So I was standing in line at immigration, having a little,
“Taiwan has all the fruit and none of the staring, all of the beverages
and none of the shoving,” comedown pity party, and then the lady behind
the counter said literally no words to me. Not in any language, unless
pointing and gesturing counts. Which is a thing that happens too often
when you’re a foreigner here, even in places where people are supposed
to be equipped to deal with foreigners.
And then I went outside and shared a cigarette and a chat with a nice Air Force guy on his way in between Japan and Hawaii. And a weird and funny exchange with a few other foreigners on the train when they got verbally assaulted by an ajeosshi who assumed one of their Asian faces meant she was not Korean, and one of their Asian faces meant she was, and tried to give an awkward and forceful welcome to the one who was not, and then scolded the one he assumed was, in a language she couldn’t understand, for not having the good manners, as a young Korean, to thank him. I was the only one who understood. He never suspected me for a minute. And then the GS25 girl told me, without hesitating, that my 발음 is 진짜 대박. And I was able to give the cab driver directions and answer all of his questions. And I was happy to be home.
This is the first time I’ve come back to Korea from a place that was less familiar to me. In all ways. And it’s reminded me of how far I’ve come, even to the point of being seriously annoyed sometimes. Like with a family member, you know.
It’s the first time I’ve really come home, to Korea.
So that’s nice. Even if the aggressive attitude toward gaining space in the public sphere and the fruit prices are not.
There are a lot of posts owed, like the one about what Busan thought about Taiwan, and the one about how Taiwan definitely has had an effect on our relationship, and the one about how it’s incredible and awful at the same time, to have such loved people of mine dotting places all over the globe. And about language. And plans for the future. And all of those things that time outside will make you consider and wake up to and solidify. They’ll come. For now, laundry and bed.
And then I went outside and shared a cigarette and a chat with a nice Air Force guy on his way in between Japan and Hawaii. And a weird and funny exchange with a few other foreigners on the train when they got verbally assaulted by an ajeosshi who assumed one of their Asian faces meant she was not Korean, and one of their Asian faces meant she was, and tried to give an awkward and forceful welcome to the one who was not, and then scolded the one he assumed was, in a language she couldn’t understand, for not having the good manners, as a young Korean, to thank him. I was the only one who understood. He never suspected me for a minute. And then the GS25 girl told me, without hesitating, that my 발음 is 진짜 대박. And I was able to give the cab driver directions and answer all of his questions. And I was happy to be home.
This is the first time I’ve come back to Korea from a place that was less familiar to me. In all ways. And it’s reminded me of how far I’ve come, even to the point of being seriously annoyed sometimes. Like with a family member, you know.
It’s the first time I’ve really come home, to Korea.
So that’s nice. Even if the aggressive attitude toward gaining space in the public sphere and the fruit prices are not.
There are a lot of posts owed, like the one about what Busan thought about Taiwan, and the one about how Taiwan definitely has had an effect on our relationship, and the one about how it’s incredible and awful at the same time, to have such loved people of mine dotting places all over the globe. And about language. And plans for the future. And all of those things that time outside will make you consider and wake up to and solidify. They’ll come. For now, laundry and bed.
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