Date: Tue, 04 Jul 2006 06:48:29 -0500
Things get stranger and stranger by the minute. I went out to buy groceries
and a keyboard so that I can type in Korean and when I sat down outside to
rest a minute and take a sip of my organic apple juice, a bunch of Asian men
started standing nearby and smoking cigarettes. I looked and listened, no-
ticing that they had just a little bit less class than Koreans and started
guessing that they were Chinese. Then I heard them say "Indonesia! Indone-
sia!" And the one who looked the most Korean asked me, "Indonesia?" I shook
my head and then he turned to the others and started making fun of them for
guessing I was Indonesian. Then he asked "Oh-di" meaning where, and I say
"Mi-guk" beautiful country or America as it translates. "Choong-guk" or
central country the Korean-looking one says, confirming that the grummy bunch
are all Chinese. They all seemed so interested in my shopping bags. And if
they weren't all grummy-looking men, I would have stayed and tried to commu-
nicate. But I thought my safe-dar is telling me to leave. So I walked on
towards the dorms.
I realized that my exhaustion that morning may have signaled that I needed
some other nutrient. So I decide to eat some sushi. I walk into a sushi
restaurant, whose owner I spoke with last week, and every worker begins loo-
king at me in this empty place. I suddenly felt nervous. I could tell they
were welcoming me. I sit down at the sushi bar and a menu is placed in front
of me. I pick a very inexpensive $10 dish with fish and vegetables over rice.
The owner warns that it is spicy. He said this in Japanese. I said that it
was "OK" but ask if there were egg in it.
The owner, worried that we weren't communicating, motions to another custo-
mer who was about in his late sixities early seventies. The white-haired man
then asks, "May I help you?" I tell him that I didn't want egg or mayonnaise.
I was assured that only fish and vegetables were in the rice bowl. Moments
later I'm given a side dish of iceberg lettuce salad, a wet towel and water.
Then the bowl comes. It was huge. I wondered if I could eat it all. But
that wasn't all. They give me pickles, kimchi, pumkin soup and miso soup. I
was starting to worry. But that's not all. They give me broiled fish and
skinned baked potatoes. I looked up as if to say, "I did not order this."
Then the owner says "service" (meaning free of charge). As I am wondering
what to do with my food, another waitress gives me a saucer of soy sauce. I
start dipping the sushi into it. The owner nods his head, saying "hmmm," gi-
ving me the eerie feeling that everything I am eating or not eating was care-
fully being examined. I started to eat the broiled fish by, as customary,
prying it apart with my chopsticks. I must have looked as if I were strug-
gling because the owner personally starts cutting up my fish as if I were an
infant. I nod my head.
As this is occuring the white-haired man and the owner are having a conversa-
tion that every-once-and-a-while they include me in. They think I'm only
eighteen-years-old and there are gasps when I say I am in graduate school.
"Are you married? The white-haired man asks. Don't ask me what they thought
of my answer.
Getting thirsty and fearing the cold water I ask in Japanese for green tea.
The owner yells "tea!" and a small army of waitress scurry to get it to me. I
look up and there are two cups, one hot and one cold. As I work through my
meal I finish my miso soup which is always my favorite. As soon as I put the
empty cup down, the owner makes a command and a waitress scurries to get me a-
nother cup of miso soup. She also seeps another cup of tea. I also notice
that while I was concentrating on another item, a slice of watermelon magical-
ly appears in front of me. I'm thinking "All this for $10?"
As I begin to congratulate myself on my progress, the white-haired man says,
"Tempura is coming." I look confused. He explains that I didn't look like I
enjoyed my rice bowl so the owner was fixing tempura or batter fried food free
of charge. I was thinking, how could I eat this? Moments later tempura sweet
potatoes, fish and shrimp are in front of me. I didn't know what to do. I
tried eating the potatoes and tasting the fish. But I don't eat shrimp. Af-
ter that I was so full, you could roll me out of there. I tried getting up
and everyone in the resturant is bowing and saying thank you. I walked up to
the register expecting that I be charged $20 or something. "Mahn won." She
said or $10. I handed her the bill as she smiled and wobbled out of there.
As I walk towards the dorms, I notice a fairly large group of young Korean
American men standing behind me. I know that they ere Korean American be-
cause they are talking loudly in English and before that one smiled at me.
As we cross the street, I realize that they are going to the same dorms. I
ask one if he wouldn't mind carrying a bag because I was so tired. He grabs
all of my bags and now I wish I hadn't said anything because the guy has an
Ebonics street accent and I realize that he thinks I'm trying to pick him up.
So here we are, I, the African American, am speaking standard English and
needing a street slang dictionary to translate the hip-hop dialect of this
Korean American. He marveles at my interest in the Orient. Then trying to
draw attention to his muscular frame says "It's a good thing I work out...Oh
hold up (pulling out his cell phone). My phone is blowin' up." He walks me
to my dorms and we part. My middle of the week excursion is over.
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