Happy to be Alive

I love the sound of laughter. A plethora of people walk by my apartment daily, young and old. Talking together. Laughing together. Others find joy in companionship, in this strange and unfamiliar place. I will find it too, someday. It is good to think about. It makes me feel cozy inside. Happy to be alive. Happy to be here.

Teresa has come back and moved in. So far it's been going well, but we are both of such different preferences and habits, that I look forward to moving upstairs on the 28th. She's a great friend, and I'd like it to stay that way.

Yesterday I began teaching by a more permanent schedule. I've been given four classes a day. While it pleases me to be teaching more regularly, I hope that this won't be an overkill. Preparation for the classes takes quite some time, and I find myself unable to throw my best into each one, as I would otherwise be. But, on a more optimistic note, most of the students that I'll be teaching are blank slates, with no prior knowledge of English at all. These classes will be so much easier than those I've taught up to this point. I will be busy, but content.

Today has been an interesting one, the recital whereof necessitates the following preamble:
Two weeks ago, Friday, I was promenading through the market. I use this verb particularly for it's expression of lighthearted pluck. It had been a good week, and I felt quitevintoxicated with the joy of life.
My quick pace was called to an abrupt halt by a voice in English demanding my attention, "Excuse me!"
I've before been accosted by strangers who want to talk to 'the foreigner'. Many of them, though not all, totter ambivalently between a state of inebriated giddiness or stupor. Such being the case, I at first made as if to ignore the voice, and moved on. But the words were repeated, and sounded judicious, so I looked around.
"You know me?" the advancing woman asked.
Quite certain that I had never seen her before, I shook my head in a puzzled manner.
"You teach my child." she insisted, "Jameen."
I didn't recognize the name, but nodded my head vigorously enough to more than compensate for its previously puzzled shake. She was, however, nonplussed as to how to continue; no less myself. Her English skills were as inept as my memory, rendering further conversation gauchely absurd. We found ourselves at something of an awkward impasse.
Suddenly her face brightened, "My friend!"
The puzzled look, despite myself, returned.
She fished her cell phone out of her purse, smiled into my enlightened (though no less astonished) countenance, and proceeded to dial the number of a friend. The phone rang and was pressed into my hands. I raised it to my ear (thinking, to my credit, "Yeobosayo? Hello?") and ejected an awkwardly expressive "Uh!"
"Uh…?" was returned, with perhaps less force and more confusion than mine had communicated.
The short conversation that ensued was, though in retrospect amusing, at present painfully uncomfortable. Somehow I survived the experience, however, and as this friend spoke more fluent English than the other, managed to explain something of the situation to her.
Returning the phone to its owner, we exchanged numbers (the thing to do), and I continued on my way, more with subdued meekness, now, than with my former cocky assurance.
The encounter was quickly forgotten, in deference to more pressing demands on my attention, and almost a week passed before I thought of it again. The reminder, though unavoidable, was not unwelcome, as it provided no small diversion. The mother of my student (I still don't know her name) sent me a text: "It's hot. Be careful." I supposed, and still do suppose, that she was referring to the weather. Though I of course laughed at such odd manner of expression, I was nevertheless gratified by her concern, and my thoughts returned to her more than once the over the course of the next week.
Four days ago my phone rang. I answered in English. That I ought to begin answering in Korean has occurred to me, but then I would be compelled to further explain that I really don't speak that language in which I have just spoken. Such prospect daunts me.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Yes." The too typical Korean response. "You remember me?"
Well, actually. "Uh…I'm not sure." What a distinctly diplomatic rejoinder.
"You talked to my friend."
Oh. Yes.
"My friend is here."
Oh.
"You talk to her."
Oh. "Sure!"
Her friend was put on, and arranged, interrupted by many 'um…'s and even more 'say again?'s, for the three of us to meet, the following Tuesday, in the market. As this stretches out over several confusing blocks, I desired a more specific location. "Halla Marteu?" I asked, suffixing a Korean '–eu' to the English word 'Mart'. "You know where?"
"Ah. Yes."
"Meet there?"
"Ah. Yes."
Thus it was arranged. Tuesday at 1:00, in front of Halla Mart, for tea. That day and hour found me, having hastily scarfed down a late lunch, at the specified location, only slightly distracted by a sale on clothes a few stands down.
The two ladies shortly joined me, and amid much giggling, blushing and covering of the mouth with the hand (these three being the typical feminine response to any uncomfortable or embarrassing situation), we properly introduced ourselves, bowed, and otherwise dispensed with the proper formalities.
"Let's eat lunch?" The more fluent of the two asked.
I donned an consternated expression, and exclaimed with exaggerated emphasis, "I just ate lunch! I am so sorry! I did not know! I thought tea!" I patted my stomach to authenticate and to demonstrate, in the event that my assertion needed clarification.
Their expressions of consternation mirrored my own, until I really began to feel a bit guilty.
"But maybe tea?" I meekly put forth, unsure of whether or not such suggestion might be considered forward.
Their faces brightened considerably enough to put me at my ease, and they promptly led me down the street, and around several corners, to a small building. Up one flight of stairs, and through a set of doors, I found myself suddenly surrounded by a dozen giggling, blushing women. This was their church building, I was told by my interpreter. These were all eating lunch together. "But you do not need to eat. We will have tea."
And tea we had. For an hour and a half we visited. They blushed and giggled often, and I was compelled to join. The blushing was a bit more difficult to farce than the giggling, but I managed to compensate by covering my mouth with my hand quite more often than necessary.
As all good things must come to an end, so did this. I eventually excused myself. But not before arranging to join them for lunch on Thursday. I'm eager to make friends outside of my small work circle, and hope that this will be a means. We shall see!

With the passing of summer, I realize in how very many ways that season brings me pleasure, the enjoyment of which will have to be tucked away until next year. Tee shirts. The cool breezes on the mountain top. Dry streets. The blues and whites and light grays of summer dress. Quickly drying hair and clothes. Iced lattes from the little cafe on the corner… *sighs dreamily*

There is much more of which to write, but if I don't quit now, this will never be sent. My love to all of you...
me