"It is an impressive day!"

I taught my host mother the word “impressive” today, and we used it over and over. Even though I haven’t been great at this whole blogging thing, I feel that this is a Saturday I want to remember. There were no big whizzes or bangs, but it was sweet and wholesome and so good.

I decided to tell my narrative with some bullet points because I typed out my day until 4pm to find that it was already two pages. I guess I haven’t outgrown my wordiness yet.

• The day has an inauspicious start at 7:15 with my host mom knocking, panicked, on my door because she thinks I need to get ready for school. I remind her that I don’t go to school on Saturdays. She is apologetic and lets me sleep.
• I wake up 3 hours later, ready to face the remainder of my lazy morning with blog readings and music searchings, occasionally getting up to practice the dance combination I learned in jazz class this week. Then, with the apartment to myself, I do what I normally do on Saturdays at home or at school: blast my music and set to cleaning. Wanting badly to feel something familiar, I wash the dishes while singing along to The Bay City Rollers and hop-scotch to the roar of the vacuum.
• Lunch with mom = kimbab. WIN
• Mom agrees to help me get my bike fixed. The tiny woman then proceeds to nearly single-handedly shove my dirty, rusty, gigantic beach crusier bike into the back of her car. It requires twisting the front wheel entirely around and moving the kick stand in either direction to fit inside the door, but she manages handily. At this point, I teach her the word impressive. To complete this episode, the bike is unloaded by a adjussi (older man) at the bike shop with a voice like Mickey Mouse. He tells me that it would cost about $10 to replace the tire. YES.
• Armed with the word “impressive,” we head to the hipper side of town for the rest of our Mom and daughter date afternoon.
• I meet an English-speaking FILIPINA woman! She is actually an English teacher, and since I am easily identified as a foreigner (“your eyes, nose and skin” she explains), she dives into “Where are you from?” without the ceremony of a “Hello!” Somehow, just talking to this woman who is also a little bit of an “other” from my motherland, even though she married a Korean, makes me feel more at home while simultaneously reminding me of my mother in California and how much she misses me.
• Mom and daughter order drinks and a waffle at the 10th coffeeshop I’ve seen in Gongju so far. The waffle is not the plain but hearty Belgian I imagine, but a banana split on a hot and fluffy piece of carb-loaded heaven. We spend the rest of our coffee date talking about how happy we are to live together while I show her pictures of my Gongju friends on facebook.
• A stroll along the river gives us an opportunity to view the festival happenings and take pictures.
• We journey to the older, more central downtown area to buy gifts for Chuseok and some difficult to find items with my mom's help.
• Off to pick up bike from the shop and host sister from a field trip!
• Dinner at a “chestnut foods” restaurant finds me still full from the waffle and its trimmings, so the blandness of the chestnut gelatin does not bother me.
• Our happy family of mother and daughters traipses around the Gongju fortress. The historical site is decked out with lights and paper sculptures for the festival’s kick-off. The temporary bridge across the river isn’t finished, but we can still see the floating stage with a dozen models of Baekje warriors on horses. Camera battery dies. :(
• Market shopping and people watching the festival market! We wander through one of the many천완 (dollar store) booths and watch some of what my host sister calls “beggar shows.” One troup had an Asian Raggedy Anne vibe to it and featured a chubby young man in a wig and gingham dress that he stripped off to reveal a glittery swimsuit underneath. If this were not enough to gather attention, he kicks one of his shoes off at offending audience members who jump while a discreet elastic brings the slipper safely back to his feet. Other stages house Korean Elvis impersonators (later, he was also in a sequined swimsuit) and a woman in a rainbow gypsy costume. My sister laughs the most at a man in drag as a flamboyant traditional Korean peasant woman who cries for his mother and father. The song ends with his drinking soju and smoking at his parents’ make shift tomb on stage.
• We stop at Baskin Robbins for my first fresh ice cream cone since coming to Korea. While I love Goo Goo cones and milkshakes from CapriSun like containers, this is a cold scoop of home in a cone.
• Now, I’m watching Korean TV with my host sister and doing some long overdue blogging.

Impressive? Probably not. But it feels like enough days like this could make Korea feel like home.

Fish faces at restaurant near the riverfront