The email ended with, "I see we are expecting a typhoon. It is a little earlier this year than last. Take care."
Instead of taking care, they took a taxi to church. They listened to a vehement Korean reverend sprinkle his sermon with bits of English. It reminds her of a Far Side cartoon where a dog listens to her owner speak: "Blah blah blah blah, Ginger, blah, blah, blah." Except here it was "Pojanmacha beondaegi pajeon dabotap What the Lord wills seokguram bulguk-sa shupojirisan cheonghakdong."
Strangely enough, it works for her.
They are a two-religion family, so there is still more church to come. They mapquest the next church, then they proceed to wander the streets. They ask a motorcyclist-delivery guy [side note: McDonald's has motorcyclist delivery guys here; this one wasn't a McD's guy, though] for directions. He gives them very precise directions--in Korean. They try to follow along, but after several blocks of wandering through a bizarre neighborhood of arcades and bars, they end up asking another shopkeeper for directions. He not only gives them precise directions, he takes out his map, then writes everything down--in Korean--and staples it all together.
They head off again, but within two blocks, they are overtaken by the first motorcyclist delivery guy, who directs them once again.
Have I mentioned yet that it was raining? That not only was it raining, it was a typhoon? No? Feel the dripping umbrellas, and hear the squishing feet in sandals.
They walk further, with even less idea of where to go. They stop once again, and this time, they ask two young Koreans for help. The two young Koreans take pity on them, and walk with them until they come upon a corner and are uncertain where to go. A western couple walks by. She decides to follow them.
The Koreans come along too, just to make certain they deliver their poor lost bedraggled American family to their destination.
And there it is. Not just the church, but the temple, too. They're about 35 minutes late, but they are there, and that must count for something, because a general authority was there, and they were invited to stay for lunch. Real bibimbap, and real rice cake.
Instead of taking care, they took a taxi to church. They listened to a vehement Korean reverend sprinkle his sermon with bits of English. It reminds her of a Far Side cartoon where a dog listens to her owner speak: "Blah blah blah blah, Ginger, blah, blah, blah." Except here it was "Pojanmacha beondaegi pajeon dabotap What the Lord wills seokguram bulguk-sa shupojirisan cheonghakdong."
Strangely enough, it works for her.
They are a two-religion family, so there is still more church to come. They mapquest the next church, then they proceed to wander the streets. They ask a motorcyclist-delivery guy [side note: McDonald's has motorcyclist delivery guys here; this one wasn't a McD's guy, though] for directions. He gives them very precise directions--in Korean. They try to follow along, but after several blocks of wandering through a bizarre neighborhood of arcades and bars, they end up asking another shopkeeper for directions. He not only gives them precise directions, he takes out his map, then writes everything down--in Korean--and staples it all together.
They head off again, but within two blocks, they are overtaken by the first motorcyclist delivery guy, who directs them once again.
Have I mentioned yet that it was raining? That not only was it raining, it was a typhoon? No? Feel the dripping umbrellas, and hear the squishing feet in sandals.
They walk further, with even less idea of where to go. They stop once again, and this time, they ask two young Koreans for help. The two young Koreans take pity on them, and walk with them until they come upon a corner and are uncertain where to go. A western couple walks by. She decides to follow them.
The Koreans come along too, just to make certain they deliver their poor lost bedraggled American family to their destination.
And there it is. Not just the church, but the temple, too. They're about 35 minutes late, but they are there, and that must count for something, because a general authority was there, and they were invited to stay for lunch. Real bibimbap, and real rice cake.
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