Things That Are Better Than Harry Potter 7

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I Really Need To Learn Some Korean

I had to make a trip to the hospital today to get a check up. My employer requires it and I'd neglected to get one before leaving home, so I had to get that done here. Walking in there with naught but a short note quickly written by one of my co-teachers before I'd left the school to explain my presence was a bit daunting, and a reminder of how piss poor my Hangul is.

I walked in, handed my note to a receptionist who directed me toward another office. I arrived, handed the same note to a new receptionist, and things went downhill from there.

Receptionist Girl: Anyeonghasayo, derka derka derkayo, derkayo mashayo, imnica?

Wayne: Uh, what?

RG: Ill ashayo mushidoya?

W: Der....

RG: (wildly flailing her arms about now) Ill ashay mushidoya?!?

Me: Hanguk-mal upsayo... (Translation: "The Korean, it does not exist")

RG: Hangul hasayo? ("Can you do Korean?")

Me: Aneyo. Young-uh. ("No. English.")

RG: Ok. Deep sigh. ("Fine. This is gonna be rough. Yet another witless waygookin who's too lazy to learn some simple conversational Hangul has arrived to wreak havoc on my day. I shall make grand motions with my hands and guide him around as if he were a child, and whenever he's not looking directly at me I shall make some sort of comment to my chica co-workers about how hairy his arms are or something, and giggle.")

I finally figuired out that she was asking for my alien card and once I produced that things went a little more smoothly. I was measured and assessed with all of the usual medical instruments. I was taken to an ear nose and throat guy who poked around ye olde cranium and then said something like "very good!" I guess I've got a good head on my shoulders. Another doctor asked me if "you been skin disease?" to which I answered no. I had my blood drawn and my chest was X-rayed.

I also had to give an urine sample. The orderly in this room spoke the best English, or at least she was the most confident in speaking it. She handed me a small paper cup and told me to "fill to here" a little black line halfway up the side. I went across the hall to the public bathroom, found an empty stall (fortunately) and proceeded to do my business.

Before I began I was a little worried b/c I didn't really feel like I had to go, but as my piss was quickly filling up the cup and nearly overflowing the rim it occured to me that I was going to have to act, and act fast. I jerked the cup away a bit too quickly and splashed some urine on my hands, but what was of more concern at the moment was the fact that I was spraying piss all over the toilet like it was a Jackson Pollack painting. I finally steadied myself and finished in the water, cleaned up, and crossed back to the nurses' room to deposit my urine. With that, my humiliating Korean hospital experience was ended.

Let's Talk About Cow Intestines

I had dinner with Tasha last night (make that 'Mi-Sook-noona' - I asked if I could stop calling her 'Tasha' her "slave name" as I like to call it, as it was forced on her by SLP, and she told me this is how I should address her - I was a little surprised that she attached the 'noona' suffix, which is an honorific somewhat akin to 'aunt' or 'ma'am'...I thought we were closer than that, but the age disparity btw us is pretty large, and that means a lot in Korea).

Whoa, what a lengthy digression.

Anyway, as I said I had dinner with Mi-Sook noona last night, her husband Tae Yeon, and their energetic 2 year old daughter, Min Young.

After I'd gotten my phone up and running I'd texted her and she called me back. I suggested we meet for dinner some time and she said that sounded great. Tasha, excuse me, Mi-Sook noona has been my companion for my most adventurous culinary investigations here in Korea, some of them failures (the dog balls) some of them successes (we once had a really good duck meal) all of them memorable. Last night was no exception.

When I met her in Yeokgok station she was full of suggestions. One of the first she produces was bo-shin-tang, dog meat soup, but I let her know that despite my apparent eagerness last year when we consumed the meat sans the broth I was none too keen on reliving that particular nightmare. "I'll try anything once," I said, and unlike most Korean English speakers she has a knack for detecting linguistic subtlety, and did so last evening.

Her most promising non-pet-related suggestion was "yang" or mutton. That actually sounded really appetizing, the last mutton meal I'd had was a terrifically bizarre one, on Christmas Even in Beijing with Lara and Drew and a string of Pakistani belly dancers, and so I said it sounded great.

We met up with her husband and her daughter and made our way to the restaurant. It was deserted when we arrived, but we were pretty early by Korean standards (it was about 7 PM). Mi Sook noona engaged the restauranteur in a lively discussion for a moment, and then translated for me . This was not, in fact, a "yang" restaurant, this was a "tuhk yang" restaurant. "Tuhk yang" is the Korean word for the "first cow's stomach," as it was relayed to me, or to put it a little more understandably: the first part of the cow's stomach. I think I recall from my AP Biology days that the cow's stomach has four parts. What a magnificent creature, is it any wonder a significant chunk of the world worships it?

Well we were going to be a little less reverential and eat it. I said it sounded interesting and that I'd like to try it, mainly b/c there were galbi-like grills at every table, and so it appeared that whatever we'd be eating, it'd at least be cooked, and more or less cooked by the standards of those consuming it...I could let my cow intestines burn black before I put 'em in my mouth, if I so chose.

We took a seat and the matron emerged from the kitchen a moment later with a plate full of slimy pale meat. There were two kinds of 'cuts,' if you will, there were broad thin pieces that sort of looked like a slice of turkey, which had probably come from the cow's stomach line. Then there were the more intestinal looking pieces, which were small tubes about as long and thick as your pinky and which had some sort of goo packed inside of them. To wit:

She plopped them down on the grill in front of us, cut them up into bite sized pieces, and turned on the heat.

And let me tell you something: that's some damn good eating. Not only was it edible, not only was it passable, it was tasty. I'd like to have it again. You get yourself a slice of cow stomach, take a chunk from the potatoes they provide with the meat, and put a few onions on there, and that's a hella bite outta life. Quoth me after two bottles of soju: "that was flippin good, Tasha!"

So once again I am indebted to my noona for broadening my dining horizons. To look at me one might thing my horizons are broad enough as is, but Korea is a constant reminder that, well, they ain't.