Dragon

The man sidled down the crowded bus aisle, his gaze sliding over the passengers. He looked to be about in his late middle age – perhaps 50’s, maybe early ’60s. His face was lined, and grave, in the manner of older Korean men everywhere. He wore a denim jacket and jeans, over a modest white dress shirt. The man paused, evaluating, glancing over the few available seats. At last, he settled on one of the only empty sets left, and made his slow way back to lower himself down. Right next to me.

There was no surprise, in this, of course. In my 2 months of dwelling here I have become quite the old salt on the busses of Gwangju. I know the rules.

If you get on early enough – which, living in the boonies as I do, is always – you can score a seat. If that seat is too convenient, though, you’ll need to give it up to an older person as soon as the bus fills up (which it will, especially as we pass through the crowded Unam district on our way downtown). Sit in the back, however, and towards the side, and you won’t be noticed.* I like to do this, and then I am usually left undisturbed – sitting next to the foreigner is most people’s last resort.

The man sat quietly next to me for a while, once or twice glancing at the pages of my book as they flashed by, in English, of course.** Eventually, though, I finished, and slid my Kindle away. At that point, the man leaned over.

“Where…where you from?”

I was started, momentarily. His voice was low, rough, and uncertain. It was also one of the only voices on the bus – Koreans don’t speak on public transport. Most bus rides are silent apart from the noise of the engine and the cheerful computer woman announcing each stop. If they do talk, they certainly don’t talk to foreigners.

But this man did.

“Miguk saram imnida,” I stumbled back out. I am an American.

And so I made a friend.

His daughter lived in the United States, I found. A long way away – Maryland. Did I know Maryland? No, she didn’t work there – she married a guy. You know how it goes. He had traveled to see her a few times, but not as often as he’d like. It was just so far to go, and so expensive! But her husband made her happy, and that was what was important.

Yes, his English was pretty good, wasn’t it? Maybe the two of us could practice together, eh? English, Korean – we’ll both learn. I was an English teacher? That’s wonderful – he loves English literature, but reading it is hard.

Where did I live? Missouri…somewhere in the middle? He was sure it was very beautiful. Gwangju was beautiful too, of course.

Soon, though, it was my stop. Time to go.

“It was good to meet you,” the man said as I stood to leave. “I would like us to be friends,” he added.

“I’d like that, too,” I replied.

He grinned and stuck out his hand. “My name is Myong. it means Dragon.”

Pleased to meet you, Myong.

*Just like college.

**Anyone surprised by me reading a book on the bus – have you met me? It’s like an hour long ride! That’s two hours a day (round trip) of potential reading time!