Fall

I was getting ready for work when I heard a knock on the door. I answered the door. Standing timidly outside of my door was a middle aged Korean woman. She began talking to me in Korean. I did what I always do, I smile, then I say “Modaradurossoyo, Miguk saram esyo.” And as usual, she continues to speak to me in Korean, as she begins to shuffle around in her bag, finally to pull out a pamphlet in Korean. The only English proclaims, ”Have you found Jesus?” above a picture of Jesus. I tell her politely in Korean, ”Aniyo.” and close the door.

This weekend, I wandered alone navigating labyrinth shopping markets, getting purposefully lost, “eye shopping” as they call it in Korea, and physically wrestling my purse away from a very determined sales women. I could have spent it with Jasmine, my brother and sister-in-law, or one of my co-teachers, but I choose to remain solitary. It’s easier to be in denial when you’re alone. Why didn’t I want to spend it with people, because either way I feel displaced. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and I was right(so where a lot of other people). This weekend I was tired of feeling out of place and alone. Yet, only alone can I fade in and pretend I belong here. Only when I’m silent can I pretend the silence is by choice. With Jasmine, I am constantly learning new things, but all the while aware that no matter how long I spend here I will never be of there. With my brother, sister, or co-teachers I am more consciously aware that I am a foreigner but I appear to be a native. Standing in the subway, I feel foreigners eyes glaze over me seeing me as just another Korean, whom they can not communicate with. Koreans run me over to speak to my foreign friends, while assuming I am a native Korean who’s English is very good. In truth, if I had been alone, I never would have had my pottery adventure, because I am not a foreigner. When I say those words, ”Modaradurossoyo(I don‘t understand).” There is always a smile, but confusion. Why? Some will continue to go in Korean. Maybe they’re waiting for Korean to just pop out of me. Like there is a genetic switch which hasn’t been turned on yet and if they keep speaking I‘ll remember or know Korean like I should. No switch. I don’t understand. Neither here nor there.

So this weekend, I was tired. I was tired of telling my student, “No, I don’t understand. I don’t speak Korean.” I am tired of feeling like there is a bubble between me and the world. I am I still happy I came? Yes, it’s worth it. I like teaching. I like the kids. I am still wondering what’s next? But, that’s a constant question. I am loving all the oddities, the new discoveries, adventures, and being able to take little for granted. It’s just fall, that’s all. Time to pause, to reflect. To watch the grace of decay, the beauty of dying leaves cover mountains which will be here long after you are gone. And hope.