Number NINE

This story is important to express for Oh SO Many Reasons. The main being that I have a few spare moments to reminisce and laugh over the tragic events within. I'm entitling this work(because the thought alone is work) number NINE. Read on, oh intrigued reader. (I've changed names to protect the innocent...not entirely sure if that's even applicable.)

So It started last summer when I went home to my brother's wedding. I sat on a plane for over 14 hours and made no conversation to the attractive Korean beside me. When I finally decided that 7 hours was long enough to break the ice, he had fallen asleep. I stared angrily at his sleeping face for the next 7.

Long story short....I decided that out of the population of Korea, that I could find the one sleeping Korean on Facebook. Yes....And hereby I stumbled on a profile, added a friend, and met a completely RANDOM and strange Korean that I  had coffee with.

Whew.
Let's call him: Mr. Fashion. I want so much to share his real name but I'm afraid he may read and recognize the story...
Mr. Fashion and I talked for a while over Facebook. Such is life and a dangerous one at that. He suggested meeting, but only with the company of his friend because he is a "shy boy." Lollers.
So I naturally took Sarah and we sat in Angel-in-us across from these two gentlemen (why do I use such grand words? There is no need.) Fashion introduced his friend as THE NUMBER NINE. can I write that again? Can you feel the incredulity spilling from my fingertips onto the computer and into the website? THE NUMBER NINE. Yes. I had so many thoughts upon hearing this. I asked "Sarah why is He a number?"
Why has he chosen a numeric value over an English name like Stephen? What DOES it mean? If he has a brother is his name EIGHT? Does he marry a woman named TEN and added together have NINETEEN children? Then what are their names? But alas....there is not an answer. least not one that I take seriously...and since this is my blog...

Mr. Fashion is appropriately named. Just guess his career choice. Also you should know...Pictures truth do not equal. During the course of the ridiculous encounter NUMBER NINE stared out the window and mumbled nonsensical answers to our questions. Fashion asked us questions ranging from clubbing to america . Sarah being the kind hearted person   supplied questions to fill in the conversations inevitable holes. One of the questions asked involved illegality. I will not re-post the question, for fear of government and school monitoring. (sarah's fears have infiltrated my brain.) So let me phrase it like this:

"Do you eat wood?"
Sarah and me staring blankly. "Uh no."
Sarah with brows raised, "Have you?"
"Of course!"

I was trying to keep my composure the entire evening. I decide to ask Numero Nueve a direct question.
"what are you thinking?" I say conversationally.
I didn't hear his answer, but Sarah choked on her Frappee (hazardus these Korean men) at his response.
"You're so beautiful." was his reply. (I'm not sure if I believe or want to believe Hanka's hearing abilities.)

Then at the height of conversation a group of Koreans were laughing loudly next to us. 9 has remained silent for most of the evening aside from murmuring words like "special....ok....good....thanks...and you" as if they were magical incantations. Fashion said, 'they are are noisy.'
"yeah....noisy" Sarah and I responded. My responses had started to become like rainman. Mechanical and mumbled...maybe I had caught it from NiNe.
That was when Nine cracked. There are a couple of things in this world that this numerical value can't handle...1 being noisy people.
"SHUT UP B*tch!" Nine yelled. Can you imagine the incredible hulk, slamming his hand on the table? Well it wasn't that. It was more like Paddington Bear being angry.
Anyway the table stopped but since they were Korean and those where English words, they went back to their loud antics.

We left but the two men asked to meet again! I believe the question was "When you're free...lets go club? ok?"
 No. ok.

Sarah on the walk back home , "What just happened?"
"I have no idea." And it's the truth.

NOTE: ( I put in an astrid because I believe that my family may read this and become offended. Maybe I should have written (shut up female canine!)

Note # 2: Every once in a while, Fashion updates his life. With albums entitled "Simply (Actual name)" Or "me and my apartment"....in which there is no apartment and only him...

That's not the Recycling man...

"Faith."
"What?" I answer. It is 11:30 pm. Sarah is on the other end of my small Korean cellphone. 


"I have a recycling man."


This is obvious. Koreans as previously stated like to "recycle" ie make trash piles because no one thinks a bin would reduce garbage....In each apartment building their is an annoying regulation to sort out garbage into the appointed waste recepticials. So when producing garbage, the foreigner thinks...when is it best to go downstairs? When will I not be scolded in a foreign tongue for the mis-sorted egg container? And if I wait until dark has fallen will the cockroaches (baceeebowlee') eat my face off when I open the dreaded food waste container that is of course too small for the entire apart to use? 
So I understand instantly.


