Amanda Takes Off...

When I teach guided reading, I have to choose one book to use on a group of one to five students who mainly have their reading level (and often not much else) in common.

Well, I must have done a good job this time, because yesterday several students were reading their books while walking down the hallway. Score one for Teacher! (Of course they were going to love The Last Book in the Universe, with its mention of "sexbos" on the very first page.)

Today we were told we weren't allowed to go outside (no problem) and since I had expected it, I'd brought the Korean game yut nori. I introduced it as "a traditional Korean game where you get to throw sticks."

Eight students learned how to play and I sat there giving both sides advice and making them think. "Wait...if you go there, what happens if they throw a three next time?"

It soon became as rousing and as exciting as it was when Good Man and I played against Master. The kids were yelling and cheering for numbers, arguing over strategy, stopping each other from bad moves—it was neat to see them so excited about such a simple (no computers, nothing flashy) game.

Score another point for Teacher!

Last week I attended my first 제서. This week I attended my first Korean funeral, and I did so as family, which means I got a fairly in-depth view of how a Buddhist funeral in Korea works. A funeral in Korea generally lasts three days, and I only saw two, so I still didn't get a complete experience, but the experience I did get was fascinating.

Sunday (Day One)

Sunday morning we got the call that Grandmother had died. Sister immediately started looking for plane tickets.

Mother immediately took me to the department store. I needed to pick up some glasses and she wanted to pick up a black scarf for me a black slacks for Good Man. Earlier in the week Mother had demanded that we get new coats, so both of us had black coats, but my scarf was red and thus inappropriate. I brought my grey knit dress to Korea and that was fine for mourning clothing, but Good Man didn't have anything but jeans.

While we were at the department store, Father and Good Man worked on writing up notices and sending the death information out, including the bank account number. In Korea, money is the standard gift for wedding and funerals. Apparently Father took the list of all of the people who gave Mother and Father money for our wedding and emailed them the death notice for his mother, too!

Meanwhile, Mother prepared envelopes of money from her family members. When you attend a Korean funeral, you put money (usually 30K, 50K or 100K won, possibly more in multiple of 100K) in an envelope which has Chinese characters for death on it. (When someone is married you put the same amounts in an envelope with the Chinese characters for marriage on it.)

Good Man told me I didn't have to pack anything because you wear the same clothing the whole time. OK. We flew to the Jinju (Sacheon) in the evening and went to the funeral home.

장레식장

The funeral home reminded me of a wedding hall. There was a list of families and rooms being used hanging on the wall. On each list was a name of all of the male descendants in the family. We found our room and on the second floor and headed up there.

Outside of the room was a poster with the male descendants names on it. Grandmother's name was in red at the top and the sons' and grandsons' names were listed in black below her, in order from eldest to youngest. The daughter's name or her husband's name might have been on it as well.

Around the door were large flower stands. These stands had ribbons running down either side. They offered condolences and came from groups like "The Sons' Elementary School's Alumni Association."

Flowers

There was a large room with several low tables set up. Near the entrance was a small kitchen and a shoe rack. Beyond the room I could see a smaller room with an alter set up. We removed our shoes and quickly bowed to the family members we saw before heading to the alter.

There was a photo of Grandmother in the center of the alter and it was surrounded by white chrysanthemums. People were in front of us so we waited until they were done. When they finished, we bowed two and a half times to the alter (two full bows and a shallow head nodding bow). We then turned to Father's Brothers and greeted them. We turned around and greeted the Eldest Brother's Wife (Eldest Brother died several years ago).

Someone must have put our money envelopes in the wooden box near the alter, but I didn't see it.

We went back into the main room and the aunts brought us some food. Bossam, a beef soup, rice, and a bunch of side dishes. We sat down and ate together.

And if I were a guest at the funeral, this would be the extent of my knowledge of Korean funerals. But I'm not a guest, I'm family.

The Alter and Room
(Forgive the poor shot. I was given one chance to get it and I blew it. You can, however, see the hemp armband in this photo.)

Visiting

The first day of the Korean funeral basically consists of hosting visitors. Visitors would come, greet family members, introduce themselves as needed, bow, and eat. One the first day it was mostly the women and some male cousins who were serving food.

