So Sunday was Easter, and as I work at a Catholic school, we got Monday off (they take it kind of seriously: as one of my students said on Tuesday, after I'd asked him what he did yesterday during the holiday [anticipated response: "I went to the PC room" // "I sleep long time"] :: "I cried for our Lord" <-- major classroom buzzkillage, btw).
So anyway I had a long weekend and on Monday I spent most of the day shopping for things I needed in my apartment.
So I took a bus a coupla clicks north up to Mia Samgeori to hit up the E-Mart and Hyundai Department store and get my fill of 9,000 Won peanut butter and 15,000 Won oatmeal. Mission accomplished, btw. But on the way back, something interesting happened.
I was standing at this massive bus stop in the middle of the street (we have mid-road bus lanes with partitions and whatnot in my hood, holla!), but I'd moved down the stop a little bit away from where most people were congregated, because, well, I just felt like it, get over it.
Anyway, the buses all come in at once, and my bus, which I'd expected to be at the back of the line (ok, so that's the real reason I moved away), actually wound up first in line. So naturally people start pushing by each other and kicking and shoving to get to their bus, and I'm no exception. Whilst thus engaged, I somehow got in the way of this little old grandmother, who before I knew what was even happening had punched me right in the arm, presumably because my blunderings had impeded her progress.
Did I punch her back? Did I stop mid-step, mouth agape, eyes wide in contemplation of the horror I'd experienced? Did it even faze me for a moment?
Reader, it did not. And it hit me, later, once I'd boarded the bus ("hit me," get it? huh) that I'm more or less completely acclimated to living here. There was a time, oh, there was a time when getting punched by an old lady on the street would have been cause for alarm. But no more.
