Friends (Not the TV show)

Forcing myself out of my apartment is a good thing. After dinner with a friend on Friday night, my neighbor called to tell me she had just ordered a bunch of fast food and that I should come over. I joined a group of girls sitting around a table heaped with hamburgers, fries, cheese sticks and chicken tenders. A little dog and a cat ran around her apartment attacking each other. The dog would hump the cat and bite down on the cat’s head and the cat would retaliate with its claws or a surprise attack from above. A hideously violent film played in the background, but instead of turning it off we all just continued eating, going “Ewwwww!” every time someone was sawed in half.

My neighbor, who is Korean-American, studied literature at Harvard. When I heard that, I got so excited, but she said she refuses to even look at a book for another 6 months. Hmmmm. Maybe I don’t want to go to Harvard if I’m going to want to avoid books afterward. She said that even though she went to Harvard, her last employers would have gladly traded her for a blond, fair-skinned, blue-eyed, mediocre teacher. This isn’t just supposition. She actually heard her co-teachers say they wanted to replace her with a blond teacher.


In addition to severe cramps, I have a pain in my neck that won’t go away, which I think happened as a result of uncomfortable sleep, or me doing backward somersaults on my bed. Despite these ailments, I still managed to have a good time yesterday and today with my new friends, Jihoo, who is Korean, and Nomthi, who is Zulu South African.

Nomthi is very insightful. She has a deep stare that sees past surfaces. Chilling at her place last night, she said to me, “You’re a very loving person. I get the feeling that you love people a lot, and you are very sensitive.” Yes, this is true, but I don’t think she sensed my jealousy over her huge apartment with multiple rooms and a balcony until I told her how raving jealous I was.

She stared at me knowingly and said, “You’re different. Very gentle, especially in a relationship, you’re a very soft person.” Soft is an accurate descriptor, both physically and emotionally, although my body can be toned with some more nature hikes, like I did this morning, and saying no to fast food binges with my neighbor. Hmmmmm. This is going to require discipline.

In Praise of Dreams

In my dreams
I paint like Vermeer van Delft.

I speak fluent Greek
and not just with the living.

I drive a car
that does what I want it to.

I am gifted
and write mighty epics.

I hear voices
as clearly as any venerable saint.

My brilliance as a pianist
would stun you.

I fly the way we ought to,
i.e., on my own.

Falling from the roof,
I tumble gently to the grass.

I've got no problem
breathing under water.

I can't complain:
I've been able to locate Atlantis.

It's gratifying that I can always
wake up before dying.

As soon as war breaks out,
I roll over on my other side.

I'm a child of my age,
but I don't have to be.

A few years ago
I saw two suns.

And the night before last a penguin,
clear as day.

From "Poems New and Collected" by Wislawa Szymborska

Carriage ride

Yesterday, my friend Sylvia and I rented a carriage and rode it around a park in Gwangju. She told me in Korea whenever couples ride in carriages or double bikes it is the man's job to pedal and the woman can just sit and relax. On our carriage ride, we both did the pedaling. My steering wheel didn't work, but I kept turning it anyway. We only crashed once, but we were going down narrow paths, under low branches, making sharp turns. Sylvia kept saying, "This is so romantic. I have to bring my boyfriend here." We passed some other rental carriages, but she said ours was better because we had flowers laced around the top.

We turned onto a soccer field and rode around the track while a game was in session. Men sitting in the stands crossed their arms when they saw us, a gesture that means "no," and told us to get off the track because we might get hit by the soccer balls. Men in Korea are a lot more vocal about telling women what they can't do. I didn't see any "No Carriages" sign, so I think it was okay and besides, it was none of their business. We wanted to try going uphill, but  a row of parking cones blocked the road. We decided that it might be too difficult riding the carriage uphill anyway, and that we might accidentally roll backward.

We had delicious Vietnamese food, but while we were waiting for a parking space at the restaurant, an old man cut in front of us and stole the next available spot. "This is why I hate old men," Sylvia said, and I endorsed this sentiment. Overall, a wonderful day in Gwangju with a terrific friend.