Amanda Takes Off...

Shortly after my arrival in Korea, Mother and I went to Bukchon Hanok Village together so I could go to an embroidery museum (specifically Han Sangsu Embroidery Museum).

I don't know why I'd never made it out to Bukchon before. It's easy to get to, right off of Anguk Station on the orange line.

The hanok village is an area of Seoul where hanoks were protected. I adore hanoks and really want to live in one, so I enjoyed wandering around.

At the museum, I was able to buy a kit to do some embroidery. The instructor only spoke Korean, but I was able to keep up with what she was saying. She thought Mother was there to interpret but quickly realized she wasn't.

Practicing Embroidery

Mother and the instructor rattled on and on about where they were from (the instructor was from Jejudo if I remember correctly), their kids, why Good Man and I don't have kids...

I practiced listening, only interjecting occasionally. Finally, the instructor said, "Mother? Why do you keep calling her mother?"

"Oh, I'm her mother-in-law."

"Ahhhhh, wow! You must be so happy to have a daughter-in-law who studies Korean."

"No, no," I said, "I don't speak it well." If there's one thing I can do in Korean, it's put myself down like a good Korean.

A Kimono

French Knots!

Dragon Motif

The museum had a no photography sign (which I only saw as we were leaving), but I asked for permission, and like always, it was granted. The museum was small but full of really beautiful embroidery samples.

The flower made up entirely of French knots was gorgeous! My French knots are terrible, so I won't be making that any time soon...

Embroidery in Progress

There was also a room in the back area where a woman was working in an embroidery project, and several other projects could be seen in progress. Mother wanted me to pose and pretend I was do it, but I said, "It's not my work!" The instructor merely chuckled, but I couldn't take credit for this perfection!

Old and New

Are those skylights in this photo? Interesting...

Hanoks

Lotus Flowers

Pinecone in a Hole in the Wall

President Lee Myung-Bak's Childhood Home

After I'd gotten the gist of the embroidery (but not finished my hankie), we explored the area some more. At one point, a Japanese-speaking tour guide and an English-speaking tour guide walked past us. (I saw some more later when Sister and I went shopping. Who are these wandering tour guides? Did they exist when I lived in Seoul?)

Mother rapidly said something, and the English-speaking tour guide grabbed my map and said, "Ohhhh, maybe you need an English one." I didn't correct her, and she said, "So she says you want to visit Lee Myung-Bak's old home?"

I looked at Mother, then back at the guide. "I guess I do..."

The whole time we were walking to the home, Mother thought I was going in the wrong direction. "Mother, I speak English. She spoke English, I know where I am going."

When we got there, it was actually two homes right next to each other that he'd lived in. Mother whistled low and said, "Our president grew up rich."

Teddy's Hung Out to Dry

맑은하늘길
(Clear/Bright Sky Drive)

We were walking along 맑은하늘길 which sort of runs along the side of a mountain. We needed to get back down and I headed down these stairs. They are far steeper than they look (darn the cloudy day with no shadows) and Mother balked. "Amanda! It is so steep!"

(I didn't see the traffic cone on the roof when I took the photo.)

Doorway

We made it down to a patjuk (red bean paste porridge) restaurant and on the way, I saw this mask hanging on a wall, and these tiles built into a building. The bright colors of the mask, and the lines of the tiles really caught my eye.

Mask

Tiles

Sister popped up on Google Chat:

언니 미국 가서 오빠방이 허전하다...

Since you went to America, [Good Man]'s room feels empty.

"How was Korea?"

Friends, coworkers, parents of former students... It hasn't mattered who's asked, my answer has been, "Interesting. Good, but interesting."

After one week in Korea, Mother and I got into a massive, massive argument. I didn't blog about it then because I needed distance from it. I also needed time, to see how things would end up.

I'm also not going to blog about the argument in detail now because the details aren't important. But the long and short of it is that I knowingly, and intentionally, acted American and she continued to act Korean (which isn't surprising).

Sister (bless her) acted as a go-between the evening before Mother and I hashed everything out. I thanked her later, because I am pretty sure she was able to explain my thinking to Mother before I explained it again the next morning. (Sister doesn't speak much English, but she and I wrote notes to each other in Korean about it.)

When Mother and I did hash it, I said things to her that I would never have gotten away with if I were a native speaker. (Such as "Don't talk when I am talking. Korean is hard and I need time.")

I didn't apologize, and she didn't apologize. And in this case, there was no need to. Mother thought she did no wrong, and I thought I did no wrong. And both of us were right. As a Korean, acting Korean, she did no wrong. As an American, acting American, I did no wrong.

Once we worked everything out, things got back to normal fairly quickly. In fact, I think things were even better. I think we understood each other more after the conflict, and I suspect fighting and then working through it together (rather than ignoring it) strengthened our relationship.

