Tuesday, April 30

While having lunch one saturday, my older brother and I were sharing when we came to a startling discovery. my brother was startled, because he didn't know about my summer of '96. i was startled, because i thought i had told him about it, and that he knew the story. my friends enjoyed the story and our mutual surprise, and laughed pretty hard. if it had belonged to anyone else, i would have laughed longer and harder than any of them, and would not have believed a word of it. alas, it is all true, and it happens to be my story. it is too long to remember in one sitting, and so it will be written over several days, in parts, one episode at a time.

A BASKIN ROBBINS SUMMER (Part 1)

I woke up, sore, staring at the strange ceiling. It took a while for me to process what my senses were telling me. I was not in my familiar, soft bed. I was lying on something pretty darn hard. On a yo (Korean mattress), in fact. I willed myself to get up. The room was small, empty, with blank, whitewashed walls. A big wardrobe was in the corner, where all the bedding and blankets would go into. After folding everything, I grabbed my toiletries and opened the door, into the living room.

It was the summer after my senior year in high school. I had perhaps the most stressful yet fun year in my life to that point. A year of turmoil included running for and winning a school office (student body historian) in a school of nearly 4,000 students, taking nearly all AP courses (AP Chem, AP English, AP Calc, AP Art History, AP Government, and orchestra), applying for college, and being very active in school clubs. I had slowly transformed myself from a reclusive bookworm and general nerd, a sterling reputation I had maintained for…all my life, to social butterfly, in one year. OK, maybe that’s a stretch. I didn’t become a social butterfly. But no longer was I the consummate nerd.

That was also the year that I had pursued a girl for the first time. And the first time I failed. I was not wholly unhappy with the experience, however. I was aglow with emotions I had never felt before, positive and negative. It was a thrill to have such an intense crush, to be bold and do things I would never have dared to before. I focused all my thoughts and energy on this girl. Alas, it was not meant to be, and for the right reasons. She was wiser than I. We parted, still friends.

High school was over, and I was ready to start a new phase in my life. A phase that would cultivate the revolution within, and bring forth my true self.

My parents wanted to send me to Korea that summer of ’96, for several reasons. First, they didn’t want me to forget that I was Korean. Second, they didn’t want me to lose what grasp of the Korean language I had, and hopefully, thought I would get better. I was at a stage where I could speak Korean for everyday living, but when conversation turned philosophical or truly meaningful, I would convert to English. The fact was, I didn’t like to speak Korean, simply because I couldn’t express myself fully. I spoke it at home, because my parents asked me to. They hoped that Korea would change me. The third reason was my ailing paternal grandmother. She had raised us while my parents had worked, during my childhood. My father could not go to see her at that point, and he wanted me to go in his stead.

Most of my trip that summer was pretty uneventful. I did learn more Korean, and I did appreciate Korea more. Mostly, I missed having a 2 quart carton of OJ every day and the humidity free summers of the US.

(stay tuned for Part II)


yakob at 3:02 AM

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