Dinner with the Nams

Sure enough, Mr. Nam called me on Sunday morning. “Miss Lori? This is Mr. Nam. You will still come to dinner at my house tonight? I think you do not know where I live. I will pick you up at DongA department store at 5:00 pm. My daughter is so excited to meet you.” Okay.

Whevever I go to someone’s house for dinner in the States, I try to take something. A bottle of wine. Flowers. Something. As appreciation for the invitation. But what is proper in Korean culture? I have no idea. Alcohol is tricky. What if they don’t drink? I haven’t seen any florists since I’ve been here. Food? I remembered a small section on the lower floors of DongA that sold plants. A houseplant is fairly neutral. I think. And if not, well, hopefully they would overlook my faux pas and attribute it to foreign ignorance. I bought a lucious green houseplant, some bright blue and yellow ribbon, and a Hello Kitty pencil (for the daughter). I arrived in front of DongA about 5 minutes early. I watched the people stream past. What if I didn’t remember what he looked like? What if he didn’t show? At that moment, he walked up. “Miss Lori? Hi, how are you?” We walked to his car and he again told me how excited his daughter was to meet me. He showed me where his Math Academy was. I showed him where Kate School was. We drove the short distance to his apartment building. Hwa Sung Mansion. Yes, “mansion” spelled out in Korean. He parked the car, then we took the elevator up to the seventh floor. He rang the bell, I heard a scurry of feet. “Uh-poppa!” The door opened. His wife greeted me. A little girl ran into the room, stared at me, then hid behind her mother’s skirt.

He introduced his wife as just that. My wife. I still don’t know her name. The little girl was Yo Hyung. I gave her the pencil. She squealed, then danced around the room. I handed the plant to the wife and thanked them for the invitation. She seemed very surprised, but in a good way. They led me to the couch to sit down. The wife disappeared into the kitchen. The little girl would appear, then disappear. Mr. Nam and I talked. The doorbell rang. The wife answered. “Annong Hayseyo.” A young man entered. He was introduced as the brother of the wife. Mr. Nam said, “I thought you would like to meet my brother-in-law. I will let you two talk.” Oh, why do I feel like this was a set up? We chatted about mountain climbing, about our hobbies, where we’ve traveled. He asked if I had been to Seoul. I told him yes, but mostly just at the airports. He said he had been twice. I asked what for. Once was for a MegaDeath concert. Oh, so you’re into heavy metal music? “Yes, I also play the electric guitar.” Okay. What do you do? “I’m a student at university. This is my junior year? My fourth year?” Oh – your senior year. I counted off the years on my fingers. Freshman, Sophomore, Junior, Senior. What are you studying? “Mechanical Engineering. Did you come here alone?” Why is this the question of the weekend? To Korea? Or to your sister’s house? “No. To Korea. You came alone?” Yes. “Wow. You are not married?” No. “But you are so beautiful. Why not?” I’m just not. Are you? He then almost choked on his drink. “No. In Korea men don’t get married until they are 30 years old.” Oh, and how old are you? “26.” Note – Korean age. “And you, may I ask how old you are?” 33. Again, he almost choked on his drink. “You do not look that old. I thought you were much younger.” Thank you. I think. He then started to say something, faltered over his word choice several times, then started pounding his chest with his fists. I must have looked surprised (I must admit, I’ve never invoked this reaction while having a conversation with someone. . . ) and he explained, “I am so angry. I want to talk and do not know the English words.” Sweetie, I feel your pain.

Then Yo Hyung started bringing out the dishes. Many, many dishes. Kim chi. Salads. Soup. Green tea. Rice. Bulgogi (marinated beef strips). Talki (more beef – the kind with the bone that I normally splatter on my face). Spinach. Fried pumpkin. The table was filled with small dishes. Yo Hyung sat down, pointed at me with her chopsticks, and said, “Eat!” Okay! I began with the soup and the rice – two things which I know how to eat. Evidently they were waiting for me to try the other things before they would eat them. So I dug in. And did fairly well. Dropped a few things on the table, but all in all, a success. Except I couldn’t bring myself to try the talki. The wife asked me to try it. I smiled and said yes, but continued to eat rice. She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a knife and fork. Do I use the knife and fork? Or try my luck with the chopsticks? I opted for the less messy knife and fork option. I cut the meat off the bone, then brought it to my mouth with the chopsticks. As with all the dishes, it was delicious.

