Infant Birthday Parties and Shopping with Korean Parents

The other day, I learned the hard way that when Park's father asks you if you want to do something, your answer should always be no. This is not because Park's father is an unpleasant man. As a matter of fact, he's an incredibly nice man who has gone out of his way to make me feel welcome. On numerous occasions, he's taken me out to eat or even just picked me up in his cab (his latest hobby is driving a cab). In fact, I can't really describe the problem. Instead, I'll just tell you what happened. First, though, I'm going to tell you about my first experience at the Korean equivalent to a baby shower.

One of MyungSoo's friends recently had a baby. When a baby turns one year old it's traditional to have a party. Now, silly Westerner that I am, I thought this party was going to be a small get together at someone's house. Maybe there would be food, a few drinks, and people would pass the baby back and forth and admire how cute she is while chit-chatting about small baby things like diapers and breastfeeding. Silly me. The first birthday is a big deal. That means renting a room at a "birthday hall" with catered food, alcohol, an MC, music, and fancy disco lights. It also means traditional hanboks for the family and a table covered in traditional foods such as rice cakes and fresh fruit. There are all sorts of events to introduce the baby and the family, but the most important event comes last. The baby is presented with a platter full of toys. These toys represent things in the baby's future (usually job). Whichever toy the baby chooses will determine what that child will do when he or she grows up. Popular toys include a stethoscope (doctor), a mallet (lawyer), a pencil (good student), a ball of yarn (long life), as well as many others. MyungSoo says some parents also include a computer mouse in hopes that their child will become a pro gamer. This particular baby chose the ball of yarn. A good choice, I'd say. Anyway, it was a really cool experience. I got to eat tons of delicious food (Did you know that you can eat raw crab? It has a very fulfilling flavor.), and meet more of MyungSoo's friends.

We shall honor this baby with FOOD.

Anyway, it was after we returned to Seoul from the baby party, that we met Mr. Park. We were very tired. We were considering going to the sauna to bathe, sleep, eat, and drink. But we made the fatal mistake of deciding to stop by MyungSoo's house first. Mr. Park was there with MyungSoo's younger brother, KwangSoo, cleaning out the trunk of his cab. Somehow, a giant tub of spicy chili paste had burst open during transit and smeared its contents all over everything. It looked a lot like congealed blood and smelled a lot like your favorite spicy Korean food. It had a tendency to stick to everything and suddenly appear on your clothing if you let your guard down at all. When the last vestiges of gore had been removed from the trunk, Mr. Park decided (on a whim) that it would be totally awesome if we all went shopping together. Eagerly, he asked me. Not knowing my danger, I accepted. I thought it would be a simple trip. Maybe an hour at the most. Surely, not more that two hours. How very wrong I was.

Mr. Park decided that this needed to be a family outing. Mrs. Kim, his wife (In Korea, the women keep their name after marrying), was at work, so this was going to be a man's trip. KwangSoo and MyungSoo reluctantly smoked their last cigarettes. MinSoo said goodbye to his friends and signed out of his League of Legends account. We piled into the car. Then we drove less than a mile and got out again. Mr. Park had decided that the car needed to have its oil changed, and it needed to have it changed now. One of his many friends is a mechanic, so he took the car to his friend. Then, instead of waiting, he hopped in his friend's car, a giant, clunking van, and we drove off. Maybe it would have made more sense if I spoke Korean. However, to me, it seemed like a real life Grant Theft Auto.

We finally made it to the mall. Then we wandered...we wandered for hours. I'm certain we resembled the mafia. Imagine, if you will, Mr. Park in the front, wearing slacks and a button-down, older, kindly-looking, yet tough, picking up items, examining them, putting them back, perhaps remarking on the price. Flanking him, two burly young men, one of them short, muscular and tan, just fresh out of his army service, the other still in middle school but already almost taller than his brother, slightly chubby but certainly strong. They pass remarks back and forth, commenting on the price of fresh produce, but you're certain they're really discussing who to off next. Taking up the rear, the tallest of them all, a skinny, yet muscular young man, hardened from years of hard labor as the middle child. And behind this quadruple threat, a strange foreign girl, clearly confused and lost.

After three hours of shopping, the boys finally rebelled and told their father that they needed to go home. Our final purchases were as follows: two pink and green pillowcases, an ironing board, a block of cheese. That is it.This event also led KwangSoo to remark that if he ever got a girlfriend, he would never introduce her to his father. But I guess it could be worse. One of MyungSoo's exes was coerced into spending an entire day planting rice at the family farm.

The next day, I was at MyungSoo's house again and had the opportunity to run into his mother on her way to the store. She instantly enlisted her son to carry things (that's what sons are for, obviously). We were in and out in twenty minutes with a full week's worth of food. Boom. Moms are awesome.