and that when she can't pull out her "magic weapons", she is sometimes reduced to my level of comfort-giving: ineffectual.
When we arrived at the hotel and got out of the car, Maxine cheered right up. We had a lovely evening. Maxine wandered around garnering compliments and a free little Teddy Bear from the hotel staff. Horyon and I took turns eating, though there were a few moments when we all ate. I had some steak, cajun chicken, Korean-style beef ribs, raw fish, boiled shrimp, olives (red, green and black, the real thing, not those pimento-stuffed martini jobs you can pick up at Safeway), crab legs, smoked salmon, fried shrimp, a dinner roll with a slice of lovely yet unidentified cheese, grilled tuna, fresh yogurt with a couple of raspberries in it, a little chocolate mouse, some pineapple, a little watermelon, and three or four glasses of wine.
The watermelon wasn't very good. Hardly surprising for November. But the wine was excellent, as was everything else on the menu.
I'm not sure what Horyon ate, but Maxine had some oo-dong (fat noodles), a crunchy bread stick, some crab soup and rice, some fruit, a few spoons of my yogurt, and whatever she picked up off the floor while we weren't looking.
This year there were no speeches, which was nice.
Horyon and I sat with Fernando and his girlfriend. Fernando is actually in the English department at Kyungsung University, whereas I am in the external affairs department. The difference between us is that he majored in English. You see, in America a degree in English is pretty much worthless, but here it gets a salary double what those of us with "useful" degrees earn. Later, Horyon and I agreed that it was a slightly strange conversation evening. I like Fernando, but he doesn't have any sense of humor that I have noticed.
I said to Horyon that I made some joke, but Fernando didn't laugh, proving that he has no sense of humor, because I am freakin' hilarious. She laughed at this, and I pointed out that she just proved my point because I made her laugh. I also pointed out that if she hadn't laughed, it would have shown that she agreed with me, also proving my point. A win-win situation for me. She pointed out that "clever" and "funny" are not always the same, but I chalked that up to sour grapes.
By the time we left, the wind was blowing and there was a bit of rain with it. When Maxine realized we were getting back in the car, she resumed her complaints, but she was sleeping within five minutes of pulling out of the hotel parking garage. Horyon drove us home, as I was not in the mood to drive with all of that wine and food in me.
I was completely stuffed, though I had only eaten two plates of food plus a little dessert plate. Last year I'm sure that it was four and one. I suppose this is good news, from a health standpoint. But from a buffet-connoisseur point of view, it was a minor disaster. I suppose that at this rate I will be satisfied with one plate of food by the time I'm forty, and by the time I'm fifty I'll be stuffed just from wandering around smelling it.
Horyon has called me, though not to bed, yet. I need to wash the baby bottles, as we will be traveling to Taegu tomorrow. For those of you not familiar with Korea, Taegu is an exotic, fun-filled paradise with many activities to amuse the mind, body and soul.
For those of you who are familiar with Korea, please don't talk to the people who aren't.
I haven't written in so long I decided that I will post tonight. I will write until Horyon says, "Come to bed, then I will finish the sentence I am working on, perhaps the paragraph, spell check and publish.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and we did the usual Westin Chosun Beach Hotel Thanksgiving Buffet with the Kyungsung University foreign faculty. It started at six, which is exactly the time Horyon got off work, so I drove yesterday. I picked Maxine up at Grandpa and Grandma's home, together with Grandpa. He had some time to ride with us and keep her company in the back seat. After dropping Grandpa off, we got to Horyon's school 20 minutes early. I was fairly proud of myself, as the traffic can get quite nasty by six.
My pride lasted about three minutes, which was, by some amazing coincidence, how long it took Maxine to get bored with sitting in her car seat in the parking lot. I moved into the back seat with her, and freed her from her restraints. I expected that like most damsels in distress she would be pleased with me, and perhaps offer me a kiss as a reward. Instead, she cheered up for about one minute, which was how long it took for her to realize that we were not getting out of the car. I offered her a tissue. It took her almost eight minutes to shred it into little pieces, some strips an inch wide, and some just big enough to grasp between her tiny thumb and finger. I allowed her to stand in the seat between me and her car seat. Less than a minute of entertainment there. I turned the dome light on and off, then left it on and waved my hand in front of it. Another fraction of a minute disposed of. The rest of the time was pretty much Maxine crying out loud to escape, and me crying in my mind to escape.
