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[Ya-ta Boy]

This Sad Little Town Comes Alive on a Friday Night

Ten days in and things are pretty good (largely) at the high school in this little rural town. I�ve met most of my classes twice now and these urbanized rural kids (one hour out of Seoul) can talk rings around those country boys back in Swampville. Hells bells, a lot of them can even make sentences, which none of the Swampville boys could do. Some need prompting but then they can do it. Swampville boys couldn�t make a sentence if their next grope in the alley with a hot chick from the girls school depended on it. There is even a kid here who can carry on a conversation�in Spanish, Portugese or English. (He grew up in Argentina.)

Along about 8 o�clock I was thinkin� it�s time to forego the e-mails to folks back home and hit the town�see what�s shakin� in this metropolis of rural Gyeongi-do. So I decided to go in town for some chicken at the pizza place with the red and blue plastic tables outside. Al fresco dining at its finest. Put on my black long sleeve T and my black short sleeve shirt with the purple flowers that I picked up in Guam on my visa run. Figured it would serve me well if I ran into any ajummas in flowered pants, and set out for a hot night in the 리.

First surprise of the evening: Friday night is THE happening night here. I�d forgotten that people go out on Fridays. The elderly farmers in Swampville go out on Saturday night. I suppose that is after their Saturday night bath, but I am just guessing.

Needed to stop at the bank (yes, �the� bank�there is only one). So I turned left at the end of the sad bridge over the sad river and drove past the bank, looking for a parking place. No go. Drove down the whole two blocks to where that street runs into the main street and turned down it. Not a parking spot to be had anywhere. The town is hoppin�! People standing outside restaurants enjoying the evening air. Circled back around to the river where there are parking spots and left the car by that sad little river. Walked back up the block admiring the local architecture and reading the menus on the restaurant windows, planning a future dining adventure. Walked past 5 ta-bangs in one block�saw a ta bang girl the other evening in an exceptionally mini mini-skirt: must be for hire by the hour.

On the way to the bank I�m aware that there aren�t that many people out. Hmmmm. Must be on the wrong side of the main drag. My other evenings out, I was on the north side and that is where the people were out and about. This side of Main the 6 people I see are on the far side of 60. BUT there is a Pelicana Chicken place! Wa-hoo! I love Pelicana hot sauce. Ah ha! A revised dining plan. Get my cash and come back to Pelicana�time to branch out from the pizza place with the red and blue plastic tables. Fooey on the al fresco dining tonight.

A few feet up the road I stop to scope out the menu of a galbi restaurant. I�m squinting from across the street trying to read through the window and from a distance when I realize someone is standing close to me. I refocus. It�s a way-gookin! I take a step back and say (tentively) �Hi!� He says, �Grorphecise�. Or something like that. He slaps his chest and says, �Russia!� Not to be outdone, I slap my chest and say, �Mi-gook!� He replies, �Vreisicyeskesi?�

�Ahhhhhhhh,� I think. Here�s my big chance to meet up with the local Russian/German engineer (or whatever) crowd. �I�m from the US,� I say. Just then his friend comes up from across the street and he adds his indecipherables to our �conversation�. It seems neither one speaks English. I try a little Korean but that doesn�t get me any farther than English did. Clearly these are not globalized nuclear physicists on the run. Maybe they work at the local cement block factory. We part company and I go on to the bank and get some cash.

Tummy growling, I head back down the street fantasizing about my beloved Pelicana chicken place. Yummy! It�s been weeks since I indulged.

I open the door of this old-fashioned place (not the new-fashioned place with the spiffy new signs that I�d become accustomed to in Swampville with the hot young ajumma behind the counter with the husband who drank too much). There�s a middle school-aged girl in one booth drawing pictures and an elementary-aged boy in the booth opposite writing words in a column�and a mom who comes up to ask what I want. I say I want �양념 반 마리�. And she goes off into a 3 minute spiel about how they don�t have it�or that I can�t eat it there, or maybe I could eat it there but not tonight�I�m not sure what she was on about but she took my elbow and headed me out the door and up the street back toward the bank to the front of another chicken restaurant.

OK. I�m thinking maybe the red and blue plastic tables out front of the pizza place maybe was a better idea, but the ajumma pushes me into the door of this place�it�s next door to Chic 베베 and across the street from Bebe 치기, if you are looking for dinner sometime.

I separate the hanging plastic strips covering the door into the restaurant. There�s a woman behind the counter and another one in front of the counter. The one in front goes, �GASP!!!!!!! And does a yelping double-take.

Now, when I first arrived in Korea I was told by students that I looked like Bruce Willis. (Not on my best days have I ever looked anything at all like Bruce. Later, I kind of morphed into the KFC man.) I have had babies burst into tears when they see me. I don�t look THAT bad. Really.

I make my order and sit down to wait. This place looks sad on the outside�pretty drab on a grungy side-street. Inside it looks sad. But the longer I sit there waiting for my spicy chicken the more I notice that the walls aren�t really dingy. They are just a darkish beige. The booths (4) have dark wood. The place has been �decorated� recently. It just looks sad and dingy. Maybe if they used a higher wattage light bulb? (Dim light bulbs are kind of a thing with me.)

Anyway, I got my chicken and came home. It wasn�t bad, but not great. I will check out the other chicken restaurants in this sad little town. Maybe one of them will be up to snuff. I�m not holding my breath.

That�s my night on the town in this burg. I�m trying to decide which was the emotional peak of the evening: running into two Russians who don�t speak a lick of English or the second chick at the chicken restaurant who yelped when I stepped inside. It�s kind of a draw. Maybe I should start a poll and see what you all think.

[kangnam mafioso]

sounds scary ...
why is it that you refuse to live in seoul?

[rawiri]

Well he's 57 right?, might be a little hard to secure the plush positions.

[blaseblasphemener]

good story. You're the Alice Munro of Korean teachers. Keep em coming, I did actually enjoy your narrative.

[Ya-ta Boy]

[blaseblasphemener]

[Ya-ta Boy]

[blaseblasphemener]