This place had architecture like a cabin in the swiss alps: heavy, dark brown exposed beams interwoven with stark white plaster and granite flooring. In short...the opposite of any kind of reputable Italian restaurant that would possibly have my delicious on hand. The restauranteur seated us at a table intended for at least 6 lined with two huge couches on either side. Once Bry and I had settled on a couch each, he got rid of the extra place settings and brought us the menu. This is the point at which it really set in that I would not be eating anything remotely melty that evening, because as I thoroughly took in the one menu we'd been given to share, it dawned on me that it was the exact same menu being served in the small restaurant above our room at the hotel, and I'd already exhausted the things on offer that I had any desire to eat. I think we looked at the menu for an abnormally long time again, because the restauranteur seemed pretty confused when he came back with our tea and we'd only decided on drinks. So confused in fact that he tried to take the menu away...for three full minutes...while I explained in every possible way I could think of that we hadn't decided on dinner just yet. Now, please note that this man's English was very very good. He knew what we were saying and spoke to us in the highest level of conversational English I've heard so far. But unfortunately when bridges are only able to be built from one side (remember, stupid Sarah and Bryan speak NO Korean beyond an-nyoung-ha-seh-yo) and it was really slow going. I had to grab the menu as he said "more slowly" about sixteen times. It was a rough go, let me tell you!
Finally, after receiving our kiwi juice (me) and coffee (Bry) we decided on mushroom and seafood fried rice. Now, to be completely honest, I've never really been a huge fan of fried rice. It's kind of just that "thing you get" when you're ordering in Chinese take-out, kind of to go with your honey garlic spare-ribs or delicious delicious cashew chicken...*drools*...but never as a main, at least for me. This fried rice though was DELICIOUS. Seriously, D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S, and I got to work polishing it off immediately because at this point I was ravenous. We'd taken an afternoon rest time again (like the elderly couple we seem to be rapidly becoming...or perhaps have always been...yay, look at me, I am an old person! I love me!) and hadn't eaten since our foray to Copain that morning and I was HUN-GRY! Unfortunately, jet lag (and or a potential allergy to kiwis that I should probably have checked out/ accept and take as a cue to stop eating the lovely little furries) made it impossible for me to eat more than half. This has happened nearly every time we've gone for food so far and I'm really starting to worry it's because I've done something awful to my metabolism or something by not eating nearly at all for that first day.
Now, the really awful part of this inability to eat even half of my rice is that it basically meant that I also couldn't eat any of the side dishes that came with our meal, which probably led the restauranteur (p.s. I'm not trying to be cocky with my language usage here and if you have a less a-hole sounding way of expressing the fact that this man was not only a waiter but the owner of this fine establishment, please let me know so I can avoid sounding ridiculous and elitist in the future) to believe that we didn't like them/think they were even edible etc. When his wife/fellow restauranteur/cook came to take our plates, Bryan earnestly explained that it was the jet lag that was causing our lack of appetite and that we'd really enjoyed the food, but it's more that slightly possible that she didn't really understand what he was saying even though she nodded. In any case, when we went up to pay (Koreans are endlessly hospitable and will never bring a bill to your table for fear of implying that they'd like you to leave before you've indicated that you're ready to do so...take a cue from these lovely people EVERYWHERE ELSE!), he did look a bit hurt, like we'd judged his establishment unworthy. We felt bad.
Now, just to digress for a moment because as you all know I am the opposite of modest and I feel that I must discuss with you here the ravages that kiwi seem to do to my body. When we got back to the hotel, I was bathroom ridden for at least an hour and I was pretty sure that I might die. If this was just a one time thing, I might be more apt to blame it on the jet lag instead of the fuzzy green little dude in my drink, but the fact of the matter is that kiwis were also involved in the infamous "poo pants" incident in my studio a couple of years ago. It is for this reason that I think I am best to come to the conclusion that we just shouldn't mix and move along to more agreeable fruits. I mean, there's no point in me eating them when others can enjoy not only the taste of the fruit but the more *ahem* long-term benefits of retaining the nutrients it offers.
Anyway, after, er...loosing the majority of my dinner last night, this morning I, again, woke up completely ready to cook and eat Bryan if I didn't get some food ASAP. After our wonderful experience at Copain the day before, we decided to go grab a bite at one of the cafes in the little shopping area we'd discovered on our walk and that Bryan believed had waffles...and other stuff since I'm not super into those latticed pancakes regardless of what people put on them. Here's where disappointment in the land of food sets in again, however, because although we started off with flying colours and a highly successful an-nyoung-ha-seh-yo exchange between ourselves and the woman behind the counter, it quickly disintegrated when we realized that approximately 0% of the menu was in English. Disheartened we continued a little bit up the street to another little cafe, which, like most of the places so far, had a least a couple of words of English on the menu. I'm very proud of us, however, because the amount of English on the menu, though present, in this case was pretty minimal and in order to make sure we got what we really wanted to eat, I actually had to ask questions (like "what kind of sandwiches do you have?" in order to determine what the two descriptions written in Hangul below the word "Sandwiches" actually meant). By far, this was the best meal we've had so far...most likely because it's the first meal where we've been able to order stuff we really really wanted AND been able to communicate how we want it, which, sadly, is no small triumph! The onion bagel and strawberry-banana smoothie I ended up with were exactly what I wanted and I was so so pleased to discover that my bagel even came with cream cheese (although at first I definitely thought it was just a ridiculously large amount of butter...a shockingly large amount of butter not to be consumed by anyone not actively courting heart failure and imminent death...apparently though, this is an entirely acceptable amount of cream cheese to me...go figure)! Bryan got something called "Honey Toast" (which was coated in whip cream) to go with his usual coffee and all in all we were both pleased as punch!
To be completely honest, this whole thing really feels similar to how it must have felt to be a toddler, before you could really ask for what you needed or get it yourself, and you had to rely on those around you who were better able to communicate to understand your complex series of hand gestures and disjointed words and get you what you needed (please note that it's what you needed, not even wanted, but needed...as in things like food, or a place to sleep or...you know, that IMPORTANT stuff). I'm really thankful to everyone we've encountered so far for being so kind and so patient with us, because I know that it must be just as frustrating for them to not be able to fully understand what we'd like and therefore to not be able to give it to us. So far, no one has gotten frustrated enough with us to just give up, and I think that's really impressive as I'm positive that we must be pretty difficult to deal with a lot of the time. Overall, I think this whole experience of flying solo (well, I suppose "in pairs" is more accurate) in a country where I don't speak the language and am only able to communicate the things I need in a very disjointed way will make me not only a better teacher, but also a better, more empathetic person. I think that it's always really important to be able to empathize with others, and there's no better preparation for doing so than experiencing a similar situation yourself. Now when my students are feeling frustrated trying to communicate with me in their own (potentially) disjointed English, I'll totally be able to get where they're coming from and approach the situation with a level of understanding that perhaps I would have otherwise been lacking. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, my mom always says, and I think this is definitely a case where that's true.
Luckily for both of us, checking out of the hotel is the last task we'll have to handle solo for a while because our school is coming to get us in about an hour and we'll have Korean-speaking people to help us out from here on in. I'm pretty psyched to be eating three squares a day again and to be able to just go over to my cupboard to grab some food when I'm hungry instead of having to go on a magical adventure/treasure hunt for menus that contain at least a little bit of English. And eventually I (of course) intend to learn enough Korean for this never to happen again...Yay some degree of independence!
No comments:
Post a Comment