Once Horyon came out, Maxine cheered right up. Horyon showed her off to three or four coworkers who had finished an hour earlier, but waited around just to meet Maxine. Yeah, I'm living with a Diva.
Once we were on our way, Maxine remembered that she was unhappy being in the car, and started crying again. In a way this was satisfying to me, because Horyon was there and unable to make her stop crying. Sometimes Horyon has an effect on Maxine that seems almost magical, and I can't help feeling a bit jealous. Situations like this remind me that my wife is not cheating in any way, and that when she can't pull out her "magic weapons", she is sometimes reduced to my level of comfort-giving: ineffectual.
When we arrived at the hotel and got out of the car, Maxine cheered right up. We had a lovely evening. Maxine wandered around garnering compliments and a free little Teddy Bear from the hotel staff. Horyon and I took turns eating, though there were a few moments when we all ate. I had some steak, cajun chicken, Korean-style beef ribs, raw fish, boiled shrimp, olives (red, green and black, the real thing, not those pimento-stuffed martini jobs you can pick up at Safeway), crab legs, smoked salmon, fried shrimp, a dinner roll with a slice of lovely yet unidentified cheese, grilled tuna, fresh yogurt with a couple of raspberries in it, a little chocolate mouse, some pineapple, a little watermelon, and three or four glasses of wine.
The watermelon wasn't very good. Hardly surprising for November. But the wine was excellent, as was everything else on the menu.
I'm not sure what Horyon ate, but Maxine had some oo-dong (fat noodles), a crunchy bread stick, some crab soup and rice, some fruit, a few spoons of my yogurt, and whatever she picked up off the floor while we weren't looking.
This year there were no speeches, which was nice.
Horyon and I sat with Fernando and his girlfriend. Fernando is actually in the English department at Kyungsung University, whereas I am in the external affairs department. The difference between us is that he majored in English. You see, in America a degree in English is pretty much worthless, but here it gets a salary double what those of us with "useful" degrees earn. Later, Horyon and I agreed that it was a slightly strange conversation evening. I like Fernando, but he doesn't have any sense of humor that I have noticed.
I said to Horyon that I made some joke, but Fernando didn't laugh, proving that he has no sense of humor, because I am freakin' hilarious. She laughed at this, and I pointed out that she just proved my point because I made her laugh. I also pointed out that if she hadn't laughed, it would have shown that she agreed with me, also proving my point. A win-win situation for me. She pointed out that "clever" and "funny" are not always the same, but I chalked that up to sour grapes.
By the time we left, the wind was blowing and there was a bit of rain with it. When Maxine realized we were getting back in the car, she resumed her complaints, but she was sleeping within five minutes of pulling out of the hotel parking garage. Horyon drove us home, as I was not in the mood to drive with all of that wine and food in me.
I was completely stuffed, though I had only eaten two plates of food plus a little dessert plate. Last year I'm sure that it was four and one. I suppose this is good news, from a health standpoint. But from a buffet-connoisseur point of view, it was a minor disaster. I suppose that at this rate I will be satisfied with one plate of food by the time I'm forty, and by the time I'm fifty I'll be stuffed just from wandering around smelling it.
Horyon has called me, though not to bed, yet. I need to wash the baby bottles, as we will be traveling to Taegu tomorrow. For those of you not familiar with Korea, Taegu is an exotic, fun-filled paradise with many activities to amuse the mind, body and soul.
For those of you who are familiar with Korea, please don't talk to the people who aren't.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Some Maxine Pictures
Well, it's been a while since I posted any Maxine pictures. I just wanted to let you know that she's still getting plenty of rest:
Doesn't she look comfortable? I'm sure most of you sleep in the same position.
She had her first meal of spaghetti recently:
It was very entertaining to watch.
She still does that cute, scrunchy face from time to time. I'm pretty sure she's trying to express something, but I have no idea what. She does it for Mommy:
And for Daddy:
She's also starting to enjoy hiding. I think she's pretty good at it for her age.
