One Is The Loneliest Number

Today is The Fourth of July. Besides it being the fourth day of the seventh month, it is Independence Day back in the states. It was a weird day for me because I'm usually fairly excited about the fourth. The U.S traditions of barbeques all day long, good beer, and an amazing fire-works show to top off the night are all something I look forward to every year. I found myself avoiding other Americans here, and politely declining invites for barbeques. And I'm not really sure why. Maybe I've been in a bit of a funk this week, or maybe I didn't want to pretend that we could make the fourth as good as it is back home. Or maybe I didn't want to think about the states, people in the states, and what usually happens in the states on this day...at all.

Instead I did the normal Sunday duties. I made a big breakfast, did laundry, worked out, and attempted but failed to go grocery shopping. It was a fine day. And I'm okay with fine.

In the past week I have had some odd encounters with some Koreans. Most of the time any encounter with a Korean usually involves them treating me like a complete imbecile, staring at me like I'm from another planet, or just flat out pretending I don't exist. But the Koreans I have come in contact with (and when I say 'in contact' with I mean actually physical or vocal contact, obviously I come into contact with Koreans every single day), have been quite pleasant.

The first occurred when on a weekly walk with my friend Claire. We were crossing a bridge and this elderly Korean woman literally could not take her eyes off of us. So I waved and smiled, asked her how she was. She was taken back a bit, but smiled and mumbled something in Korean. We walked a bit further down the river and realized she was following us. She came right up on us and began talking to us. It was obvious with our blank stares that we did not understand what she was saying, but that did not seem to faze her. She kept speaking. She eventually grabbed us both by the arms and started to drag us down the path. She kept pointing up to some strange building, and gesturing wildly. This literally went on for 10-15 minutes or so, while Claire and I grunted something here and there and this woman-speaking non-stop in a language we did not understand. Then all of the sudden she hugged us, reached into her pocket, and handed us a small candy. She was actually very pleasant, and who knows what she was actually saying. But she seemed to like us, and if we could have understood each other who knows what kind of stories we could have shared.

The second occurred on that same day, as we were heading home. Since arriving we have been trained to keep our eyes on various trash areas in hopes to find something to furnish our almost completely bare apartments. On this particular day we found a gold mine. The apartment building next to ours had an entire treasure chest of things we wanted to take. Of course it just being the two of us, had to choose wisely. I really needed an office chair, and there was a decent one there. However, it was really short. I tipped it over and tried to unscrew all the knobs, when the Korean security guard came up. He started talking to us, but again we had no idea what he was saying. He was motioning with his hands and pointing down at the ground. We quickly realized he was saying there was a taller chair somewhere...presumably down in the ground? We weren't sure. He shuffled into the building and hollered at us to follow him. He went down to the basement, and opened this really large steel door. Now, looking back on this, it was probably really stupid of us to follow him into what we now call 'The Dungeon'. But this guy was a small, older Korean man, and we were certain we could take him if he tried any funny business. He then enters this pitch-black room, reaches up and pulls the light string. And there it was. A lone office chair much larger than the one in the trash, in a very dusty, creepy basement. Why was the chair in there execution style all alone in this creepy basement? We didn't ask. We took the chair, thanked the man, and went on our way.

It seems as though just when I think I have figured out my stance on a culture, or a place (bad or good) something happens and I change my mind. Even the coffee shop I visit every morning before I head into school, has a nice Korean owner who shares her fruit with me when I have the time to sit down.

When I was out on my walk today, I sat down on some rocks to take a little break. I started to think about my time here in Korea thus far, and what's to come next. And before I knew it I had tears in my eyes. And the strange part? I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was upset. I just was. Maybe I was lonely, or maybe I was thinking of people celebrating the Fourth back home. Maybe I was missing someone I shouldn't miss, or wishing I could talk to a friend who turned me away. Maybe I was thinking how long a year actually is, and how sometimes the traveling I want to do after seems so far away.

Sometimes I feel off my game in this country, while sometimes I feel the strongest I have been in a long time. I change my mind about Korea everyday. And I suppose that's a good relationship to have with Korea. If it were too good I wouldn't want to leave and fulfill my goals of travel. And if it were horrible I would be high-tailing it back "home", where I feel more out of place than ever.

Sometimes you just have those days you know? Even in a country full of 50 million people, I still feel lonely sometimes.