Mark was not exaggerating that he grew up on dirt floors. Their house was a very rural and traditional Korean home. Halabaje (grandfather) and halmonie (grandmother) moved to the house that we visited after their kids were grown. It is down the street from their original house and the floors were covered. As soon as we arrived all members of my family went into the bedroom and changed their clothes into more comfortable "country" clothes. Elijah stepped into the kitchen to start cooking lunch and did not leave for almost the entire time that we were visiting. Many members of Marks family arrived and I was introduced to brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews. There was not much translating and therefore if I did not speak Korean, very little was said to me.
For lunch we had pigs feet. I had heard that Koreans like to enjoy pigs feet and was secretly praying that I would never encounter a situation when I would have to "enjoy" them also. Coming to Korea as a person that does not eat red meat and introducing many different kinds of meat into my diet was a personal challenge that I have overcome. The pigs feet made me feel like I was on the television show Fear Factor. Elijah was at the end of the table pointing at her face trying to tell me that I need to eat lots of pigs feet because they are good for your skin. (I looked it up online and studies show that pigs feet are a superfood- great for skin!) The gooey texture of the feet was the most difficult part for me to deal with. The feet were boiled and put in a soup with ginseng root. The broth of the soup was very good, but I needed to force every bite of the foot down. You know that something is difficult to eat when you are washing it down with big bites of super spicy kimchi and gulps of lukewarm corn water. But I did it with a smile.
After lunch I went to a rice mill with Heewon and Mark for the first step of our songpyeon (a traditional Chusoek food) adventure. I will profile that process in another post. My day was filled with lots of songpyeon, random Konglish conversations and children running away from me in fear because I am a foreigner. It also included my host father telling me that I should not read because it will make me bored (despite the fact that I assured him many times that I am reading a great book), my host mother asking me over and over in Korean if I am bored, yet denying any attempt I made to help her in the kitchen and the children running around shooting BB guns outside.
As a foreign female in her twenties, I am in a tough situation with my role in the family. I am not Korean and do not speak Korean, so cooking like a woman my age would is out of question. I am not a child, so I do not spend too much time with the children. I am sometimes sent to spend time with the men, while the women cook, but I do not smoke cigarettes, so I tried to avoid some to those situations also. Thank goodness for books. I make judgment calls all day long about when is a good time to be a cultural ambassador and when is a good time to take a step back and let everyone be. I don't think that there is a role for foreigners, so I am trying very hard to create my own place. So far I am learning that it is best to buy children ice cream, go for walks with the men and children after dinner and offer a thousand times to help cook. I was given one task- to peel the shells off of a hundred quail eggs.
I was told at dinner that I would be sleeping in the "wife room." Mark's parent's house had only four rooms, the kitchen, one extra bedroom/tv room, their bedroom, and the main room where the fridge and kimchi freezer are. Tables were set up on the floor in this room for all meals. As I sat on the floor in the main room I wondered where the "wife room" would be. I ended up sleeping in the grandparents room on a mat with my host mother and next to her sister-in-law and child. The children and their dads slept in the main room and the grandparents slept in the extra room. I fell asleep to a woman breastfeeding beside me and woke up to my host father telling me to go wash my face and go put on make-up.
After breakfast the men changed into suites and so I went and changed into a skirt and tights. I was startled when I came out of the room and the women were all yelling at me in Korean to go change. I had to wear my clothes from Friday for a second day, despite my hike in them the previous day, and had no idea why. Just as I sat down to read a little I was told to grab my camera and come outside. I was put in a car and told that we were going to the mountain. "The mountain" is a very loose term considering 70% of Korea is covered in mountains.
I learned on our drive that we were going to visit the tombs of my host great-grandparents. Only the men, children and women that were not cooking attending this outing. When we arrived at the mountain, we hiked up to two tombs, and I noticed that my host uncle was carrying a box. I thought that maybe there were flowers in the box? Next to the tomb, a mat was unrolled, and the box was unloaded. Of course, food and soju! It was 10:00am and we had just finished breakfast. The food was set out and the family prayed together, a Hail Mary and an Our Father, followed by a bow to the ground. Then, grandfather poured a cup of soju on each of the graves! We all sat down and enjoyed the food together. Just when I think that I cannot eat anymore, they come out with more and more food.
We stayed at that grave for about twenty minutes and then we headed on to the next. We said the same prayers, but did not eat at the second sight. Third, we were onto a "water grave." After a quick stop for some ice cream, we arrived at the lake where some of the family members ashes had been spread. The ritual was performed and we were onto our next stop. At the next site, great grandfather's brother, Heewon found a four leaf clover. The next stop, another brother, was behind a farm. This was not like any typical farm. This was a pig farm where dogs were raised on the side and sold to restaurants. I know they eat dog in Korea, but another hope of mine was that I would never have to actually see the dogs that they eat. Tons of puppies and big dogs all caged together next to piles to trash, animal cruelty at its best. The dog farm was our last stop and we returned home for lunch. At lunch the soup was so spicy that tears rolled down my cheeks. After at least trying it a few times and the physical sign of tears that it was too hot, I was excused from eating it.
After lunch we departed for Hongsam, my host mother's hometown.
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