I did not do much in the way of publishing last weekend because I have been so busy this week. I apologise, dear readers, if this inconvenienced anyone....Aren't pompous prologues fun?
The truth of the matter is, this weekend, I have to go to a worskhop for work, which will just about kill my Saturday afternoon (but not my night!).
Well, on Friday, after work, a group of us went to a galbi restaurant (Korean BBQ). The waitress was unsually cute; although she was middle-aged, she wore her hair in the high side ponytail buns popular here. My coworker remarked that if we wore our hair like that, we would look like aliens, but Koreans somehow carry it off with style. As we were being seated on the floor, my male friend remarked, with a mock-air of gravity, that he would now "enact my right to a meal." The waitress parroted back "Enact, ENACT!" and giggled delightedly with her new word. Every time she came by, she would say "enact."
The waitress then proceeded to give us all lessons in chopstick usage. All of us by now can get food from the plate to our mouths with only a minimum of spillage, but none of us are exactly graceful in doing so. I still drop things occasionally. Korean chopsticks are thin and flat - not at all like Chinese or Japanese style utensils. Perversely, Koreans use giant spoons (the serving spoons that come in a standard culinary set) for soup and rice. The waitress was very helpful to the males in our party, I noticed, but gave up on the females, laughing at our attempts and mocking us all the way! She was very thorough in her service, however, and we wanted for nothing.
We paid and left, heading to a small hof so that the men could have their cheap beer. After about and hour, we headed off in search of a Noraebong. On our way out, some very tipsy buisness men started talking to us. The older one, tagging along his long-suffering wife (or mistress?), found out I was American, and began waxing eloquently (well, in Konglish) about his trip to Yosemite. He then pressed a business card on me. We headed towards the Noraebong.
A Noraebong is similar to a Karaoke place, but has a different system. You pay for a room (includes beer, dried squid, and snacks) and let loose your inner Elvis. I have noticed that Koreans like to sing in public also. There is a big screen where you punch in numbers. There is, of course, a table, upon which are tamborines and other noisemakers! There is also a small stage area, with one lone disco-ball. You have the option of a duet also. At the end of the song, the computer "grades" your performance with a big, loud "TADAAAAAAA!!!!!!" The goal is to get a "100." We had fun making idiots of ourselves. Some of the song options were a bit weird. Even thoguh I was still sick, I managed to belt through "The Phantom of the Opera Theme," high notes and all, and get the highest score of the night. Being on key is not necessary, apparently....
The next afternoon, I headed to Itaewon to get some clothes altered. For some reason, the tailors kept turning their noses up at me, even though I was well-dressed. I went to the "Big Boss" store, and the manager called a laundry that did alterations. She took me down there and even translated. Of course, it felt a bit weird standing in my underwear in a store with no wall on the street-side, but no one seemed to care about my leopard-print underwear, so I decided not to either. I got five pieces of clothing altered for $30!
I went to Subway for dinner, and stood in a slow moving line for a half-hour. As I came up to the front, a highly made-up, middle-aged Korean woman, with a hatchet-faced hard-assed look about her, rudely cut in front of me and gave her order in rapid-fire Korean. I glared at her, and she turned around, clearly startled to see me. "Oh, I'm so damn sorry! I didn't see you," she said, in a rough, cigarette-cloyed voice. Proper Korean women do not use any form of swearing; they just keep it to themsleves. They also do not smoke. Clearly, by her mannerisms and her language, she spent quite a bit of time near, and probably on, the miltary base. I am guessing she was one of the many "massage-therapists" (hookers too old to be cute) in Itaewon. The funny thing is, many also do "legitimate" massage therapy, or so I have been told.
On Sunday, I hope to get my rebellious hair styled. Wish me luck.
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