“Jennifer,” he says, in between enormous gulps of kimchijeon. He looks at me seriously. “I am spinster.”
“A spinster is a woman,” I say, abruptly. I know where this conversation is heading and I’m attempting to divert it with unpleasantries.
He doesn’t take the hint. “Oh! Single, single. I’m single.”
A pause. “Jennifer.” In goes half the kimchijeon. “You have lover?”
“Yes.” I’ve learned to lie, finally, when asked this ever-popular question. Being single in Korea (and anywhere else I’ve been in Asia, for that matter) means, apparently, that you are desperate for the companionship of ANYONE, including men old enough to be your father and/or bizarre enough to inspire a speedy getaway. Not that I’m terribly popular with the opposite sex—indeed, I seem to attract only wackos and my natural inclination to honesty has led to far too much trouble—ill-timed calls, incessant text messages, inappropriate emails.
He’s disappointed. He looks to my host family for confirmation, and they quickly explain that I have a boyfriend in America. I’m not sure if they’re simply building a hypothesis on the bits of information I throw their way or if they, too, think this man is creepy and want him to go away. I’m not even sure if they know him! He has come to our house twice now since I’ve returned home, but I am certain he never visited before. As I’m not able to understand what his relationship with my family is, I am highly suspicious of his intentions. I fear they are discussing bride price and therefore I hide in my room.
“I am…number two man!” he exclaims hopefully. And then his phone rings and I dart away.
I first met this man last fall, while on one of my long countryside walks. I was strolling by the dog kennel/pine tree farm—a place I hate because the dogs never fail to interrupt my exercise-induced ponderings with their shrill yipping—when this well-dressed middle-aged man stops me. We have a brief chat and because I had not yet learned to lie, lie, lie, he takes five minutes to decide we should get married. I barely escaped—I was on foot, after all—and later I receive a text that says, simply, “Jennifer I love you.” So I begin to detour around dog road. But apparently now he knows where I live—it’s hard to keep that a secret in a small town. It seems ridiculous to assume he’s visiting my house for my sake, but what other reason for the sudden appearance? He could not have known them before, because then he definitely would have known of my existence as I’ve been living with the Kims for over a year now. It’s most mysterious and exceedingly uncomfortable. Ach, the perils of 혼자 in 한국!
This was at the end of a long, exhausting day of travel. I had the day off (student testing) and decided to hike Daedunsan Provincial Park—something that’s been on my to-do list for months but I’ve been unable to find the time to do it. It was a nice enough hike, I suppose, but much shorter than I expected—only two kilometers to the top! Two tough kilometers of stairs, stairs, stairs, but still…I’d been hoping for a long day hike. Perhaps it was best this way, however, as it took me five hours to reach the park (buses were not nearly as frequent as I expected). Thus it was not the hike itself, but the journey there and back that drained me. Next time I will research the travel aspect a bit more. At least I have another handkerchief for the collection!
Lately my mind is going and I’m making unprecedented travel blunders. On Sunday I missed my city bus stop in Daejeon and consequently the bus I wanted to take from the station. And then I didn’t read the schedule very carefully and took the next bus to Buyeo, thinking it traveled onward to Hongsan, only to have an old man yell at me when I didn’t get off. At least the bus driver was nice and accompanied me to the Hongsan bus, telling the driver what had happened so I didn’t have to buy a new ticket. I still felt like an infant, though. At times like this, it’s best to pretend I understand even less than I do—I certainly do know enough to know better. Yesterday I didn’t research my destination enough and ended up traveling much more than I had to. It’s time to get serious—I don’t want to spend the entirety of my remaining months stuck on buses! But I seem to be unable to think clearly. I still can’t sleep well at night. It certainly doesn’t help that my host family keeps such weird hours, watching TV, talking, eating, washing dishes at random intervals throughout the night. The sleep I do get is shallow and plagued by anxiety. Last night I dreamed I walked out of my class and accidentally stayed away for twenty minutes. By the time I’d returned, the students were gone (taken by their disgruntled teacher) and I felt so terrible—I’d just been sitting in the computer room, collecting my wits and didn’t realize so much time had passed. I have a lot of fears, apparently, and they’re turning me into a clueless zombie. Next stop…Warm Springs.