Amanda Takes Off...

I got home Tuesday night, missing the 5.8 earthquake that struck the area by a few hours. And this weekend we dealt with Hurricane Irene.

So. Apparently I will not be waiting a year to get a new car.

Irene's Wake

Where's the Branch?

Hand in the Cab!

Cracked Windshield

From the Passenger Side

We weren't able to find the branch that caused that damage.

The Blue Book value on my car is only about $2500 (and that's being generous) so I didn't have comp on it. I'm not going to bother to pay for repairs considering the value of the car, its age (a '99), the fact that the rear leaf spring needs to be repaired... No, this is a sign that I need to get a new (used) car.

Good Man will be out of town this week, and preplanning starts at school, but luckily I found several coworkers who are willing to carpool with me.

Good Man and I went for a ~3.5 mile walk around the neighborhood. We saw one downed line (it looked like cable, not power), and a downed robin's nest. We saw no other property damage. Why my truck? (Good Man's car was right next to mine and doesn't even have a scratch on it; we have comp on his car!)

But hey! I will get air con! And a CD player and/or USB hookup! A car with air con, a dream come true!

"I am like an ajumma," I said to Mother, as we walked to Herb Garden. "I am not working. I am exercising. My husband works very hard. I am wearing a hat..."

Mother giggled, "Being an ajumma is not bad," she said, "it is not scary."

I looked at her, "Ajummas on the subway are scary. Their elbows are like knives!" I picked up my pace and elbowed my invisible competition before throwing my imaginary purse in a seat to mark my spot.

"Oh my God, oh my goodness, that is true."

Mother and I went for a walk at Herb Garden when it was rainy. We both had umbrellas and the park was mostly empty. But it started raining really hard, so we stopped for a few minutes under a covered rest area, where two women were already waiting.

"We will wait here until the rain becomes lighter," Mother said.

"I understand," I said, stretching my calves, "It will be more comfortable if we wait."

One of the women turned to Mother. "Is she your daughter?"

Mother smiled, "Yes."

I had expected I would constantly be referred to as "the foreign daughter-in-law," but I was wrong. I have mostly been the daughter-in-law. This time I was simply the daughter. Mother hasn't called me a foreigner nearly as much as I thought she would.

The two women nodded. I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly.

"Mother, when you and Father speak, you use banmal."

Over breakfast, Mother nodded. "Yes."

"But on Korean dramas, and in books, the man speaks banmal and the woman speaks jondaemal." (Banmal is the common/familiar form of Korean, and jondaemal is a more polite form of speech.)

Mother smiled. "When we were first married, I spoke jondaemal, but we have been married thirty years now! So I decided a few years ago that we are friends, and I started speaking banmal. When I did, Father got angry. He said, 'Why are you speaking banmal to me? Are we friends?' I said, 'We have been married for a long time now! Yes we are friends and I will speak banmal to you!'"

I laughed, "Mother, you are a sassy woman!"

Mother grinned and said, "A little bit." She paused and said, "When I speak banmal with someone, I feel closer to them in my heart."

Well, that would explain why Mother was fine with me speaking banmal to her. At the beginning of the trip, I used only jondaemal, but toward the middle of the trip, I started slipping into banmal. When I realized it, I apologized, but Mother said I was family.

"OK, see that swimsuit on that man?" I asked Sister in Busan, at the beach.

Sister looked, "Yes."

"In America, we call that a banana hammock."

"Hammock?"

"Where people sleep in hot countries," I said, looking up the word on Sister's handphone. I showed her the phone and she nodded. "And banana is like pepper."

Sister started laughing and nodded. Then she tilted her head toward a man down the beach, "He is wearing a banana hammock, too."

I stopped to look at a sculpture. "OK, this...is a little weird."

Sister looked up, too. "Yeah."

"What is that in Korean?" I said, pointing to a part of the sculpture. "Man eggs?"

"I don't know."

I looked at her. "I don't believe you. How do you say 'man eggs' in Korean?"

"불알," she said quietly.

"불 like fire? Fire eggs. I am going to remember fire eggs."

Sister shook her head, "Different 불."

"I know, but now I will remember 'fire eggs' for 'man eggs.'"

Sister just laughed and laughed. (A few days later, Mother lectured me on how I should feed Good Man a lot of tomatoes so he doesn't get testicular cancer, so it's a good thing I learned about 'fire eggs' from Sister.)

Sister comes into my room and declares, "Mother took all of the coins from my bedroom."

Mother took all of my 10 won coins from me when we were shopping. Good Man says she's like me and finds coins, except I find coins on the street and Mother finds them in other people's purses.

"Mother!" I call out, "You're a thief-cat!" (Thief-cat is the literal translation of alley cat.)

Mother comes in the room. Sister and I are sitting on the bed, and Mother is in the doorway, her shoulders square. "You should've cleaned your room."

"How much money was it? Give me my money back!"

"Amanda, will you drink soju?"

"No, it would be weird. If I were alone with Master, I would drink soju, but since you are coming, it would be weird."

Mother said, "You should not drink soju. It is bad for your health."

"Mother, you told me to drink soju instead of soda."

"No, I didn't."

"[Good Man] was there. It was on Skype."

"OK, maybe I did."

Last night Mother and I went across town to meet Master. I was nervous, but it went well. Master's kids were super shy which made everything a little weird. We went out to the dalkkalbi place that I like so much and had a good time.

And Mother. Mother ordered soju. I touched her forehead and asked if she was OK. She laughed and said no.

"Mother, have you ever had soju with [Good Man]?"

"Only at your wedding."

While we were eating and chatting, a man popped his head in the doorway. "Amanda."

I looked up with confusion and realized it was Master's Father. I don't think I saw him on our trip here last year, so it had been three years since I'd seen him. It took me a few moments to realize who he was and I could feel a look of recognition pass over my face. "Oh!" I cried out, standing up to greet him.

Master's Father sat down and Mother ordered another bottle of soju. We all shared one shot before Master's Father headed back home (he had popped in just to say hi and share a shot).

"Master," I said after he'd left, "your father looks very healthy."

"He is. He will live a long life."

When we departed at the subway station, I cried. I know I will continue to travel to Korea since I'm married to a Korean. And I know I'll always visit Master's family when I go to Korea, but it's still hard to say goodbye.