After dinner, we sat around the table (on the floor) and talked. The wife brought out ginsing tea with honey. Truly a nectar. We continued talking, about Korea, about the United States, about our work, our studies. The wife brought out a platter of fruit – persimmons, apples, tangerines. We continued to eat. The brother in law asked me if I thought Koreans looked angry. Excuse me? They explained that Koreans do not show their expressions very often, so foreigners often think they are angry. But they’re not. Okay. Then he asked if it was hard to live here. Well, sometimes. It’s hard to go to the store and try to find something and not know the name of something. Or to try to talk to someone in Korean and have them stare blankly at you. “But do you ever not understand what is happening? Are there differences between Korean culture and American culture?” Yes, definitely. “When?” I couldn’t think of an example right then, so I told them that. They continued to stare at me. The brother-in-law then said, “Like now?” then started laughing hysterically. Yeah, I guess so.

They wanted to know in detail what I ate for each meal. Where I grocery shopped. What I did after classes. If I had any friends. If I drank alcohol. Was I Catholic. Mr. Nam brought out a bottle of wine, a bordeaux. He said he had bought it thinking it would be very sweet, but it wasn’t. Would I try some? So the brother-in-law and I had some. It wasn’t bad. For a chilled bordeaux.

The entire time, Yo Hyang continued to eat. The child did not put her chopsticks down the entire time I was there. How can a 6 year old eat so much? After the fruit platter was cleared she started working on a bowl of potato chips. She must have learned a new phrase recently, “Are you hungry?” Because she repeated it, over and over. And over. That, and “Oh, my god!” She ran around the apartment. Playing the piano, singing, turning the CD player on and off, painting, completely enjoying herself. Mr. Nam turned to me, “She is the queen of the house.”

We continued to talk. They asked me how many mountains I had climbed. I told them Young-Gi was my first in Korea, but in the United States I had hiked several mountains. They asked if I wanted to go to other mountains in Korea. Oh, yes. There are so many surrounding Daegu, as well as mountains maybe 2 to 3 hours away. Mr. Nam turned to me, “We will climb mountains together. Sunday? Yes?” Well, I may be in Seoul on Sunday, but another day, yes. The brother-in-law explained he had to leave, that he had to get up at 5:30 to go to his English lessons. Whoa. On his winter break from university. There are some seriously driven people here.

The wife was in the kitchen; Yo Hyang came and joined us. She would run in and out of the room, each time she entered the room she would jump into her father’s lap. Until once she came into the room and jumped on mine. Full force. And threw her arms around my neck. “Lori Teacher!” Mr. Nam said, “I think she likes you. We only have one children and she gets lonely. She likes visitors.” Yo Hyang readjusted so she was laying on my lap. I started to sing her a lullaby, rubbing her eyebrows. “Okay, little sleepy-head.” She bolted awake. “Sleepy-head? Sleepy-head?” Oh, a new word. She was up, running around, pointing at Mr. Nam, the wife, and me, “Sleepy-head!” Hee hee hee hee hee.

The wife then took Yo Hyang into her bedroom and tried to get her to bed. Story after story was read. Mr. Nam and I sat in the living room, watching tv. He turned it to the Armed Forces Channel so it would be in English. We watched the news and commented on some of the stories of the day. I was beginning to get very tired. I glanced at the clock. 11:00 pm? How could it be 11:00? He offered to drive me home. The wife and Yo Hyang came out and said goodbye. The wife sent a large container of very spicy kimchi home with me. Mmmmm. . . . breakfast. “Please come back to visit us again.” I would love to. I’ve had a wonderful evening. Thank you so much for dinner. Everything was delicious. Thank you, thank you.

Back in the Pink Palace, I marveled at how things happen. I think I may have met a friend . . .