To Koreans, food is a love language.
Wesley Allen
Attending church at our son Wesley’s last area, the members rolled out the red carpet for us. At Sunday School, one of the men sat beside us and translated the lesson. Drew still knows some Korean from when he served a church mission here 30 years ago, but has forgotten a lot (says he, but I think he sounds great). For me, luckily, it was an easy lesson to follow–about the 99 sheep and the lost sheep, as well as the prodigal son.
Also after that Sunday School, two families invited us to dinner. In the end, we let them collaborate on a joint celebration. But first, we were invited to lunch at another family’s.
The Kim family lives in a high-rise with their 7 kids and 2 cute dogs. When the dogs came leaping through the air onto our laps, our hosts worried, but we reassured them we were fine (my hubby is a veterinarian).
They didn’t speak much English, but we managed with Wesley’s translation. Plus, I started “learning” some Korean. Because it’s kind of fun to say things and have them understand me. PS I probably botched the phonetic spelling of the Korean words. I wrote them as I heard them.
After dinner, the husband brought out a plum extract they have been preserving for a year and served it to us diluted in water and on ice. It was a nice combination of tart and sweet.
By about four, with our bellies full and as we were still jet lagged, we were dozing off on their couch. And then it was time to go to our next meal invitation. At Sister Jeung’s house, she had us sitting around low tables the traditional Korean way. We enjoyed chap chae noodles, fried chicken wings, breaded pork, and sticky rice.
It was wonderful to hear Wesley speak Korean fluently and to get to know his friends better. We got back to our Airbnb, as Koreans say, with our stomachs singing and were ready to turn in for the night at 9.
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