That's all for now. Have a good weekend!
Doesn't she look comfortable? I'm sure most of you sleep in the same position.She had her first meal of spaghetti recently:
It was very entertaining to watch.She still does that cute, scrunchy face from time to time. I'm pretty sure she's trying to express something, but I have no idea what. She does it for Mommy:
And for Daddy:
She's also starting to enjoy hiding. I think she's pretty good at it for her age.
That's all for now. Have a good weekend!
Friday, November 03, 2006
On the Value of a Penny
The other day Horyon asked me to tell a story from my childhood. I thought for a moment, passing over the gems she has already heard, avoiding stories involving Star Trek reruns or other pop culture references, and finally settled on a little number involving a pear tree, two industrious little boys, and a trip to Dairy Queen.
I'm not sure how old I was, but I can't believe I was more than eight or nine, because an older kid would probably have not gotten involved in this little venture. In addition, we moved to the house next to the aforementioned pear tree sometime after I turned seven, I believe. I am too lazy to do the fact-checking on this, and will undoubtedly be corrected by whichever of my parents reads this first.
It was a bright, sunny, summer day, as I recall. The kind of day when dads all around the country like to mow their lawns. My dad also wanted to mow his lawn, but he had a problem: too many pears. You see, there was a large, old pear tree in a back yard, right off the corner of the house, actually. Every summer it produced pears that were good to eat, if you could get to them before the squirrels did, or before they became overripe and fell to the ground. Not having a gang of migrant workers at our disposal, most of the pears on this tree did indeed become too ripe and fell to the ground at the slightest breeze. This created a few problems:
First, nobody wants minced pear spread around their house after mowing the lawn. Smells nice at first, but that doesn't last long in Kansas summers.
Second, some of the pears fell while still solid. The lawnmower would not mince these. Rather, it would catch them on the blade and sling them at ridiculous velocities across the yard, perhaps breaking a window, possibly knocking over the bird feeder, or if you were lucky, striking the neighbor's dog. (I'm sorry, Cookie, may you rest in peace.)
Third, the bees were crazy for pears. Bees alone wouldn't be so bad, I guess, but we were somehow more prone to wasps. For those of you not familiar with wasps, they are like bees only bigger, meaner, and non-honey producing. Growing up in that house it was a regular summer occurrence for Dad to find wasp nests and spray them with poison after warning us away.
In addition to the pear problems, the tree itself was too close to the house. Pear trees don't live forever, like those giant redwoods. They grow old and die, like all of my houseplants. Dad eventually had it cut down before it could collapse onto his house. Tree murder, floral euthanasia, or preemptive defense of hearth and home, I leave it to you to decide, fair reader. At any rate, the eventual fate of the pear tree did not cast its shadow on the tale you are undoubtedly clamoring for me to get on with.
That summer, my dad had an idea to get rid of the pears without chopping them to pieces or flinging them at random around the yard. He came to me and my brother with the following offer:
For every pear that we picked up, he would pay us one penny (about 10 Korean won). I know that sounds incredibly cheap, but remember that this was 30 years ago, at a time when gum ball machines and parking meters still accepted pennies.
Yeah. Whatever. By this point in the story, Horyon was already laughing. I trust that you, gentle reader, are more kind-hearted than she.
Chris and I set to it, picking up pears and collecting them in our baskets, one for him, one for me. I have no idea how long we did this back-breaking, sweat-of-the-brow work. I don't remember the details of the suffering. I can only judge the harshness of this work by the mental scars that I bear to this day. See? There's one just at the base of my left temporal lobe. You can't see it while I'm wearing my glasses.
I am not sure exactly how it was decided that we had finished. Perhaps we had picked up all of the errant pears. Perhaps our kindly father took pity upon us because we were near collapsing. Or maybe we just got tired of picking up rotten fruit. At any rate, the job was done, and it was time to receive our due payment. After all the pears were counted, I'm pretty sure that I had more than Chris. (He had always been a bit fussy, and undoubtedly skipped over a few rotting pear carcasses that I gladly added to my collection.) My total take for the afternoon was something in the neighborhood of $1.57, and let me assure you, I was pretty happy with that.
