You would have thought I had learned my lesson, after yesterday, that is. But no, when Hye Jin, a former high school student of mine, invited me to have lunch with her family, I once again though, oh, I’ll be gone for 2 hours, then can return home to pack. She and her father picked me up in front of the school at noon. She looked very comfortable in shorts and a casual top, not the rigid school uniform I was accustomed to seeing her in. She saw me walking up the sidewalk, waved, and smiled a shy smile.

Truthfully, when she emailed me and invited me to have lunch at her house, I was very surprised. She’s an excellent student, but painfully shy. Not much of a talker. When I had her in class, I was her “homeroom” teacher, responsible for checking her daily “journal” once a week, where students were instructed to write in English about what was happening to them in their daily life. This was her first year of high school and the adjustment was not easy. Longer hours at school, tougher classes, and from what she wrote, some not so pleasant teachers. One teacher in particular, a man, whom she described as “greasy.” Upon reading some of her entries, I started writing notes back to her, words of encouragement, not just the expected grammar correction. I guess you could say we developed an unexpected rapport. When she found out I had resigned, she stopped coming to English lessons. Another reason I was very surprised to get her email.

Once in the car, she was unusually talkative. What had I been doing since I resigned? Would I travel? When would my parents arrive? She introduced me to her father, whose manner was as kind and compassionate as hers. We arrived to their apartment, about 15 minutes away. She told me they lived on the 18th floor, which was scary at times. “I don’t know why,” she said and giggled. We entered the apartment. Her mother, a stunningly beautiful petite woman who looked no older than 25 (but who was actually 41) greeted me. I was introduced to her younger sister, 7, and brother, 5. Again, Hye Jin looked at me and said, “They are so much younger.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “I don’t know why.”

The two younger children ate in the other room at the “kid’s table”, playing and horsing around more than eating. The four of us sat at the “adult table.” Her mother brought out an incredible variety of foods. King prawns, fruit salad, bulgogi, rice, chop chay (a noodle and vegetable dish), mandu, pajeon; I couldn’t believe how many dishes there were. As Hye Jin’s mother got up many times, preparing food, clearing dishes, bringing us drinks, her father commented, “My wife is very busy. That is good.”

As dessert was brought to the table, Hye Jin turned to me. “We will take a trip after lunch. Is it okay?” I smiled. Of course, it’s fine. Thank you. Where will we go? “Maybe Palgongsan? To ride the cable car.” Hye Jin then presented me with a box. I was very surprised. Hye Jin, what is this for? “For you. For your kindness. We want you to remember Korea.” There is absolutely no way I will forget this experience, this 7 months in a foreign land. I opened the box. There were beautiful Korean fans, the unreal vibrant blue, yellow and red swirling together. A replica of the wooden masks used at the dance at Hahoe. And a delicate painted silk fan, portraits of Koreans of old enjoying the river. I was speechless. Thank you. Thank you so much. This is, well, this is too much. Thank you. They beamed, delighted that I liked their choices so much. Hye Jin spoke. “Okay, let’s go to Palgongsan now.”

We all piled in the car, but not before stopping at Baskin Robbins. Hye Jin bought ice cream for her younger siblings. As we got back in the car, she explained, “If they have food in their mouth, they won’t talk as much.” It was true. The entire time they were enjoying the sticky sweetness of the ice cream, they were silent. As soon as their cups were empty, they began bantering back and forth. Chanting, in Korean, the equivalent of “Go faster than the next car,” over and over and over.

We arrived to Palgongsan and got tickets for the cable car to the top of the mountain. It was the first time I had been to Palgongsan and not hiked. We arrived to the top, greeted by low clouds obscuring the peaks. We walked around the observation deck for a while, then sat at an outdoor table. Her father brought drinks and bapinsu to the table, a shaved ice, ice cream, 7-up, fruit, candy, red beans and whipped cream concoction. It was the Rolls Royce of sno cones.

We finished and returned to the cable car. The younger siblings oohed and aahed every time we hit a bump and tried to make the passengers in the cable cars ascending the mountain wave to us. If someone returned their greeting, they would yell, “Friend! Friend!” and laugh hysterically.

We drove through Daegu, the father pointing out various sites. They offered to guide my parents while they are here. Hye Jin lamented the fact that even though she is officially on summer vacation, classes start again this week (from what I gather, a reduced load).

Once again, I returned to my apartment a good seven hours since leaving. Tired, but satisfied, with a whole new appreciation of the phrase, “Let’s do lunch.”