Some visitors, mostly older men, gambled or played card games. Unfortunately, since I was family and not a visitor, I couldn't even play Solitaire. Since I had just met most of the family members a week earlier, I really had nothing to do. I tried to help the women prepare food, but they kept telling me to rest.

The aunties were all wearing black hanboks over their regular clothing. One of the aunts I don't like asked if I wanted to wear one. I pointed at the women my age, the female cousins and the wives of the male cousins. "She doesn't have one, she doesn't have one, she doesn't have one... It would be uncomfortable," I said.

"Ahhh," said Unliked Aunt, "but it would be an experience."

OK, I'm going to give this woman the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn't mean to make it sound like she thought I wanted to make a mockery of Grandmother's funeral by playing dress up. I looked at Mother, who is unfortunately not the eldest of the aunties, and said "If you want me to, I will, but I will be uncomfortable."

"No, no," she said, "You don't have to."

Black Hanbok

I did meet some new family members. One of them, a cousin who is Sister's age, was really neat. She spoke clearly and slowly, and the three of us chatted about men and Korea and what Cousin and Sister are looking for in men. That was nice.

Now, if I were Korean Family, we would've had to stay at the funeral home the entire time. Luckily, Mother and Father decided that since I'm Foreigner Family, I'd be more comfortable sleeping at a hotel. They say "comfort," but I suspect they want us to make babies.

Eldest Cousin drove us to the hotel/motel area of town. On one side of the street was a large (expensive) hotel. On the other side of the street was a cluster of love motels. Since love motels imply sex, Eldest Cousin was obviously uncomfortable asking us where we'd prefer to go.

I said it didn't matter to me, and we headed into a love motel. Eldest Cousin paid for it. That was strange. But sure, buddy, thanks. We had strict instructions to be back at 8 am for day two of the funeral.

Monday (Day Two)

The second day of the funeral was really interesting to me. Before we got on the plane, Father had asked if I'd ever been to a funeral in Korea. When I said no, he told me to just copy everyone else. Day Two turned out to be a lot of that, but I was so grateful for the 제사 experience, because I had some clue of what was going on.

We arrived around 8 am and had yesterday meal for breakfast. At 8:45 a Buddhist monk showed up. He took a small table, placed it in front of the alter, and went through his ceremony. I was watching from a distance, so I couldn't see most of us. For a half an hour he chanted and rang a bell to send Grandmother into he afterlife. Meanwhile, the Buddhist daughters-in-law (Mother was not included) were bowing behind him at certain times. Near the end of the ceremony, the sons joined in. Finally, the monk made a big sound with his throat, sort of like a clucking, and that was the end of the ceremony.

It was 9:15. After the monk said a few words, the family went downstairs to view the body. I expected that the body would be fully prepared for burial and we would view it, much like a wake. I was wrong.

Viewing the Body

Grandmother was wrapped in a light yellow hemp cloth. Two men (undertakers?) knotted the cloth around her in seven places. There were hemp strips either side of the body and they'd pull them taut and wrap them around each other until they kinked up and formed a rosette shape. At this point, Grandmother's face was covered. The men showed us her face. The sons and daughters approached, but I hung back. I had only met Grandmother a week before and it wasn't important for me to edge out other family members to see her. I felt like it was more important for them to see her.

They covered her face again. Then there was a long process where they tied layer after layer of hemp over her body. At one point, this process included handing the body over to the sons. They stood in a row, arms outstretched, and helped transfer her to a new layer of cloth. I was hurting for Father, for all of them.

The final layer was folded back and forth. She was on a layer (several?) of hemp, and that layer had been pre-cut so that strips were perpendicular to her body. Another hemp cloth was pulled over her body. They started at the head, pulled the hemp down a bit, and folded it back toward her head. Then they use the strips of cloth which were horizontal to her body and tied a knot. They continued the process until her entire body was covered. When it was covered, it looked like she had seven waves of hemp over her whole body.

They cut the hemp, leaving a long piece past her toes. Then they cut a U-shaped chunk out of that, leaving two narrow pieces of cloth on either side. They pulled the final bit of cloth under her body and tied the strips to the strips closest to her feet.

