생일축하합니다 (it reads better if you translate it after reading the post)

I woke up this morning to a knock on my door.

Suh-ti-bun. question, question, I'm sorry. How old are you?

26.

Twenty six. Okay okay. Goodbye.

I've been asked that question so many times since moving to Korea that I didn't bother to think about why he would choose this time to ask me that. It just seemed like he needed to know. It was time for me to get up anyway. We are going to tour Seoul today, and I am leaving for Daegu tomorrow.

I feel the need to take a moment to prepare myself for the full-frontal invasion that is to be breakfast today. My stomach isn't awake yet, and telling a Korean that I don't normally eat breakfast is a mistake that I have no desire to repeat. You get a similar reaction to how an American reacts to the fact that they eat a soup made from dog meat here. It's not that I mind so much the type of food I eat. In fact I have grown extremely accustomed to it. The problem with Hyounjun's mother's cooking os one of volume. The sheer number of things she expects me to eat is staggering. I have never tried so hard, nor failed so badly at having a "masculine" appetite. It's just not in me anymore.

It actually took me a while to adjust to the sight of it.

Koreans normally eat fish, rice, kimchi, and some sort of soup for breakfast. Their breakfasts are a lot like our lunches and dinners. The bakeries in this country are not usually open in the early mornings, and the people who work in such establishments usually stare at me for a good amount of time if I buy a pastry or doughnut before noon. All this to say, I was VERY surprised to see a cake in the middle of the table.

There were seven candles in it.

Hyounjun's father knows how to sing 'Happy Birthday' in English, while his mother only speaks Korean. I don't know how they knew. Hyounjun must have told them. I usually don't mention my birthday, since it's so close to Christmas, and everyone is pretty tired from the holidays. I think it's been several years since someone has bought me a cake, and even longer since they sang the 'happy birthday' song. In fact, I've never heard it in Korean.

Happy birthuh day Suh-ti-bun. I love you.

I love you too.

Hyounjun called later that day. He said happy birthday, and then his mom asked him to say something to me.

Stephen? Yeah, my mom says to give her your dirty laundry so she can wash it before you go. Trust me, you don't want to fight her.

I don't think anyone has done my laundry since I was sixteen. I can't believe of all the things se wanted to say to me, that was the thing that was most important.

Hyounjun mama. Suh-ti-bun mama. It's okay.

She's been studying me like a hawk, trying to figure out what I like and don't like. She pours me water with my meal (most Koreans don't drink water when they're eating) in the cup with a picture of a bear on it (I like bears). Breakfast was 잡채, 불고기, and of course, cake.

이것먹어. 많이 먹어.

We went off to see Seoul, Hyounjun's father and I. She buttoned up my sweater and smothed out the wrinkles, adjusting my scarf and making sure my hat was on straight.

Handsome boy, Suh-ti-bun. Handsome boy.

I think she's probably the reason why a lot of Korean men have unrealistic expectations of their wives, or their girlfriends. If I grew up in this culture, I would be sooooo spoiled. I still find it so strange to be loved so much by someone who barely even knows me, and can't really communicate with me at all.

I mentioned earlier this month that I don't have a lot of pictures of my face on this blog. Actually I don't think I have any. This one seems worthy though. This is me and my 엄마.

사랑해요.