Amanda Takes Off...

I bought five bottles of soju today for a project. (No, the project is not "get drunk").

I then set up the bottles and shot photos of them outside of my apartment complex.

Not a good idea.

Four women on the cusp of being halamonis (barely younger than grandmothers) were intrigued and wouldn't stop chattering at me until I explained to them, in as much detail as I could fluster through, what I was doing.

Was I going to drink the soju myself? Why was I alone in Korea? Why wasn't I married? Did I have a boyfriend? Was he Korean? How much money did my Korean boyfriend [specified, as if I have several boyfriends and keep track of them via nationality] make? Why hadn't he proposed? When was I going to leave Korea? Would I marry a Korean man? Did I color my hair? Did I sleep on the floor? Did I like Korean men? What did I think of Korean history? How old was I? What did my parents do? When did I move to Korea? When did I move to this apartment complex? Wasn't my apartment too big for me to live in alone? I really should be married, right?

And that was about the convoluted order that they asked those questions in, which didn't help my comprehension in any manner.

I didn't even try to answer using honorifics, it was hard enough to answer their barrage of questions sticking to -yo form.

I must admit, those questions were more interesting than the usual "can you use chopsticks/eat kimchi/do you like Korean men" questions I usually get.