THIS SIDE OF THE WORLD
What have I done? Was I delusional? Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, my heart sank as these questions came flooding at me like surprising, uninvited guests. There was no rhyme or reason for the crashing guest. Rather than quickly dismissing the thought, I stayed with it and acknowledged the dreadful emotion. I knew I could have easily rationalized how God led every step of the way for the last six plus years, leading to the one-way flight to Korea, with most of our earthly belongings. But I decided not to.
About twenty minutes later, the rude guest left my heart’s room as if a distant memory. While still puzzled, I was glad I didn’t ignore them. We missed our connecting flight from San Francisco because our flight from Los Angeles didn’t arrive in SF on time. The layover would have been an action-packed fifty minutes anyway, but we’ve flown the same route many times and never missed a connection—until now. Also, I’ve always managed to get my go-to Gyudon bowl from SFO, to my wife’s mild fluster, adding to the adrenaline rush. During a flight to SFO, I was able to reroute through Narita, Japan, with a five-hour layover, arriving late at night in Korea. I didn’t mind the Narita layover since I knew my stomach would be happy with ramen, udon, and curry at the Air Nippon Airways lounge. And I savored washing all that down with cold Asahi Beer.
A day later, we successfully made our way to Gapyeong Airbnb, where we stayed before without encountering another hiccup. The only challenge was to fit four large suitcases plus two small ones into a small sedan that someone has graciously loaned us to use. We planned to stay at Gapyeong for two weeks until we move into our new home at Yangpyeong in mid-October. Halfway settled with familiarity intact, we quickly shopped for food for our sustenance as well as for hosting. This week also happens to be a golden holiday season, Chuseok (Korean mid-autumn harvest festival), as we expect to receive a few guests.
After taking care of our groceries, we made our way to Café Sinhari 1955. We had anticipated being here for many months, as we had harvested many fond memories. One picture I took a year ago remained as my virtual background for all my Zoom meetings. As soon as we started driving to the café, we ran into an apple orchard owner right next to our place (I shared about last fall). Though his back was turned, I noticed the posture and told my wife, “Here is the orchard owner.” As I was driving by him, I rolled down the window and greeted him. “Annyeong haseyo!” As our eyes locked, he returned with a big, happy smile, displaying his white, straight teeth, and asked how long we would be in the area. After hearing “Only two weeks,” He quickly told us the apples would not be harvested until early November. Even before he finished his sentence, I interrupted him and assured him that we would be back in early November to pick up a box or two. His gloved hands were holding five apples that he had just picked. “I want to see how they are ripening,” he said to us. And handed over three apples without missing a beat. “Here, try them as the first fruit of the season.” Feeling grateful, we received the apples with a big grin on our faces and promised him we would be back.
Less than five hundred meters away is the café. With the inner gratitude channel wide open, after driving through a narrow, windy farming and cattle land, we arrived at the café. I would not fault anyone for one’s failure to imagine a café after that less-than-spectacular country drive. The café owner (who is the daughter) spotted us and let out in a shouting tone, “Oh, hello, so good to see you!” She followed, “My parents were just talking about you the other day. And they were wondering whether you would come back.” With my heart gladdened by the genuine welcome and longing vibe, I returned with a warm smile. She then spent the next five minutes calling and looking for her parents, putting her business on hold. We finally spotted them behind the café in their well-manicured garden, big enough to require a yeoman’s work. After hearing our voices, out sprang the father in a baseball cap, jeans, and work boots. He was tending to his impressive array of vegetables, from sweet potatoes to peppers to napa cabbage to radishes. The familiar smile followed.
Our conversations flowed like old friends, exchanging more than a few pleasantries. These familiar faces and relationships represent the kind of fertile welcome that is ordinary and effortless, much like the nature surrounding us. This welcome was the icing on the cake, as our friends from Korea, Malaysia, Singapore, and the Philippines congratulated us, crossing the Pacific Ocean, finally being “on this side of the world,” as someone wrote us.