Then they placed her body in a very simple pine coffin, which was lined in paper. They had rolls of paper (sort of like the kind you see in shoes, but larger) that they placed around her body to keep it in place. Then they placed another cloth over her whole body, then a piece a paper with red writing on it went over it, and finally they placed a white piece of paper over her.

The men placed a straw mat on the floor. The sons slipped off their shoes, lined up in order of age and bowed 2 1/2 times. The daughter and daughters-in-law followed. The grandsons were next, and finally, we granddaughters went.

Then men picked up the mat, and said a few words. The sons approached the body one-by-one in order of age, placed money on her, and touched her chest (as best as you could through multiple layers of cloth).

The daughters followed. Except Eldest Brother's Wife dramatically wailed for a really, really long time (mostly for show, says Good Man) and the two men who prepared the body finally ran her off and asked the rest of the in-laws to do it as a group. They sort of ignored him and approached her mostly one-by-one.

Then the grandsons went and placed there hands on her, and finally we granddaughters did.

The undertakers collected the money and passed it over her body several times. According to Good Man, the undertakers kept the money. It was payment for them.

The undertakers told us to not look back, and we left the room.

Alter Ceremony

We returned to the second floor, where we were all dressed specially. The sons were already wearing (and had been wearing) suits and a hemp armband with two black stripes on it was pinned to their left sleeves. The daughter and daughters-in-law were already in their black hanboks. The in-laws also had a white ribbon in their hair.

But the grandsons and granddaughters were simply wearing dark clothing. The grandsons were given simple white hanbok jackets. The married sons were supposed to wear a pale yellow hemp hat. At that time, Good Man was the only married grandson in the room and his head was too big (!) so he had to skip the hat.

White Hanbok Jacket

The granddaughters were given white hanbok skirts. (Mother complained that the hanbok skirt wasn't fitting around my waist. First, I'm not Korean, I don't have a Korean build, and even when I was skinny enough that my hair was falling out in clumps in the shower, my hip bones were the same size. Second, I was wearing a wool dress over a triple-layer petticoat. I told her I didn't have to participate. That shut her up. I did wear the skirt.)

White Hanbok Skirt

We lined up in rows in Confucian order in front of the alter and did a lot of bowing. Nobody had really told me what we were doing, so I just copied Sister, who was standing next to me.

The next part was similar to what I'd seen done at the 제사. A drink was poured, passed over incense three times, and placed on the alter. Then a rice dish was hit three times with chopsticks. The three signified heaven, earth, and man. Then the person/people bowed 2 1/2 times.

The sons went and did this incense/drink part in order of age, one by one. So did the daughters-in-law (as a group...I think, if I remember correctly).

Then the daughter went. I found this fascinating, since I would think the daughter, being born of Grandmother, would at least get mixed in at the same level as the in-laws. But of course not. The Korean word for a woman to get married is "husband house go to" (시집가다). When a woman marries, she is considered part of the man's family. So the in-law daughters were considered next in line. The daughter wasn't. This is also why I was considered a granddaughter. I may not share Good Man's name or have a drop of Korean blood in me, but I married into his family and am now considered in line.

I was watching closely. I expected the grandsons to go next and then the granddaughters. Since Eldest Cousin and his wife weren't there, and the other granddaughters and grandsons were unmarried, I was the eldest granddaughter. I was watching really closely because I wanted to know what to do. I thought the grandsons would go as a group, as would we.

But I was surprised, again. Because we're second generation, the grands- (sons and daughters) all went together and the eldest grandson did the incense part.

Finally the people who were not directly in line (daughter's husband, Patriarch [Grandfather's Brother] and his Wife) had an opportunity to do what we'd done.

We stepped back from the alter. It was 10:00.

Dismissed and Counted

After that the main ceremony of the day was over, it was back to visiting, and my boredom set in. There is only so much small talk I can make with people I don't know and won't see again for years. However, since I was wearing the white hanbok skirt, it was obvious I was a granddaughter, and that meant fewer people looked at me like they'd thought I'd gotten lost.

