Mr Conspicuous
I have been an object of curiosity since we arrived in Busan.
It's not always bad. I had thought I would find it difficult being a tall white haired white guy in a homogeneous society of shorter, dark haired Koreans, but on the whole it hasn't bothered me.
Sometimes it is flattering. When we first arrived, I was told many times by students that I looked like Dr. House from the TV show. I am not sure I see the resemblance beyond the tall white guy thing, but I could get used to being flattered this way. When we get back to the States, I will have to watch a few episodes to find out what this comparison might mean.
We have also twice had young men with developmental impairment greet us. On the street. With considerable enthusiasm. The first time it happened, we were walking back toward the subway station from the UN Cemetery when a young man with Downs suddenly jumped into our path, shouted "Americans!" at us, and enthusiastically shook our hands. The second time, a young man greeted us from a street corner twenty feet away. He kept saying"American!" and laughing as he danced about in front of us for several hundred feet.
Today on the SuYeong subway platform as we waited for our train back from the AIM church, an older man spotted us with enthusiasm similar to the two mentioned above.
"Americans?" he asked. It is a common first question.
"Yes," we answered.
"Ah, Americans!" he said loudly, giving us a vigorous thumbs up.
Then he began a list of places to find out where we came from -- California? Philadelphia? Chicago? Boston? New York?
"New York state."
"Ah, New York!" he shouted, giving us the vigorous thumbs up again. He began singing, "Start spreading the news . . ." as the train pulled up.
Our usual tactic is for Donna to step on ahead of me and take the first seat available. She did and I decided to stand rather than wedge my way into one of the few spots. But the man, who by now I realized was clearly drunk, grabbed my elbow and steered me, pulled me, propelled me toward a seat. He waved the young people aside who had been parked there and then plunked himself down beside me.
"Ah, American!" he would repeat, "U.S.A.!" Then he would go through a series of gestures designed to indicate Americans. "Marines!" he would laugh and aim an imaginary rifle across the aisle. "Okinawa!" he would say, followed by a machine gun mime.
By now the other passengers in our car, who would normally have kept to themselves, either looking down or away, were giving me sympathetic looks. I even got a smile or two. When he began singing snippets of American pop tunes one after another, "love me tender, love me true," I could feel the entire car with me in spirit. A real sense of brotherhood was building.
For a moment as we neared our departure point, the monologue shifted. "Drink!??" he said, his face blossoming into a huge smile. "We drink!"
I knew what to do since the same thing had happened to me two weeks ago when we were riding with Chloe. That time the drunk was mute as well, so he was intent on writing his questions on his hands for Chloe to decipher and pass on to us.
"We drink!" the man said again, patting my hand. I crossed my hands to indicate No as he pulled a green bottle out of his coat. No, I indicated again.
"Soju!" he said, indicating the Korean liquor, and took a long drink himself. The mute drunk had not had a bottle with him, so he tried to press a ten thousand won note on us. Fortunately, the train stopped at that moment, the doors opened, and we rushed out.
Today as we neared Yeonsan, I stood. "I'm getting off here," I said.
As we moved into the crowd gathering for the doors to open, he waved and said "Bye-bye!"
"Bye-bye!" I returned and whole car laughed.
It was an interesting experience. It was worth having once I suppose, although I have been through it twice now. Celebrity sometimes carries an unexpected price tag.
No comments:
Post a Comment