"Yes, I imagine you have a recycling man." (I've seen mine once or twice, when I do I cover my face, pretend I'm a ninja, and slip away. He is a sour looking little man)


"Faith." Sarah pauses for a beat. "He is outside my apartment door."


"Ok, what is he doing?" I ask staring at my four walls. (my apartment is small so it is easy to do.)


"He is ringing my buzzer. I can see him on my video monitor...He's probably mad because I sorted wrong." Sarah rambles.
"Sarah. No."
"No what?"
"That's not your recycling man."
"What do you mean?" Sarah asks.
"I mean he's drunk and ringing you. It's late."
"Mate, why did you tell me that?" Sarah sighs.  "You mean some drunk ajushui is outside my door?"
"Yes." I laugh. I'm trying hard not to. 
"How Dare he." 


Indeed. The man eventually went away, but the situation left it's mark on Sarah. A week later, Sarah and I are walking to dinner.
"Mate I need to find a bin." She says. Ok I start looking, and finding a trash can in K-town can prove complicated. 
"Can you wait until after dinner?"
"No..."
"Why?" 
"I have a frozen bag of food garbage in my backpack. I need to dump it."
I look at Sarah and she explains. "So I've been afraid of my recycling man. So I now dump my trash in subway bathrooms." 
I note the multiple use of the bathroom. "Well," Sarah explains. "They have cameras everywhere.  So I get off at different stops and dump my garbage." 
I picture Sarah ducking in and out of restrooms and getting on and off the train. I laugh loudly. "Is that why you were late today?"
"Yes, mate it is." 

Green tea Frappes and despicable conversations.

Mountain hands. A term most of you probably don't run across normally. In my past year in K-town, this phrase has become synonymous with a green tea Frappe and a conversation that ends and begins with laughter.    I'm going to start sharing a stories " because I have neglected to fully tell you what I have been doing with myself. This last year it was my privilege to spend way to much money in coffee shops and swap daily events with one Sarah Hanka. 

Story # 1:

Mountainy mountainy hands. 

Early last year, Sarah and myself entered 1. Angel-in-us coffee (which Koreans pronounce 'anngell-in-us") to order a green tea frappe. I ordered my frappe from a man who done a mountain shape with his hands to convey "whipped cream" He was probably about twelve years old with orange hair and glasses. Every interaction preceding involved  a debate of whether he was the original motion-er or not.

On the second visit I decided to "be friendly," to which a must wiser Sarah advised against. "Mountain hands" was very pleased to see us and performed normal tomfoolarie, bouncing up and down and giggling with every English word spoken.

"Hello"-me

Giggle, giggle "Hello"

I ordered and man bounced about to his business. At some time during the night after being obnoxious with laughter Sarah and myself went to leave. In korea, there are "strict rules" about recycling. I put that in quotes because no one seems to take them seriously enough to place bins in convenient places or at all, So trash piles form. So I went to carry out my expat duty and sorted my garbage.  

During my haste to leave, I hit Mountain hands very hard. He is a small compact little man and nearly toppled backwards. I suppose he had been bobbing around behind me, waiting to help.(bobbed? How dare I compare him to a fishing line) So I did what any other Westerner might. (is that racist?)

I grabbed him to protect his little body from a fall. And he turned 5 shades of red, removed himself from my arms. He backed up as far as space would allow. Then bowed as deeply as possible. I do not know what to do with this. I did not know. 

And Sarah said, "Faith. what did you do? He done a bow."

Look out Pregnant lady

I have forgotten to post any pictures as of late. I apologize. I apologize. But what are you, the reader seriously going to do? Ha. you have so little power over me.


I want to share a story and a picture. This picture has already circulated on facebook, but the story has not. while in Nampo recently and taking part in Shana-gins, I found myself mesmerized by a young Korean man (no not that young). He flipped his hair s he passed by me, and I thought...hmm...he's adorable. .So I talked to him at the cash register and persuaded him to take a picture with me and the group of roughens I run with. After which I thought, I should thank him another time. He was obviously nervous, embarrassed and a deep shade of red that almost matched his hair by the time I approached him for the final time. I said Thank you and turned to run smack into a pregnant Korean woman with a stroller. I thought to right her, but this did not stop her from starring at me as if I was large troll. Thankash. I stumbled out of the shop after a mumbled apology.

yeah he looks like he's 12 ...