It was a sunny Sunday, the really first day I can say sprig because it was the first time I worked in short sleeves this year, I was planting peanuts and garlic on my field and all in all it seemed to be another boring farmer's day. After I made dinner I was just too thirsty and decided for an evening stroll to the village, the granny that has the store in the village works 24/7, to get some beer. I bought them, along with some bottles of soju, had a completely misunderstood conversation with her husband (while some say he's her son) and left the creepy empty village with my backpack happily loaded. Why creepy empty? Well, Gahoe (or Kahue or Kahii or Gahui or Gahee or you name it, however I say it I say it wrong) looks like a ghost town at all times, but Sunday evening is something special. I met two grannies on the way to the store and they quickly crossed the street to not meet me so when I was packed with my beloved beers and was in a hurry to get back home, my thirsty son was waiting me...well, the beers...I was walking in this creepy empty street when from the other side someone is calling me. By name. Tak (that's me, if you don't know it yet), we have a party, open house, come! How could I refuse such a polite invite! Soju, makkoli and some other sweet alcohol, after that some of my beer with soju.. Well, the amusing part for me was just after I entered the open house and everyone wanted to introduce me to the others till they finally found out they already know me all, except two (out of fifteen). Luckily I got a lift home before i got wasted too much so I'm in the shape to write this .
One week ago my son came back from Japan. Looks like the weather was nasty even in the southern Japanese islands since this year's sugar cane harvest lasted less than three months, compared to the five of last year. I went to Busan to meet him and to have two days of drinking, without anyone worried how much food I consume with every sip of beer. And now he's here, for the next three months, in my room that looks more like a greenhouse with all the stuff that is growing in there. Spring has come, even if last week we had a snowstorm with wind so strong that it made some roofs flying.
A long intro, this time. Maybe by now you wonder what are those hobbies mentioned in the title. Frankly, one is merely annoying, while the other can be scary.
The annoying one is a somewhat compulsive behavior in moving the dishes with food. Most of Koreans I've met just can't stand that the gazillions of plates on the table should stay at the same place all the time. They keep them moving and moving, the only sacred is your rice bowl, no one will touch it.
The scary hobby is that they all want to be dating agency. You're single? I will introduce you my friend, she/he is also single. If you don't like him/her I have a lot of single friends. By any chances do you know a woman that would marry a farmer? Being a Korean means you just have to find a partner to every single person you know. No questions if he /she wants it. Two is better than one, together is better than alone. They do it, really. I just hope that it was a joke when they proposed a fifteen years old girl to my son. Of course I hoped it was a joke since I found that baby more fitting to me... khm khm. Never mind.
What about me? This blog is about me... I'm sad most of the time, but I feel cool. I feel really cool when I'm called for some works that are not supposed to be done by usual masons, but by apprentices in the traditional trade. Near Mo mountain there's a guest house that is expanding it's capabilities and building really fancy apartments. With a traditional gudeul - fire floor heated room.That's when we come to play with bamboo and clay.
The second day a few friends came to visit us while we were working and first thing they stole our beers. For revenge I took this picture and I'm posting it because this guy - he's the yoga master I mentioned many times - is supposed to have quit drinking. His wife forbid him.
And I know that sometimes she is checking my blog. And I know Korean women, there's gonna be some hard beating at their home. Yeah, I'm a petty bastard, I know that and I still like myself.
I had in my mind shitloads of very wise comments, but soju and beer made my mind much clear. There is no wisdom. Just the joy of looking at the moon without freezing.
After I wrote this few paragraphs I drank some more soju and beer and went to sleep at 3AM. So yesterday I woke with another colossal hangover, started working on the field and before noon we were drinking makkoli at the neighbor's house, in the afternoon beers on another friend's field and in the evening more beers in a nore bang - it's what you probably know as karaoke room, usually Japanese stuff is more popular and better known than Korean. And today is another hangovered day but it's OK, it's raining so I'm drinking makkoli under the roof. Spring is really in full blossom. Woods are full of pink flowers that are called "the true flower".
Oh, flowers. It was quite a shock here when they found out that I planted flowers in front of my house and some also on my field. I suppose it doesn't look really manly, but I don't care. I love flowers. And I love them even more if it's a cute little girl giving them to me.
Sweet little Jinny made a good deal, she got a huge chocolate for those flowers. And I managed to have a minimalist conversation with her, in Korean. Tomorrow I'm supposed to have a test in Korean and I haven't studied a single second yet. For the time being we put aside the grammar and I have to study more useful things - tools, vegetables and the like. The Challenger - he's really master of his trade, building floor heating systems and working with clay - said he would like to have me as his apprentice all the time but the problem is that I'm completely useless for working in a group. So I have to study Korean hard and fast. And he calls me for work only when he has small jobs so it's just the two of us (sometimes three if Ramon goes with me) and we have no troubles in understanding each other - I do know the trade and I can anticipate what he will do and what he will need. And he has only one complain about our work together - I'm too boring. When it's time for me to be bored I go on my field. The couer du boeuf tomato cultivar is already planted, same for the vienna blue rutabaga, along with welsh onion, green belt garlic, peanuts, oregano, sugar cane (as an experiment) and potatoes. In my room are sprouting sunflowers and the marmande tomatoes. And something I have no clue what it is, I got the seeds from a nun that visited here few weeks ago. She speaks no English at all so I had to polish my rusty French - her congregation is in France and she studied there. Even so she couldn't explain me what seeds she gave me and the Korean name meant less than nothing to me. I could have checked in my dictionary but I forgot the name the very next moment. So it's going to be a surprise.
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