While visitors were gambling and playing cards, I was family, so I wasn't allowed. At one point was so bored, I really wanted to serve people food. Unliked Aunt said, "Oh, it looks like Amanda wants to serve!"

I said, "I do. I'm bored."

Not 15 seconds later she handed the tray of food to her son.

So apparently she wants me to play dress up to have an "experience," but I can't serve food? Twit. I can manage to take food off of a platter and stick it on a table and say "please eat deliciously."

I went and sat against the wall and played games on Sister's Blackberry. Several of the sons were playing games on their phones, so I didn't feel too guilty. I ignored everyone unless Mother or Father specifically introduced me. I didn't care how busy it got. I wasn't going to serve food.

And Unliked Aunt? She sent Good Man over there to keep me company because I was bored.

"If she would let me serve food, I wouldn't be bored," I said. " But oooooh nooooo, the foreigner can't figure out how to put food on a table!"

"None of us like her," he said.

I ended up hiding out in the tiny room next to the alter and when Good Man and I went in there, two men (Grandfather's Brother's children) were counting out the funeral envelopes.

We were sitting for a while and I was playing with the Blackberry. Then one of the men stammered in English that I should number each envelope and count the cash and label the envelope. Then I stacked up the cash in front of me based on their denomination.

That man and Good Man counted out stacks of one million won (about $1,000) while the other brother took the empty envelopes and copied the envelope number, person's name, amount, and any messages or notes they'd written on the envelope.

We got through 75 envelopes. Some of the envelopes were from the funeral hall. Some were pre-printed with the Chinese characters. Some were regular envelopes (sometimes imprinted with the giver's home or work address) with the characters hand-written or stamped on them.

It was actually fairly interesting work, and I was glad they asked me to help. It made me feel useful, instead of just being the random white attraction in the room.

I do find it rather telling that a woman didn't think I could do a woman's job, but the men trusted me with counting money.

Learning

Good Man and I flew out Monday night (parents' choice), so I didn't see the third day of the funeral, when the body was buried. I am told that the mound was built up to the appropriate height. Mourning will continue for 47 days, but the visiting is basically over after three days. The sons who live near the burial site will visit frequently to pay respect and keep the site clean.

As awful as it is to say, I'm glad Grandmother died when I was here. When Grandfather died, Father was working abroad, so he couldn't attend the funeral. Grandmother has been in the hospital since September, so it wasn't a surprise that she passed away. While I know Father was hurting, I think he really appreciated being able to attend her funeral. Father flies out on Friday. If Grandmother had held on for just a week longer, he would've missed her funeral.

Mother is happy that Grandmother lived until she could see my face.

I feel honored to have attended the funeral as a family member, even though I was often bored (hey, so were the other cousins). Although we only attended two days of the funeral, those two days taught me more about Confucianism than any of my past (mostly incidental) reading. Again, like 제사, this is another experience I wouldn't've had without being married to Good Man.

Balance

Over the course of two days, I have met 20 living family members and three dead family members.

I was engaged in an exercise in finding my place in Good Man's family, both immediate and extended. It was also about realizing why Koreans interact with foreigners like they do.

Saturday: Jinju

Yesterday we drove down to Jinju (진주) from Seoul. We visited Good Man's Maternal Grandparents, his grandmother, and we had to do a ceremony to honor the anniversary of his grandfather's death (in 2005).

Although I lived in Korea for two years, I never got to see many of the family ceremonies. I went to two weddings and a first birthday party (돌잔치;), but I never made it to a Chuseok (추석) or a lunar new year (설날). Since we happened to be here during the anniversary of his grandfather's death (counted on the lunar calendar), I got to see one of the family ceremonies.

I've always thought that the reason I get along well with Good Man's family (and by that, I mean primarily his mother) is because I'm Korean enough but not too Korean. If I weren't Korean enough, his family might think I'm rude. After all, I did live in Korea for two years, I married a Korean man, and I study Korean. Every mistake in etiquette and behavior would be counted as a strike against me. I would need to be more Korean. Yet...if I were too Korean every mistake would be counted as a strike against me because why couldn't I understand the rest of the culture if I already understood so much? So I've found this balance where every "Korean" thing I do counts for me. I am Korean enough. I know enough of the etiquette that mistakes I make are forgiven. This is a good place to be in.

