The Little Things.

     Let's face it.   Whether I'd like to believe it or not, Korea is just not the place to simply walk up to someone and start a conversation.  Sometimes I miss this about my hometown and about my mother country as a whole--it's largely not an awkward and socially imposing thing to approach a stranger with a question, a friendly greeting, or just small talk on the street.

     I'm relatively reserved about such things in my own country--pretty trusting of myself, confident in what I'm doing and where I'm going, and usually in enough of a hurry to get there that I seldom have time and reason to just chat.  Here, having overcome some of the language barrier and cultural differences, I fear that's been amplified in that, sometimes, I forget, altogether, how to have such a casual conversation.  People here remain pretty shy, not just in speaking to foreigners (I sometimes joke with my parents about just how overly safe I feel in a country where people are often too scared to so much as talk to me), but also to each other.  From small talk to life stories, this kind of spontaneous bonding seems to have little place in Korea.

     On an average weekday, the most advantageous time for me to strike up such a conversation is around 7:40 a.m, during which time I wait for my morning bus to school.  My bus stop is located at a rather busy intersection that houses (what might be) the largest middle and high school campus in the city of Pyeongtaek.  As such, I see plenty of young people running around (and I do mean running around), always en route to school, academies, quick dinners in between, taekwondo lessons, and if they're lucky, home.  Each morning, I wait for my bus along with a half dozen other Koreans, more often than not middle and high school students departing for other parts of the city.  There is always an old lady, and she always gives me curious but rather friendly head-to-toe glances in front of her snack shop.  I've come to brush that off.  She's friendly, but does little to no talking; rather, she just uses hand signs to convey how tall I am.  We see this.

     Try as I may to say a simple "hi" or "how are you?" to some of the younger queued students, they simply giggle, get embarrassed, and, if they're feeling really conversational, toss back a "fine, thank you."  This happens with relatively frequency and few results.

     Then, on Monday (Was it Monday? It's been a long week already...), a cold, rainy, and altogether unpleasant morning, a friendly high schooler who, after originally standing 3 or 4 meters away from me, approached me with some English after a hearty throat clear.  It was awesome!

     Better yet, he looked up to see I had no umbrella, and that my blazer was damp, and immediately proceeded to hold his umbrella higher so that we could share it!  What a guy!

     He asked me, in awesome English, "What is your job in Korea?  Are you soldier?"
     "No," I replied.  "I'm an English teacher."
     "Ah, wow, great!  You are so tall, and I am happy to share my umbrella with you."
     "Thank you so much, you are so nice.  What is your job?"
     "Hahaha, you think I am old?  Thank you!  I am just a high school student."
     "Wow, you look very old and professional!"
     "Thank you so much."

     With that, my bus had arrived, and it was time to say goodbye.  "Thanks for the umbrella," I turned and waved and shouted.  "Have a good day!"
     "You too, nice teacher!  Have a good day too!"

     With that, my day was off to a nice start.  Why share that story?  It was 30 seconds of my life, 30 seconds that I could experience every morning of every week of every month of every contract in Korea.  It was 30 seconds of conversation that plenty of students and Korean people are generally capable of having.  It was 30 seconds, and that's hardly enough to make someone's day, or better yet, have your day be made my someone, right?

     I share that story because, after nearly 20 months in Korea, after 6 schools and a few thousand students, after hundreds of short bus rides to and from school, after all the cynicisms I may have accumulated about the utter lack of straight up, casual, for-the-hell-of-it, "how's life been?" conversation in Korea...

     All it takes is an umbrella, and/or a friendly face, and/or a little English confidence to make your day in 30 seconds, to reassure you that what you're doing here is worth both your time and that of others.

     It's all about the little things.