The trip started off okay. I had just left Neel and some others behind at the Wolfhound’s bar. On our way to the subway, Lisbeth and I spotted the holy grail of advertisements: a 20 ft banner advertising Taco Bell’s imminent return to South Korea (It had been here briefly and left after Taco Bell execs realized Koreans didn’t know what to do with on-the-go burritos and low grade meat tacos. Lisbeth and I were floored, and paused to take pictures and engage in what I like to call “foreigner-volume-level” exclamations.
Anyway, I got on the subway, rode the line 6 to my transfer at Dongmyo station, and broke into a Korean-style light jog in order to make my train on line 1 (which was sorta fun with my Wolfhound buzz). When I got there, however, I realized this train’s last station was Cheongyangni--the station right before mine. This happens to me about 40% of the time so I was willing to let this annoyance fizzle out a little even though it was late on a weeknight and I still had to hydrate and watch Gossip Girl before bed.
So I waited for the next rain in a semi-patient state. There’s an electronic board at most of the newer subway stations that shows if there are any trains at the two previous stops before the one you’re at. As the Cheongyangni train pulled away, another one popped up on the board.
While I waited, I occupied myself by trying to find the exact subway car door exit at Dongmyo that would open up at Hoegi by the escalators. This is very important, because if I’m in the right one—the car whose door opens right by the escalators---I can exit the subway train and jump right on the moving stairs without having to deal with Koreans cutting me off, or old Ajummahs disobeying the subway escalator etiquette and riding instead of walking up the left side of the steps.
Then, three things happen in quick succession:
The next train pulls into the station.
The loudspeaker announces that this is the train’s last stop.
I throw my head back and grumble at foreigner-volume-level.
Right around the time the third train rolls around (bound for a station past mine thank God), John Kennedy calls…my friend from TN, not the president. I haven’t talked to him in at least a month, and the first words he hears amidst the static and delay of our phone call are “Ohmigod Korea”…or something like that.
I board the third train (in what I hope is the ‘money’ subway car that will let me off at the magic exit). I have to stand up because there are no seats, but I don’t mind because I’m only four stops away and I’m talking to John Kennedy. We pull up to Cheongyangni, the stop right before mine, and everyone who had to get off of the previous train crowds onto ours. This makes the subway so crowded that there is barely standing room. Also, an old man gets on.
This man is not old old, just a little old. Old enough to get off work and get smashed at dinner on Soju and Malkali with his co-workers, or old enough to be newly forced to retire and bored with nothing to do except get smashed at dinner on Soju and Malkali with his other friends who have been forced to retire. Hell, who am I kidding? After you pass high school age in Korea everybody gets smashed at dinner on Soju and Malkali!
Anyway, this guy had had a bit more than the average Korean who usually just gets on the subway, swaying slightly, and smelling like he’d dumped a whole bottle of Soju on his pants by accident when the barbecue grill sputtered at dinner and he jumped, knocking the alcohol and a pound of kimchee and possibly garlic on his lap. This guy was leaning with his forehead against the doors, and, as the subway transferred from the underground track to the above-ground railroad tracks, he started holding his mouth with his hands, pinching his lips together.
As if this wasn’t enough, a girl was standing behind me pushing against my back, saying “Chamshinmanyon” (or at least, that’s how it sounds) which is something Koreans say when they want you to move or want you to wait on something. In this case, I think she wanted me to move. But my stop was the next stop, and, in any case, even if I had wanted to move there would have been nowhere to go. Nevertheless, the girl kept pushing and saying “Chamshinmanyon, Chamshinmanyon” to anyone who would listen…and people weren’t because everyone standing near the door was, get this, getting off at the next station. Can you imagine? Why would you stand by the door if you were getting off? That doesn’t make sense. If you’re getting off, wouldn’t you stand back in the middle and wait until right before your stop comes up, then start pushing on people’s backs saying “Chamshinmanyon” assuming that you’re the only person who wants to get off at this upcoming transfer station?
So there’s Chamshinmanyon girl pushing from behind me and the not-so-old guy about to puke all over the door everyone’s about to exit out of in front of me. Also there’s John on the phone listening to me bitch about everything.
When the train finally pulls into the station I see that I have grossly miscalculated the ‘money spot’ subway car and end up about five cars away from the escalators. But that doesn’t matter because Chamshinmanyon girl pushes me from behind as we get out so that I’m propelled forward at a speed that allows me to make up for the lost ground.
Finally I manage to get through the turn styles at Hoegi without falling victim to what I like to call the ‘Korean veering Phenomenon.”
Korean Veering Phenomenon: A phenomenon that occurs in Korea, especially in public places, in which Koreans utilize a sixth sense that allows them to detect when a foreigner is approaching them from behind at a pace quicker than the pace they are walking. This sense also allows them to detect the angle and direction from which they are approaching. Koreans often use this knowledge to veer gradually toward the right or left such that the foreigner runs out of space and can no longer pass them. You know KVP has occurred when you see a foreigner walking closely behind a Korean watching TV on their cell phone. (I myself experienced KVP the other day when I was trying to catch a subway train and had to round a corner to go down some steps. There was a large crowd of people coming up the steps in the opposite direction. There was just enough room between the wall and the crowd of people to squeeze around the corner and make it down the steps, but an old man (ajoshi) came out of nowhere and KVPed me into the wall. I ended up sort of side shuffling along with my arms spread wide until I made it around the corner and was able to run down the stairs)
That night after dinner in Itaewon, the missed subway cars, the almost-puking guy, and the Chamshinmanyon girl, I managed to make it out of the turn styles at Hoegi station without falling victim to KVP. Usually after this, I’m home free. All I have to do is walk a straight line the twenty feet or so out the door.
So remember, I was talking on the phone to John K., walking my straight line, when a small girl/woman runs into my left shoulder. Her head’s down. I can’t see her face. She makes no move to go around me. I think, “if I keep walking in a straight line and this girl keeps moving forward in her own direction, she will come unstuck from me and go on her way.” Because that’s what we were: stuck. It’s like she wasn’t a human but some sort of rag doll programmed to walk a certain way and then the programmer died and forgot to do give her a brain. (okay that’s harsh, but still).
I keep walking forward, and she sort of let’s herself be carried along with me. Her head’s on my shoulder and we kind of walk together for three or four steps. Then her boyfriend (I guess) swoops in and kind of ushers her away, saying something I assume was an apology.
Hey kids, its just another day in Korea. An especially bad one, and one that can be avoided if you avoid the subway, but a normal day nonetheless.
I had other stuff to tell you guys besides this story, but I got so bogged down by everything I forgot.
Here’s a list of things random happenings:
1.A 3rd grader stood up in class and asked “May I speak Korean now?”
2.There is a character in our 3rd grade textbook named “Lisa” who is an African American cartoon girl with dread locks. In the CD rom accompaniment to the book, however, the actress that plays “Lisa” is Indian (from India).
3.I guess I’ve been sleeping weird lately. When I stood up to go to the bathroom the other night I immediately dropped to the floor because my foot was asleep. Weird.
2 comments:
This was an amazing post! Soooo true life. KVP = genius (on your part. not theirs. maybe theirs?)
I really like your writing style, Malia. Will stop by more often!
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