But navigating that liminal space, sliding between American Amanda and Korean Amanda, can be trying.

Grandmother

When we got to Jinju we immediately went to the hospital to visit Grandmother. Grandmother is in her 80s and rather ill. I'm pretty sure she didn't understand who most (all?) of us were. She was in her hospital bed and made no real sign of understanding why we were there. I met several of Good Man's uncles and his eldest cousin, his wife, and their children. But I wasn't sure what anyone wanted me to do, so I mostly hung back and waited for directions.

At one point Mother called me over and said something in Korean. I replied, "Yes, I know this is Grandmother." She repeated herself. Ahh, she wanted me to yell "Grandmother." So did and I held the woman's hand and waited.

After a few moments, another family member took his turn and I stood near Good Man. He started crying because of his grandmother, and because of his father. Of course, that made me start crying and then Mother started crying. Sigh.

Men

We went to the house that Father grew up in. It's one of the more traditional style houses. In fact, when Father was young it was his job to stoke the cooking fire in the morning!

When we got out of the car, we were greeted by more people I was introduced to. I made the mistake of telling Gomo (Father's Sister) nice to meet her. Hmm, I'd already met her. Mother pointed it out and I apologized and said that all of the woman were wearing black, so it was hard to tell them apart. They understood.

We came into the house and I greeted everyone. I decided to err on the side of caution and be as polite to everyone as I could be. I didn't know who the oldest family member I'd meet would be, but I knew that almost everyone was older than me and male and thus they were all higher than me in Confucian rank. So I figured if I was slightly too polite to someone I didn't need to be too polite to, I'd be forgiven. So for all of the uncles I bowed fairly low and used both hands to shake theirs and said "십니까;" instead of "세요." For Good Man's cousins I bowed a little shallower and still used more polite speech.

After I met all of the men I headed to the kitchen. The men were in the main room and the women were in the kitchen. "The men are all there, I am a woman, so I am here," I said. The women laughed and complimented my Korean. The women were running around preparing a ton of food. I asked if I could help and Mother directed me to just rest. I said, in Korean, "OK, but I have two hands." The daughters-in-law and Gomo laughed but I knew they weren't laughing at me or my Korean. I knew they were laughing because they were happy with my offer.

Mother gave them the honey powder I'd brought and they each thanked me in turn. I had assumed Mother would say the honey powder was from her (which was fine with me, since she was the one who wanted to give it out). But instead she presented it as a gift from me.

After a fair amount of time I asked Mother if I could go outside and take photos. She granted permission and again, the aunties laughed...this time because I'd used "시어머니" to refer to Mother. Again, their laughing didn't seem to come from a place of meanness, but rather surprise that I was using the correct title.

Fish

About 20 minutes later Mother came out and called me back into the house to eat. Again, the men ate in the living room and the women ate in the kitchen. There was Father's Sister, four of the wives of Father's Brothers (Mother included), the Chinese-Korean wife of Good Man's Eldest Cousin, and me.

We were having some sort of fish. 과메기.

I hate fish. I hate fish with a passion. Except for canned tuna fish.

I was sitting next to Mother and I said to her, quietly, but loudly enough that everyone else could hear me, "I really don't like fish."

"Ahh, just try one bite."

I suddenly had flashback memories to being in Sweden with my penpal friend Stina's extended family, eating surströmming.

Mother gave me some cabbage and put dried seaweed (yum), fresh seaweed (ugh), fish (ugh), soybean paste (yum) and raw garlic (yum) on it. I rolled it into a packet and ate it.

Unfortunately I had forgotten what I'd learned while eating surströmming. When you have to eat something you can't stand, several small, quickly chewed and swallowed bites are better than one huge bite where you're going to have to chew and chew to get to the swallowing stage.

So I chewed while Mother, Gomo, the three daughters-in-law, and Cousin's Wife all watched me.

I chewed and I chewed. And I tried not to think of how much I hate fish and fresh seaweed and I forced myself not to gag and finally it went down.

The women smiled and Mother said, "Good." I didn't have to eat any more fish. (Thank kimchi.)

