Girl Vs Korea

Donghae, South Korea is a medium sized city that rests south of the bustling markets and department stores of Gangneung on the east coast. I’d been living here for 6 months; the looming mountains were nothing more than the shadow of apartment buildings now. On this particular day, there was a mist that kissed their peaks and barreled down the hills like a curtain of gray. The ajummas (middle aged Korean women) took no more notice of it than dipping their low jacket hoods and rearranging the vegetables they’d stacked along the side of the road for selling.
Caterina pulled me along just as she pulled her own son behind her. I jumped to avoid stepping on the ajummas’ bags of fresh garlic, peanuts and greens scattered along the sidewalk. She was taking me to her home where her grandmother was busy cooking me homemade Korean beef and cutting fresh fruit from her garden. We stumbled off the uneven streets and into the black gated yard that consisted of hundreds of potted plants all lined up neatly one after the other like a hardware store’s garden hut in summer.
Once our shoes were taken off and Caterina had told me to relax on the wide open floor that was their family room, I sat down cross legged while she hurried to help her grandmother. I could just barely see into the kitchen that was full of huge pans and floor tables. Her grandmother hovered over a rice cooker. When she popped the lid, a wave of steam spilled out onto the floor and up the walls until it hit the ceiling. She scooped out the sticky rice and handed it to her husband. He took the bowl and came to sit next to me in the other room. Since he didn’t know any English, and my limited Korean vocabulary didn’t prepare me for this type of interaction, I diverted my gaze so as to not be rude and stared at a set of pictures on a table. We were quiet for a long time while Caterina and her grandmother cooked.
I felt him reach out and touch the back of my arm, just above the bend of my elbow. Turning, I saw he held a glob of rice between his silver chopsticks. He was holding it out to me. I opened my mouth and allowed him to plop the glob between my lips. I smiled and bowed my head, recognizing the meaning behind his actions. He respected me, as much as for my company as for my silence. Though I hadn’t said a single word to this man, I felt accepted. Regardless of language barriers, I know I will always have friends in Korea.