Then my father had another suggestion: he would drive us to the Dairy Queen, and we could buy whatever we wanted with our money.
Huzzah! and we were off to Dairy Queen!
When we arrived, Chris bought something conservative. He had money left over which would one day be spent on Star Wars action figures or electric guitars. But to me, this particular trip to the Realm of the Queen of Dairy Products presented a unique opportunity; Usually a trip to D.Q. meant an ice cream cone, or perhaps a Buster Bar. My parents had no wish to spoil me, and knew that excessive eating could eventually lead to the current state of my weight. I do not begrudge them withholding the more expensive D.Q. treats. Ice cream cones, Buster Bars, Mr. Misties, and all the other less-than-a-dollar offerings were delicious, no doubt, but not in the same league as the Banana Split, which cost one dollar and fifty cents: Three dollops of D.Q.'s soft serve. Chocolate, strawberry and pineapple toppings. Whip cream, cherries, and of course, a split banana. In my feverish, pre-pubescent dreams there was no goal higher, no nirvana more delightful, no dairy-based dessert more worthy of adoration. All thoughts of saving a portion of my earnings for a future day went right out the window.
There is no bittersweet little ending to this story involving the banana split ending up on the pavement. I did not change my mind and become more thrifty. There is no heart-touching story of sharing it with my brother, or donating it to the Salvation Army. This story ends with an entire banana split being consumed by me.
Not just any banana split, either. The most delicious banana split I've ever had. I've had banana splits since then made with finer ingredients, and in larger portions, but that was the one by which all others are judged. I am sure that it was all the sweeter because I had worked hard for it.
And that was the day that I learned the true value of money: it is good for putting food in your stomach.
By the time I had finished telling this story, minus the flowery bits I tend to add when blogging, Horyon was in stitches. It was hilarious to her that I spent all of my money while Chris saved some of his. It was a riot that my Dad paid me a lousy penny for each pear. And somehow the whole story had an air of silliness to it that I'm afraid has been lost in this retelling. But it is important for us to share stories like this. Stories that reflect our respective cultures. Stories that give insight into how our minds work. Stories about our families.
I love telling the stories of my life, and my favorite friends are the ones who like to hear them. One of my favorite things about being married is sharing stories like this, as well as others that I have made up to gain sympathy. It is a true blessing to me to have Horyon as the best audience in the world. And every once in a while it is appropriate for me to stand up in front of God and Everybody and proclaim that I truly love my wife. I rejoice that God has made a family of us, and look forward to making our own stories with Maxine.
I'm not sure how old I was, but I can't believe I was more than eight or nine, because an older kid would probably have not gotten involved in this little venture. In addition, we moved to the house next to the aforementioned pear tree sometime after I turned seven, I believe. I am too lazy to do the fact-checking on this, and will undoubtedly be corrected by whichever of my parents reads this first.
It was a bright, sunny, summer day, as I recall. The kind of day when dads all around the country like to mow their lawns. My dad also wanted to mow his lawn, but he had a problem: too many pears. You see, there was a large, old pear tree in a back yard, right off the corner of the house, actually. Every summer it produced pears that were good to eat, if you could get to them before the squirrels did, or before they became overripe and fell to the ground. Not having a gang of migrant workers at our disposal, most of the pears on this tree did indeed become too ripe and fell to the ground at the slightest breeze. This created a few problems:
First, nobody wants minced pear spread around their house after mowing the lawn. Smells nice at first, but that doesn't last long in Kansas summers.
Second, some of the pears fell while still solid. The lawnmower would not mince these. Rather, it would catch them on the blade and sling them at ridiculous velocities across the yard, perhaps breaking a window, possibly knocking over the bird feeder, or if you were lucky, striking the neighbor's dog. (I'm sorry, Cookie, may you rest in peace.)
Third, the bees were crazy for pears. Bees alone wouldn't be so bad, I guess, but we were somehow more prone to wasps. For those of you not familiar with wasps, they are like bees only bigger, meaner, and non-honey producing. Growing up in that house it was a regular summer occurrence for Dad to find wasp nests and spray them with poison after warning us away.