Right there I'd found that balance. Korean enough to eat that fish. American enough to stop after one piece.

Father was in the living room (next to the kitchen) and gave us a bottle of beer to share. I opened it and Mother, Gomo, and I shared some beer. I poured correctly, which the women had to comment on, of course. I told a story about drinking beer at my Korean elementary school with my immediate boss between classes and the shock that that was.

Father asked for the bottle opener and I handed it to him. "Wow! She knows to hold her left hand under her right, correctly!"

Misunderstood

Over our late lunch (~4:00) Mother explained that the ceremony would start around 10:30. I asked what would happen and was told that people would bow. I asked if only the men would bow. They said yes. I asked if Gomo was allowed to bow.

But this is where I was misunderstood (probably in large part because I didn't use "Gomo" in my question!). They thought I was asking if I could bow and said I could.

I realized they were misunderstanding me and said, "Me?"

"Yes."

I shook my head, "But it would seem uncomfortable," I said.

"No, no, you can bow."

I listened to the women talk (except for Cousin's Wife, who said nothing the whole time) and understood, oh, about 5% of what they were saying. When lunch was finally over, I found Good Man in one of the bedrooms. He was with Eldest Cousin, eating a huge tray of 귤 (Korean oranges). Eldest Cousin was talking and talking. When he finally stopped and left, I turned to Good Man.

"Why weren't you eating?" I asked him.

"I don't like that food."

"I thought you liked fish."

"Yeah, but not that fish. That is rotten fish," he said.

"Rotten? I had to eat it."

He looked surprised, "But you hate fish!" A moment later, "Yeah, rotten like kimchi. I don't like it."

"I know, but your mother wanted me to try it so I choked it down," I said.

He smiled. "You are so Korean."

"I was rude, and it was a misunderstanding!" I cried out. I explained to him that I wasn't trying to ask for permission to bow before the alter to honor Grandfather because it wasn't my place. I was trying to ask if Gomo was allowed to bow because even though she isn't a man, she is a direct descendant. "You have to tell your mother I wasn't speaking well, because the women are going to think I'm rude," I said. "I know I'm a woman and an in-law, so it's not my place at all to bow. I was just trying to figure out if Gomo could bow!"

I started crying because I was stressed out and tired. I was curled up on the floor, resting my head on Good Man's leg. He stroked my hair. "Why are you such a nice person?" he said.

"Because I try not to be a rude person and I was misunderstood because my Korean is not good, even though I've been studying."

"OK, OK, I will tell my mom," he promised.

When Mother eventually came in the room to check on us, Good Man told her. She said (truth or face saving, I'm not sure), "No, no, they don't think she's rude. They are happy that she is so interested in Korean culture."

Again, there was that balance. My interest in Korean culture excused my mistake.

Patriarch

Good Man and I ended up falling asleep on the floor. When we finally got up (around 9:30) I wanted to take photos. I wasn't going to take photos of the ceremony itself, but I wanted to take photos of the preparation. We came out of the bedroom. Mother found me, whirled me around back into the bedroom and told me to put the camera away because I had to meet Father's Uncle.

I didn't argue.

I realized that this was the family patriarch, and was the politest I could be. I bowed the lowest, used two hands, the highest level of speech. I let him take the lead. He didn't let go of my hand so I let him hold it. He looked at me and said, in a thick accent, "Hello! How you?"

I smiled and said, "Good. Thank you."

Still holding my hand, he started talking about his work with the Korean and US Air Forces during the war. Father interpreted for me.

When Patriarch was finished, I said, as well as I could, "My grandfather flew airplanes in 1952 and 1953."

Patriarch nodded understanding and said some kind words about the US and the US military.

When he finally let go of my hand, I retired to the kitchen. Patriarch was going on and on about how well I speak Korean. He asked Father what my job was and Father told him I was a teacher. He nodded and said that was a good job. Meanwhile, in the kitchen all of us were listening to him and I was standing there, sort of blushing, because I could understand, oh, 15% of what was going on and that was good enough.

제사

The memorial service finally started. The alter was set up in one of the bedrooms and the men were all in the larger living room area in front of it. The men lined up in order by age, oldest on the far right. They bowed twice before the room where the memorial was set up. Then some random man (usually one of the younger cousins) would run into the kitchen and the women would pile some more of something (it was different each time) onto a plate, which they'd bring back to the room.

