So I didn’t leave the house.
I try not to sleep later than my host father. When he is out of bed it is breakfast time. I put on a bra and a sweatshirt, real clothes are not appropriate, and go into the living room. Se Ho is on the floor with a pile of laundry sorting out the underwear and socks, which are hung on the rack in the corner, from the towels and heavy things. He bursts through the bathroom door, hitting his father’s knees while he sits on the can, to put them back in the laundry machine that apparently dries also. You can see his father’s feet under the door in plastic bathroom slippers. They interrupt his morning toilette more than once. My host mother is wearing boys boxer shorts with the fly unbuttoned.
For breakfast we have an egg and tofu souffle that my host mother makes that, although there are onions in it, is largely flavorless, and a strange fish that I wouldn’t be able to identify live. For side dishes, of course kimchi, cucumber and seaweed, and some red stuff that my host mother’s mother sent from Seoul some weeks back, that they told me is $30 a gram or something ridiculous, and that I’ve never tried because it’s usually too far away for me to reach anyway.
Se Eun and I have snacked all day. It’s just not fair that there is a bag of little chocolates in a clothes hamper in the living room. Made pizza for lunch, on slices of white bread. She makes the sauce with onions and ketchup and we cut it into manageable pieces with scissors while watching the end of School of Rock.
I think I watched part of The Path to 9/11 the other night. I was the whole time wondering, what the hell is this movie with recognizable actors, but obviously low-budget, and is this really accurate? My host mom kept saying “Woori nara blah blah blah” –“our country blah blah blah” –and for the umpteenth time I really really wished that we could have a conversation. I don’t know what they think about anything.
She obviously didn’t like the ending, when it cut off mid-storyline and without resolution.