Before I came to Korea, Mother told me that if I did what she said, we wouldn't fight. I told her that if we did fight, she would win, because she speaks Korean. In this case she was right, but I was wrong: we both won.

So. Was my five-week trip to Korea a mistake?

I got to see places I'd never seen in Korea before.

I practiced so much Korean that when I got back, I found it easier to tell Good Man a story in Korean than in English. When I was done he said, "Wow, your Korean..."

I was able to visit Master, and meet with my Jeonju friends. I even met some other people I'd only known through the net (Grace over at Dating in Korea, and Terry, a regular reader who practices taekwondo).

I learned more about Good Man's life, and I think I came to understand him a bit better, too.

Sister and I traveled to Busan together, went on shopping trips together, built clocks together, went bowling together, baked apple pie and apple crisp together, and just got to know each other better. We built up the private jokes that friends and family members have.

Mother and I went on day trips together, met her friends, cried at sad TV shows, bantered playfully, and went on long walks together. We also built up our own cache of private jokes.

I missed Good Man terribly, especially after the third week. The last time we were separated for more than a few days was before he moved to America. We weren't married, engaged, or even living together. It was a big shift to be away from him for five weeks, and it was hard.

But I wanted to go to Korea to better understand my in-laws, and to really get to know them. I absolutely did that.

I'm so glad that Good Man supported my decision to go. And I'm grateful that Mother invited me into her home for five weeks. I only regret that Father had to work the entire time. I feel like I can honestly call Mother "Mother," and Sister "Sister" and I wish that I had strengthened my relationship with Father, too. But we have the future for that.

Before I went to Korea, I'd joke with friends, coworkers, and students' parents that "this is either my best idea ever, or my worst idea ever."

With hindsight, I can say it was truly one of my best ideas.

"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.

"Amanda! Come eat breakfast!" Mother called.

I dragged myself into the kitchen, coughing from a cold I caught. "This looks delicious," I said.

"Your voice sounds terrible."

"This is my sexy voice."

Mother looked at me, "What? Your sexy voice?"

"Yeah, my sexy voice." I made my eyelids heavy and glanced at Mother sideways. "'Hello...boyfriend'" I said, winking dramatically.

"Oh my God, oh my goodness, Amanda!"

"What did you buy?" Mother asked after Sister and I returned from a massive shopping trip on Monday, Korean Independence Day.

I dumped out the bags (minus the Oreos, which I'd hidden in my room so Sister and I could share them later) and we went through everything. I brought out two solid perfumes I'd picked up at Lush and Sister and I talked about the different scents.

"They had a scent called Lust, but it smelled terrible," I said.

Sister agreed, "It smelled like a urinal cake."

"Not like lust," I said, shaking my head.

"What is lust?"

I thought for a minute. For some reason I had expected this word would be Konglishized. Sister pulled up the dictionary on her handphone and her eyes grew large.

I said, "When two people love each other very much," I put on a dramatic voice and threw my arms out like I was greeting a long-gone lover, "'I love you!' 'I love you, too!' 'You don't need to wear clothing!' 'Yes!'"

Mother and Sister were both laughing hard. Finally Mother said, "Oh my God, Amanda, you have a talent."

At the cross stitch store, I found the DMC floss colors I needed and then browsed through the patterns. I found a very simple pattern for a gisaeng (sort of like a geisha or courtesan).

"No, you can't buy that," Mother said.

"Why?"

"No, not good. Where will you put it?"

I grinned, "The bedroom."

"No, no."

"Mother," I said, "if I lived in Joseon Dynasty, I would have been a gisaeng."

"Ya! Why?"

"I like to learn things! I would learn art, music, and politics."

"Oh my God, oh my goodness."

"Aigo, Amanda!"

"Yes?"

"Your room!"

"I know, I need to clean."

Mother looked at a shirt on the floor. "Amanda! When you were younger did your mother clean your room? Or make you clean it?"

"She tried, but after a while she shut the door."

"Oh my God, oh my goodness."

"Sit down and wait, Mother," I said at a "women friendly" park near her house.

"Why?"

"There are babies, and you will start talking about babies."

"Only if they're cute," she said, getting up. We passed the babies and Mother wrinkled her nose and whispered, "Not cute."

"Mother, why are you always yelling at me? Do you hate me?" I grinned at her.

"It's just my Gyeongsangdo accent." Mother laughed, "And I yell at my son and daughter and husband, too. Now you are family."

I sighed and imitated Mother, "Oh my God, oh my goodness."

"Your face is getting thinner," Mother said. "You are more beautiful now."

"I am always beautiful."

"You have a big ego."

"I know," I agreed, "So does [Good Man]. I need a big ego to be his wife."

"Ya! Amanda! You are his wife! You should make him have a smaller ego. Oh my God, oh my goodness."