Then they'd bow again (twice), and a few men would go into the room and do something. This was repeated multiple times. I lost count after 5 bowing sessions.

I was standing in the kitchen with the six other women and Gomobu (Gomo's Husband). I was watching but trying not to be too nosy. Although I really wanted to take photos, I didn't. I am considered family now and the family members don't take photos. I know that there were times that I felt like a monkey in a zoo living in Korea, and I didn't want my in-laws to feel the same way.

Then Good Man and I were asked to do something special in the room. I whispered to Good Man that I thought he'd told his mom I didn't want to bow but he said that it was because I'd never met him. It was sort of a way for us to do the 인사 (greeting) that Grandfather didn't get at the wedding.

We went into the smaller room and I got a clear view of the alter (for lack of a better word) set up. Tons of fruit and fish were laid out on a table. A special screen made of hanji (Korean paper) was set up. There was a smaller table in front with a bottle of alcohol and some incense.

Good Man poured the liquor into the cup I held. Then I passed the cup over the incense in a circle three times. Then I placed the cup and its stand on the alter and Eldest Cousin used chopsticks to hit the bottom of a metal rice bowl three times.

Then we left the room and stood in the living room area. We bowed twice. I made a mistake and tried to stand back up too fast after the first time. Father caught me and told me to stay down for a few more seconds. The second time, I did it better.

After the ceremony, the adults split up into three rooms. The women were mostly in the kitchen. The older men were in the living room. Good Man, most of the cousins, and I were in another bedroom. We ate all of the food that had been on the alter.

Realization

When we sat down to eat, one of the cousins asked if I could eat Korean food.

One of the things that drives many ex-pats in Korea crazy is the stupid questions they get asked. "Can you use chopsticks?" "Can you eat kimchi?" "Can you drink soju?" Yeah, it's not too hard to do anything of those things. It's not like any of it is rocket science.

But something about the way he said it—I realized that the way it gets translated with a "can" is wrong. It's not a matter of ability, it's a matter of comfort. Mother doesn't give me a fork instead of chopsticks because she thinks I can't use chopsticks. It's that she thinks I'd be more comfortable with a fork. (She's learned though...I get chopsticks; Good Man gets the fork.) It's no different than how I'd offer to make Korean food for a Korean family in America. It's not that I think they couldn't eat American food, it's that I think they'd prefer Korean food.

And frankly, Cousin was on to something because at this point in the day (around 11 pm), I was tired of rice. We'd had rice at breakfast, rice at lunch, rice at late lunch, and now rice at dinner. And in three of those forms, it was a bibimbap sort of rice. I love bibimbap, but I was getting sick of it. I'd also been inhaling the scent of fish for far too long and we'd been eating 귤 nonstop so that my tongue was orange.

Party Talk

While we were eating, the cousins were chatting a bit. I understood them when they were asking Good Man about Virginia. I even understood loosely what they were talking about when dual-citizenship. I understood when they spoke in halting English about seeing Avatar and their "when will you have baby?" questions.

Everything else was a wash. It was really hard to keep track of what was being talked about. I was facing accents I'm not used to, very quiet speaking levels, multiple conversations happening at one time, and background noise from the men in the living room and the women in the kitchen.

The party talk was overwhelming. I was relieved when everyone left, frankly.

Sunday: Graveside Meetings

This morning we woke up (to more rice) and I took some photos around the family house while Father told me about stoking the fire when he was a child, as well as the pigs, chickens, and cows they used to raise. Interestingly, a lot of the things he talked about were new to Good Man.

Then we headed out to Father's grave site with one of the uncles and his wife. We parked on a small road on a mountain owned by the city. We climbed up a large hill, past several graves, before arriving at Grandfather's grave.

Graves in South Korea are not flat like in America. They're mounds that come out of the ground. In front of the mound there is something like a headstone. It's usually shaped much like a table.

Father laid a large persimmon, a large apple, and a paper cup full of soju on the head stone. We stood in a line in front of the grave and bowed twice. This time I was sure to hold myself down long enough.

