Dear Friends and Family,

My friend Cathy keeps telling me that “All Korea loves you…” to tease me about how many lucky experiences I’ve so far experienced in Korea: the free computer cord, a cell phone for half the price, the city tour picnic… but I must confess that one of the truest pieces of luck that I’ve had is Cathy deciding that I should be her friend. Cathy also teaches English Conversation at TFLHS and during my first week, she invited me to walk with her to the corner store. I was game and we walked hand and hand to the store where she treated me to a mug, and never immune to bribery, and I’ve basked in her friendship ever since. Cathy was the inspiration behind the baseball game, Cathy was the first guest in my apartment, it was Cathy who helped me acquire my cell phone for half price and then signed Korean citizenship to the contract, it was Cathy who provided me an opportunity to dip my toes into the East Sea, and it was Cathy who invited me to spend Chuseok with herself, her mother, her boyfriend (when he was available), and her younger brother. Her father, sadly, died when she was young. Although I’m doubtful that all Korea loves me, I am beyond lucky that Cathy adores me.

After Cathy and I spent the day in Pohang at the pada, I spent two nights with Cathy’s family. Cathy and her family reside in a flat, somewhere in Daegu, on the 12th Floor of a tall, off-white Building labeled “105” that I couldn’t again find to save my soul. Hmm… I use the British term “flat” but I suppose that the American term condominium would be more appropriate. Anyway, their condo is a really good size: a master bedroom suite, two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, dining area, and the outside glassed off areas provide space for a utility room, for plant growing, and for clothes drying. Although their condo is a smaller living space than the equivalent American suburban house, it is not at all devoid of comfort. I slept in Cathy’s room, on her bed heated by a warm mat (a seat warmer for the bed?), right next to the family computer. Unfortunately, despite Cathy’s stellar efforts, I don’t speak Korean and Cathy’s mother doesn’t speak English, so there were large gaps in our ability to communicate. That said, Cathy’s mother was welcoming and really sweet and I became even more disposed to like her when I realized that she reminded me a bit of my Aunt DoSook.

On the day before Chuseok, while Cathy’s mother prepared for the feast, we girls lounged a lot more than was probably decent. Although we roused ourselves when Cathy’s boyfriend (nicknamed “Bear”) visited and then we all went to E-Mart to do some last minute holiday shopping. E-Mart was crowded but surprisingly bearable. When we returned, Bear departed and we girls lounged some more although at one point, Cathy and her brother endeavored to teach me a traditional Korean card game called Hwatu. I managed, startlingly, to win every round, even when we weren’t playing a practice game. Eventually Cathy’s mother called us card players to assist her. We shaped pork dough into cakes, coated them in flour and then Cathy’s mother fried the little cakes. I cannot recall what they were called – but, surprise! – I thought they were yummy. Next, Cathy’s mother fried up the pajon (green onion pancakes). I was impressed to find that Cathy, her mother, and her brother can all flip a large pajon by tossing into the air. I demurred when they offered to let me try. Anyway, after several of the pajon were fried, we ate them, which was a mite startling for a girl who is accustomed to the notion that we must save every morsel for the feast. I fell instantly in love with the pajon – especially with the little bits of octopus that Cathy’s mom added. The pancakes had an appealing richness to them that I now suspect that this is rice flour… oh, just thinking about pajon makes me hungry!

Later that afternoon, Cathy and her brother and I went to Baskin and Robbins and eagerly demolished our ice cream cones before we arrived at our intended destination: a beautiful park. The park was long and featured a man-made, tucked against a cliff on the farside and bordered by roses on the nearside. The day was warm, the sun was slanted and autumnal golden, the trees were touched with color, and the park was filled with children and grandparents. We ambled and talked and then returned to partake in more pajon and watch Pirates of the Caribbean.

The next morning, October 6th, I awoke rather curious about this Chuseok thing. Honestly, I was a mite apprehensive as I didn’t have a clue what the “ceremony” involved and in fact, it could’ve been the word ceremony that was freaking me a bit out. Cathy’s mother and brother left early to partake in a morning ceremony while Cathy and I showered and pulled out the special dishes, the table, and screen for our ceremony. We then mischievously pattered into her Mom’s room to play dress-up – Cathy’s yellow and pink hanbok from 6th grade still fits her (!!!!), although she gravely informed me that it is too short. We then wedged me up into her mother’s hanbok: first I slipped my arms through an item that resembled a fluffy apron but turned out to be a long, dark blue silk skirt held up by shoulder straps. Next I slipped my arms through the sleeves of the silk jacket and Cathy tied me in. It didn’t fit quite right and the two of us admired ourselves in the mirror and pulled out the camera to take pictures.

(For the record, this picture became somehow mangled during the posting process - must fix)

But after we posed 100 different ways in our hanboks, I realized that Cathy meant to wear the hanbok for the ceremony and that I was to wear her mother’s hanbok. I found myself deeply dismayed at the notion of meeting people that I do not know, whose language I do not speak, whose culture I do not understand, as if I were trying to become one of them. I couldn’t really explain it but while I thought that hanbok pretty, I just wanted to be me, in “my native” costume. Cathy giggled and sighed and helped me out of the hanbok – but she very prettily wore hers for the entire ceremony.