In addition to the pear problems, the tree itself was too close to the house. Pear trees don't live forever, like those giant redwoods. They grow old and die, like all of my houseplants. Dad eventually had it cut down before it could collapse onto his house. Tree murder, floral euthanasia, or preemptive defense of hearth and home, I leave it to you to decide, fair reader. At any rate, the eventual fate of the pear tree did not cast its shadow on the tale you are undoubtedly clamoring for me to get on with.
That summer, my dad had an idea to get rid of the pears without chopping them to pieces or flinging them at random around the yard. He came to me and my brother with the following offer:
For every pear that we picked up, he would pay us one penny (about 10 Korean won). I know that sounds incredibly cheap, but remember that this was 30 years ago, at a time when gum ball machines and parking meters still accepted pennies.
Yeah. Whatever. By this point in the story, Horyon was already laughing. I trust that you, gentle reader, are more kind-hearted than she.
Chris and I set to it, picking up pears and collecting them in our baskets, one for him, one for me. I have no idea how long we did this back-breaking, sweat-of-the-brow work. I don't remember the details of the suffering. I can only judge the harshness of this work by the mental scars that I bear to this day. See? There's one just at the base of my left temporal lobe. You can't see it while I'm wearing my glasses.
I am not sure exactly how it was decided that we had finished. Perhaps we had picked up all of the errant pears. Perhaps our kindly father took pity upon us because we were near collapsing. Or maybe we just got tired of picking up rotten fruit. At any rate, the job was done, and it was time to receive our due payment. After all the pears were counted, I'm pretty sure that I had more than Chris. (He had always been a bit fussy, and undoubtedly skipped over a few rotting pear carcasses that I gladly added to my collection.) My total take for the afternoon was something in the neighborhood of $1.57, and let me assure you, I was pretty happy with that.
Then my father had another suggestion: he would drive us to the Dairy Queen, and we could buy whatever we wanted with our money.
Huzzah! and we were off to Dairy Queen!
When we arrived, Chris bought something conservative. He had money left over which would one day be spent on Star Wars action figures or electric guitars. But to me, this particular trip to the Realm of the Queen of Dairy Products presented a unique opportunity; Usually a trip to D.Q. meant an ice cream cone, or perhaps a Buster Bar. My parents had no wish to spoil me, and knew that excessive eating could eventually lead to the current state of my weight. I do not begrudge them withholding the more expensive D.Q. treats. Ice cream cones, Buster Bars, Mr. Misties, and all the other less-than-a-dollar offerings were delicious, no doubt, but not in the same league as the Banana Split, which cost one dollar and fifty cents: Three dollops of D.Q.'s soft serve. Chocolate, strawberry and pineapple toppings. Whip cream, cherries, and of course, a split banana. In my feverish, pre-pubescent dreams there was no goal higher, no nirvana more delightful, no dairy-based dessert more worthy of adoration. All thoughts of saving a portion of my earnings for a future day went right out the window.
There is no bittersweet little ending to this story involving the banana split ending up on the pavement. I did not change my mind and become more thrifty. There is no heart-touching story of sharing it with my brother, or donating it to the Salvation Army. This story ends with an entire banana split being consumed by me.
Not just any banana split, either. The most delicious banana split I've ever had. I've had banana splits since then made with finer ingredients, and in larger portions, but that was the one by which all others are judged. I am sure that it was all the sweeter because I had worked hard for it.
And that was the day that I learned the true value of money: it is good for putting food in your stomach.
By the time I had finished telling this story, minus the flowery bits I tend to add when blogging, Horyon was in stitches. It was hilarious to her that I spent all of my money while Chris saved some of his. It was a riot that my Dad paid me a lousy penny for each pear. And somehow the whole story had an air of silliness to it that I'm afraid has been lost in this retelling. But it is important for us to share stories like this. Stories that reflect our respective cultures. Stories that give insight into how our minds work. Stories about our families.
I love telling the stories of my life, and my favorite friends are the ones who like to hear them. One of my favorite things about being married is sharing stories like this, as well as others that I have made up to gain sympathy. It is a true blessing to me to have Horyon as the best audience in the world. And every once in a while it is appropriate for me to stand up in front of God and Everybody and proclaim that I truly love my wife. I rejoice that God has made a family of us, and look forward to making our own stories with Maxine.
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