Character Sketches

A few months ago I bought a small spiral-bound notebook that fits into my pocket. I sometimes carry it around and have started to write character sketches onto the pages. The notebook has a picture of Mickey and Minnie on the front. They are gazing into each others' eyes the ways only mice can, and on the first page of the notebook the following words are printed: “hello, life is a journey! don't forget it.” (Unfortunately, there is no correct capitalization in this message, but I suppose everything has a time and place.) Anyway, here are a few excerpts:

Paris Baguette – November 25, 2008

There is a baker who works at the Paris Baguette on the corner of my street. He sells soft blueberry bagels and croissants—mostly the chocolate-filled kind (which are sometimes sold out when I stop by at 9:30am on my way to work). He is tall and academic-looking with streaks of silver slicing through his dark hair like it might as well be a flaky pastry with icing.

This man works late at night. Sometimes he steps outside the front of the building, bends his knees, and methodically swings his arms in great circles around his head. Somehow he seems too calm to belong in this metropolitan hub. He has people-watching eyes behind those thick-framed glasses. And he's the only stranger in Seoul to ever have smiled at me.


Grocery Store – November 26, 2008

I saw a man outside the grocery store steal a mandarin orange this evening. He went inside, bought some beer, then walked out through the produce stands, casually turned his back to the light, and lit a cigarette. Its red tip smoldered in the semi-darkness. The man then picked up a small orange from its outdoor stand and rolled it around between his palms. It seemed a curious sort of love affair. When I looked back again, there he was: cigarette dangling from his mouth and both hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his black felt coat. And the orange was nowhere to be seen.

오빠 --Opa

Blessings come in strange packages sometimes. That is a globally accepted truth. I can attest that I have experienced many unusual blessings. However, I have the gumption to believe that there's an extra special (and perhaps extra strange) kind of blessing for me in Korea. That blessing is the blessing of “opas.”

The word “opa” confused me when I first came to Korea for one simple reason: “opa” means “grandfather” in German. So for several weeks I couldn't hear the word without a mental picture of an old man in my head. However, in Korean, “opa” means “older brother.” And as my favorite opa reminds me on a semi-regular basis, he is not yet an old man! (However, he does prefer that I think of him in terms of his American age, which is a couple years younger than his Korean age!)

Anyway, “opa” is the term that Korean girls use to refer to guy friends who are older than they are. Under the Korean social hierarchical system, opas have one self-imposed duty: they must watch out for the well-being of these girls (their “younger sisters”). One guy explained it to me like this: “When a girl calls you 'opa,' it's like she's putting her life in your hands. If she calls me by my name, I can ignore her requests, but if she calls me 'opa,' it convicts me somewhere inside, and I have to do what she wants.”

I've never had an older brother before. I've never known what it's like to have someone take care of me in that way. But I'm learning here. And even though I'm an independent, self-actualized American woman, I kind of like it. Opas are a special brand of people, and I am immensely grateful to have a couple on my side. :)

Orchids

There's an fuchsia orchid growing outside my apartment building. In fact, that's the only thing growing. Well, sort of... A few days ago someone actually tied the orchid stem to a dead plant with green ribbon. It's the only bit of color in the patch of dirt by the front steps and quite possibly the only living green thing within a 1/2 mile radius. But I like it. It seems like hope to me.

Spring will be here soon. The Yellow Dust has started to blow in off the Gobi Desert in China. (They say it's the earliest that it's made its way into Korea.) Kim Jong-il has threatened to fire a missile somewhere this week. A psychopathic killer was recently arrested. The Korean won hit another low: 1507 to the U.S. dollar. And I'm hanging up my long underwear.

The world is a strange place, isn't it? The passing of seasons is strange also. I feel as if I'm holding my breath. I'm waiting for spring and the next few months. And I'm waiting for a gap of time which will move inevitably much more quickly than it ought. The speed of life is unending. The groans of the earth are audible. And so I am holding my breath and waiting in anticipation.