Cathy’s mom and brother returned and immediately business of the setting of the table began. First the fruit and juju beans, raw chestnuts, mandarin oranges, Asian pears, apples, grapes and bananas were set up in the first row. The sweets were follwed by tofu, the pajon, fried sweet potato, an impressive plate of seafood including a whole octopus, fried white fish cakes, a dried fish, a whole fried fish, a whole chicken, something pork, the pork cakes that we fried the day previous and the Song Pyun rice cakes. Later a smaller table was set in front of the creaking large table and candles, traditional alcohol, rice and incense were added. The ceremony was set.




















Soon one of Cathy’s uncles and several of her cousins arrived. Cathy’s mother put the finishing touches on the table while Cathy laid a bamboo mat in front of the table and added her father’s name to the list of ancestors to worship. Then without ado, the ceremony began. We women stood in the wings of the living room while the men gathered in a half circle, leaving a healthy amount of space in front of the altar. The incense was lit and together the men went down on their hands and knees and bowed. Then one of Cathy’s cousins stepped forward, descended to his knees before the table, bowed twice, then touched one of the dishes. Then he rejoined the group of men and the entire group of men again bowed. And then Cathy’s brother, as eldest man of the household, stepped forward bowed twice and touched the next dish. It was rather touching to watch his 19-year-old smiley countenance vanish behind the veneer of manhood during the ceremony. Anyway, when he was done, he rejoined the men and they all bowed. Then it was Cathy’s uncle’s turn and so it went until the ancestors had been fed. Then the men made one more set of bows and the ceremony was done. I could tell that the ceremony was taken very seriously but what I couldn’t say is how everyone felt about it. And what did it all mean? Personally, I wasn’t terribly moved by the experience and although I appreciate and respect the concept of ancestor worship, I cannot think it right that women are excluded – especially after having witnessed Cathy’s mother’s hours of reparation. In the end, my curiosity was more whetted than satisfied. We removed the food from the ceremonial plates, moved the table to center of the living room, and proceeded to eat the feast of the family’s ancestors. Conversation was a bit awkward, I suspect that my presence was a part of that, but this had the feel of an obligatory family gathering rather than a fun one and I’m certain that feelings from mostly obligatory family gatherings are the same world over. Eventually the men departed to perform another Chuseok ceremony (some men must attend several ceremonies a day) and the remaining family departed. When it was just us, Cathy’s brother took himself off for a nap, just as “Bear” arrived. I was shooed from the kitchen and so I packed up my backpack to return home, as I was scheduled to visit the a city called Mungyeong with a city vicinity tour bus group the next day.

We then went to the Daegu Arboretum. I believe that we all expected and rather hoped that the place would be beautiful and quiet; however it turned out to only be beautiful. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about the place and we walked around and took pictures. My favorite pictures were taken in a field of wild flowers. Isn’t Cathy’s mother lovely?
















And then I was kindly driven back to my apartment. As we turned on to the main road near my apartment, one of the largest full moons that I’ve ever seen in my life was hanging low on the horizon. It was beautiful and I was very excited to see it. We arrived at my apartment and I was handed two bags stuffed with Chuseok food leftovers. I was excited and very touched to find out that Cathy’s mother was worried that I might not have enough food in the fridge for the remainder of the holiday, so she packed me enough for a few days (!) and even included some of her delicious homemade kimchi.

My apartment building and streets outside were holiday hushed and I walked into my apartment, put my bags down and thought “I’m lonely.” Yet it felt good to be home. Later, I went for a walk to enjoy and photographically capture the moon.





















My friend told me that on Chuseok, everyone makes a wish on the moon. So to end my Chuseok celebration, that warm night I sent my dearest wishes to the moon....

With great fondness your ancestors and you,

Laura

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Pajon - Korean Green Onion Pancake

1/4 small green onion, outside skins shed
1/4 bundle of watercress
1 oz pork
1/2 cup sea mussels
1/2 cup rice powder
1 egg
water
pinch of salt
dipping sauce oil or non-stick pan

1) Trim the green onions and watercress. For easier frying, cut into 4" pieces. You could also follow traditional Korean method of frying them at their full length - but I've not advanced to that level.

2) Thinly slice pork and finely chop sea mussels.

3) Mix rice powder and salt in a bowl. Add egg and a water until it you have a not too thick, not too thin batter.

4) If you sliced the greens, add them to the batter and pour the batter into a medium hot non-stick pan. If you have left the greens at full length, spread the greens in the pan in already hot pan and gently pour the batter on top and spread the batter throughout the greens.

5) As one side of the pajon cooks, spread the pork and mussel evenly on the uncooked side. When the first side of the pajon has been lightly browned, flip it over and fry 'til golden. Use your previous American pancake frying experience - it will stand you in good stead.

6) When done, use kitchen sizzors to slice it into bite-sized pieces. Eat it with Korean metal chopsticks (I supppose wood will do in a pinch) and vinegar dipping sauce.

Vinegar Dipping Sauce
4 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp sesame salt (could also roast sesame seeds and add a pinch of salt)
2 tsp vinegar
chopped green onion & garlic to taste

Mix.

Eat.

Enjoy!