I came home at 9 p.m. after seven straight hours of class that evening, and saw two plates of omerice (omelet over mixed rice) on the table for me and Jimin. I like omerice, so I dug in hungrily only to discover that anchovies were mixed in with my rice. Er! Doesn't she know by now that I don't like anchovies? I thought. I picked at the egg part but couldn't bring myself to stomach another spoon full of anchovy-mixed-rice. I made myself a toasted PB and J instead. It took me quite a while before I figured out that her anchovy idea was probably a direct response to my comment about salty fish. Suddenly, I felt terrible about my inward rash reaction.
Wednesday's lunch menu was kimbob. (If you don't know kimbob, just think california roll with Korean insides like radish, crab meat, egg, and greens.) Generally, I like kimbob. I'm sure an attempt to recover from the flop of the omerice. The only problem is the kimbob was stuffed with that cheap individually-wrapped cheese singles, which anyone who really knows me knows that it's one of the only foods that I can't stand. The way it flips and flops like a flat piece of fat grosses me out, and I've never been real impressed with the flavor either. What could I do? I tried to eat a few pieces, but wound up picking the cheese parts out with my chopsticks for the rest. Hyunsuk couldn't help but notice,..."Sally, cheese...no?"
How could I explain? Last time, she made kimbob with cheese--it was the good cheese--the real kind--in my book, and it was delicious. "ummm...no, Mian hamnida." (I'm sorry.)
In one of my classes, we've been reading a story called "Mice and Beans." It's about this Latina grandma, Rosa Maria, who prepares a birthday party for her grand daughter, Little Catalina. But as she runs errands, cleans the house and cooks a special meal, little mice keep stealing things from her, even the mousetraps she sets for them. It's a fun story with lots of beautiful pictures and several Spanish phrases such as "no importa," "feliz cumpleanos," "frijoles," and "enchiladas." I thought it was the perfect opportunity for me to introduce a different pallet of flavors to my students.
I was out of salsa though, so I planned to go to E-Mart this week, but somehow the distance kept me from ever wanting to bad enough. (For the most part, I've enjoyed the public transportation, but I'm finally missing the convenience of a car and of my life in Iowa, when everything I need is just a five minute trip away.) Due to some recent schedule changes, I had extra time this afternoon and decided to make salsa myself. The mart had everything I needed, except the green chiles, which I discovered was an important ingredient. The final product smelled delicious, but tasted...well...not bad. I made another batch of those cheesy enchiladas and set out the food for my students, proclaiming a celebration for Little Catalina's birthday.
The smell of the fresh salsa consumed the classroom air. To me, it was a lovely aroma, but I think I saw one of the girls hold her nose at first. They tried the enchiladas...and ate them politely, but I can't pretend they liked 'em. Never got a clear reaction, but I'm pretty sure the girls were struggling with each bite. Boys eat most anything, but I don't think it was their thing either. Don't get me wrong! They were delicious by my standards. I tried to resist feeling unappreciated and offended, but I felt it anyway. I'd spent a good chunk of my afternoon preparing a new experience for my sheltered students, but they didn't seem to enjoy it like I wanted them to.
I came home today, feeling a little bit down. Not a great day for me. When I opened the door to the apartment, I cringed at the unfamiliar and awful smell that's been reeking up the kitchen for days. The refrigerator, which I opened to store the leftovers, let out even more unusual fumes. Then, without laughing, I realized the irony. My aversion to anchovies should not and does not diminish my appreciation of Hyunsuk's effort to please me with salty fish. Why did I take it so personally that they didn't like the smell of the salsa or the taste of the enchilada? My students' distaste for salsa and enchiladas hurt because of the effort I made to impress them with something special. At 12, they may not yet be mature enough to appreciate my effort anyway, but... well,... maybe I can appreciate my own effort.
Maybe I will tomorrow when I eat the leftovers.
I actually thanked God this week that it's okay to have preferences. Differences are not matters of right and wrong. They're just differences.
And speaking of differences, ideas about cleanliness and sanitation are so different here. I'm not kidding. Two full plates of that cheese kimbob sat out for more than 24 hours covered only by seran wrap. Then this afternoon, I saw JiMin frying up the kimbob with a little oil like it was no matter at all. I mean,...it's common knowledge in the states that cheese must be refrigerated. (Then again, not sure individual slices are really cheese at all.) Maybe it's ok when it's fried. But the truth is food that we always refrigerate gets left out all the time to be eaten later in this house. It reminds me of the time my room mate made fun of me when I absentmindedly served Nick a slice of pizza from the night before. She called me "hon," which always made me feel like a child. Was it really that bad? I'll have to tell her when I get home that people do it all the time in Korea, and I've never once gotten sick because of it. The Korean table is set so that everyone sticks their utensils in the bowl or dish, then take the food to their mouths and back into the public side dishes.
I was concerned about some expired cream cheese in the refrigerator the other day, and alerted Hyunsuk about it. She smelled it, then sampled it, and then assured me it was okay.
On the other hand, floors are sacred. The other day I went downstairs in sock feet to see a friend out, and Hyunsuk and Moxanim gawked loudly and laughed like it was the strangest thing. Sure, it's not the most sensible thing in the world to walk around in sock feet, but it's not really a problem either, right? Well, Moxanim rushed into the other room and found some slippers for me to wear. I rushed to the doorway and waved goodbye to my friends, and when I turned around, he insisted that I put on the slippers to walk back up to the apartment.
On the other hand,
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