Afterward, Father picked up the soju and told us to come closer to the grave. Good Man and I did. Father spoke to Grandfather. "Father, [Good Man] is here. He's in America now. He's brought our American daughter-in-law, Amanda. We miss you." As he spoke, he sprinkled the soju over the grave.

Father was mostly doing a good job at holding back his emotions, but he was still showing some, and Good Man picked up on them and started crying. Which set me off, of course. Later he explained that it was very powerful to see his father behave like that, and to be there with me.

Mother and Father showed us the names on the side of the headstone. All of the children's names were in Chinese characters. All of the grandsons' (only grandsons) names were written in Hangul.

A minute or two later, we headed down the hill a bit to meet Eldest Uncle, who died in 2001. We did the same thing there, although Father's speech was a bit shorter. Again, Good Man teared up.

We headed further down the hill to Father's Cousin's Son's Wife's grave. We did the same thing there, as well.

So the mounds were stacked into the mountainside in Confucian order. Grandfather was above Son who was above Cousin's Wife. Next to each mound was a much smaller mound. It turns out that those mounds were being "held" for the other spouse. So to the right of Grandfather and Eldest Uncle was a held mound for Grandmother and Eldest Aunt. To the left of Father's Cousin's Son's Wife was a smaller mound for Father's Cousin's Son.

Climbing back down to mountainside to the car, I was struck by the view. The graves faced more mountains and overlooked a beautiful pool of green water formed by a dam. When the sun comes up in the morning, it must be especially lovely.

Patriarch's Wife

After bowing at the graves, we went to Patriarch's house and I met his wife. She was one of those stooped over Koreans, one of the older Korean women I look at and think, "How did they do it? How do they deal with all of the changes in Korean society?"

We stayed for only a few minutes and she just kept holding my hand, patting my butt, telling me my Korean was good, and calling me beautiful.

Mother's Parents

Next up was meeting Mother's Parents. They also live in the house Mother grew up in. We greeted them (인사) with one bow (because they're still living) and chatted for a few minutes. Maternal Grandmother kept grasping my hand and telling me I was beautiful. Maternal Grandfather complimented my Korean and asked how Good Man was doing in America.

Watching Father and Good Man during this time was interesting. I always scold Good Man because he doesn't really talk to his parents, he just nods, agrees, and says he understands. But that's what Father was doing with his father-in-law. And the cousins all seemed to sort of defer to each other in age order.

Although I can read about Confucianism and its impact on Korean society, I feel like this trip taught me more than reading ever could.

Grandmother

Before leaving Jinju, we went back to the hospital to see Grandmother again. Today she was lucid. Today she moved her head and eyes and even spoke a little bit. Mother introduced me as the "yellow-haired daughter-in-law" and I got up close, hoping she could see me through her cataracts. I think she did, because her eyes grew very wide. Mother even noticed and smiled about it.

Grandmother was put into the hospital in September. We didn't think I'd be able to meet her, frankly. I'm glad that I was.

Grand Total

I met:
Four grandparents (one graveside)
One great-uncle and one great-aunt
Four uncles (one graveside) and three wives
One aunt and her husband
Five cousins
One cousin's wife
One cousin's child
Father's Cousin's Son's Wife (graveside)

I learned more about my place in Good Man's family. If I get the obvious cultural things right—the bowing, handshaking, handing things over correctly—I am forgiven for my mistakes. When I get the obvious things right, I learn more about the subtler cultural traditions—the pecking order amongst the men and women, the correct length of time to bow, how memorial services work.

I learned more about Good Man's family. I saw where his family comes from, where his parents grew up. It gives me more insight into them and their lives. And seeing as how I was the only foreigner I saw over a two-day period (including the stops at rest stops), it occurs to me that it was really an act of grace for his entire family to embrace me like they did.

I'm so glad I was able to experience this weekend. It was touching. It was powerful. It was something I wouldn't be able to experience if I weren't married to a Korean man.

We get on a plane in a week. Good Man wants to pack. I just want to sleep.

I am getting sick and feeling exhausted and damn, I need this vacation.

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Wedding Day Photos

These are Mom Shots, not pro shots.