Feed Me…

That must be the vibe I’m sending out. During so-yae (calligraphy) lessons this morning Mr. Lee, the English teacher, asked me if I liked Korean food. “Oh, yes, very much.” What have you tried? “Let’s see, bibimbop, mandu, muul mandu, bulgogi, kimchi, dak kalbi, nang myeon,…” Have you ever tried raw fish? “Yes. Sashimi. Many times. In America and in Korea.” In America? White people eat raw fish? “Yes…” I don’t think so. “Really. Yes, they do.” How? “Well, I’m from San Francisco and there are many Japanese restaurants there.” At this point the other men stopped what they were doing and gathered around. “So I have tried sushi and sashimi. I like it.” We will all go out after lessons one day. We will feed you raw fish.

This is twice in less than 24 hours that an older man has told me he will feed me raw fish. It just seems a bit strange.

After so-yae I went to the gym. As I came out of the locker room, the guy that runs the gym motioned for me to sit down. There was something white and sticky and shaped like a fish on his table. Eat, he commanded. “What is this?” Fish cake. Eat. I picked up a piece. Very … glutenous. And chewy. Not unpleasant, though. It had some beans in it, I think. He put a cup of coffee in my hand. I smiled and offered a gracious “Khamsa hamnidda…”

I stopped by the school to pick up a package that had arrived for me. As I was getting ready to leave, Michelle came up to me. Here, for you! And put a cookie in my hand. I’m very grateful for all of these gifts of food, I just wonder why so many people want to feed me now…