Thursday, February 26, 2009

드라마 같은 인생

엄마, 한국 드라마 ‘Autumn Leaves’ 알아요? 그거 보고 싶어. 우리 클래스에 차이니스 걸이 엄마랑 함께 '가을 동화' 보다가 실컷 울었데, 너무 재미있데. 우리도 봐요.” 
큰아이가 말했다.

일본 북해도에 한 달가량 있던 작은아이가 
엄마, 욘사마 알아요.” 
?”
일본 아줌마들이 내가 한국 사람인  알고 ‘We love 욘사마’ 하며 난리였어. 욘사마가 누구야?”

퀸스 서니사이드 도서관에 갔다. 한국 드라마 DVD 많다. 아이들에게 한국말도 가르칠 빌려 왔다. 보고 나니 머리가 너무 아팠다. 우는 모습을 아이들에게 보이는 것이 창피해 참았던 탓이다.

엄마 한국에 사는 사람들 밥상엔 반찬이 저렇게 많아요?” 
드라마  상차림을 보고 아이들은 군침을 삼키면서 김치와 반찬 한 가지를 더해 먹는 우리 집 저녁상과 다르다며 의아해했.
드라마라서 그런 거야” 
우리도 저렇게 있는 것 많이 해 먹으면 안 돼요?” 
안돼. 너무 많이 먹으면 몸에 좋지 않아." 
이가 반찬을 보고 푸념하는 동안, 나는 나대로 신세타령했다드라마  화가는 미국 유학 갔다 돌아와 교수가 된다. 성공해서 그림 같은 스튜디오에서 멋지게 산다. 드라마니까’ 하며 위로하다가도 우울해졌다. 나도 유학파지만, 드라마 속의 삶과는 너무도 다르기 때문이다.

많은 한인이 한국 드라마가 재미있다고 했다. 그러나 우리 식구는 건너 불 보듯 재미가 있으면 얼마나 있다고 저리 난리들인가 했다. 한번 보기 시작하니 너무너무 재미있다. 처음엔 아이들 한국어 가르친다며 빌려봤다. 아이들은 조금 보더니, 흥미를 잃고 생각도 않는다. 우리 부부는 잠을 설치며 새벽까지 며칠 동안 봤다뜩이나 나온 광대뼈가 드라마에 미쳐 며칠 잠을 설쳤더니 튀어나왔다. 남편은 나의 초췌해진 모습을 보고 섬뜩했던지 
중독이야. 중독, 안 되겠어. 더는 빌려 오지 마."
소릴 질렀다. 드라마에 나오는 멋진 여류 화가와 비교되는 나를 남편이 어처구니없다는 표정으로 쳐다보며 
그만 보고 스튜디오에 가서 그림이나 하지!”

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

A life like drama

Mom, do you know the Korean drama Autumn in My Heart? I want to watch it. A Chinese girl in my class watched Autumn in My Heart with her mom and cried a lot. She said it was so good. Let’s watch it too!”
my older child said.

My younger child, who had spent about a month in Hokkaido, Japan, said:
“Mom, do you know Yon-sama?”
“Why?”
“Well, the Japanese ladies found out I was Korean and went, ‘We love Yon-sama!’ They were going crazy. Who is he?”

We went to the Sunnyside Library in Queens. They had a lot of Korean drama DVDs. I borrowed a few to help teach the kids Korean. But after watching a couple of episodes, my head hurt so much—probably because I held back tears, too embarrassed to cry in front of the kids.

“Mom, why do people in Korea have so many side dishes on their table?”
The kids watched the dinner scenes in the drama and started drooling. It looked so different from our usual dinner at home—just soup, kimchi, and one more side dish.
“It’s because it’s a drama.”
“Can’t we eat like that too, with lots of tasty food?”
“No. Eating too much isn’t good for you.”
While the kids were sighing over the food, I was sighing for another reason. In the drama, the artist studied abroad in America, came back to Korea, and became a professor. She was successful, living in a beautiful studio. I told myself, “It’s just a drama,” but still felt down. I studied abroad too—but my life is nothing like hers.

Many Koreans say Korean dramas are really fun. At first, our family thought, “What’s the big deal?” But once we started watching… wow, they were so good. I borrowed the DVDs, saying it would help the kids with their Korean. They lost interest after a while, but my husband and I were hooked, staying up late for days, watching until dawn.

My cheekbones, which already stick out, looked even more pronounced after several nights of lost sleep. My husband looked at my exhausted face and, shocked, said:

“This is an addiction. Seriously. Don’t borrow any more.”
Then he looked at me with a dumbfounded expression when I was compared to the cool female painters in the drama.
“Stop watching and go paint something in your studio!”

Thursday, February 12, 2009

7 트레인의 드라마

한인이 많이 사는 플러싱으로 가는 7트레인을 탔다. 화장을 곱게 하고, 명품 가방 든, 그리고 높은 통굽을 신고 있다면 십중팔구 한인이다손잡이를 잡고 하염없이 밖을 내다보다 트레인  한인들의 모습을 보는 순간, 내가 한국에 있다는 착각에 빠졌다. 
'어쩌다 내가 먼 곳까지 와서 떠나온 고국을 못잊어 하는 것일까!'

결혼하기 전 퀸스 엘머스트에 있는 자매가 사는 아파트의  한 칸
에서   동안 살았다아침 일찍 학교에 갔다가 도서실에 들러 늦게 돌아오는 바쁜 생활을 하느라  자매와는 많은 이야기를 나누지 못했. 동생은 성격이 활달한 싱글이다. 언니는 조용하고, 얌전한 이혼한 싱글이다는 정도만 알뿐이다.

하늘이 붉게 물드는 어느 초저녁, 그 언니와 함께 7트레인을 타고 맨해튼에 기회가 있었다. 달리는 트레인 안에서 붉게 물든 하늘을 쳐다보는 언니의 모습은 몹시나 슬펐다. 금방이라도 같은 표정이었다. 
언니 괜찮아요?” 
물었다. 언니는 고개를 숙이고 눈물을 닦았다
아이가 보고 싶어아이도 이렇게 석양이 지는 저녁엔 나를 찾을까?” 
언니 있어요?” 
달을 함께 살아도 말이 없던 언니는 입을 열었다웨이트리스를 하며 남편 박사 학위 뒷바라지를 했다고 한다. 박사 학위를 받은 남편은 함께 공부하던 여자와 눈이 맞아 이혼을 요구했고 딸을 데려갔단다.
몸에서 냄새나지?”
무슨 냄새요?”
식당에서 오랫동안 일하니까 몸에 냄새가 배서 아무리 목욕을 해도 빠지지 않아. 전남편이 음식 냄새 나는 내가 싫데.”
을 지는 하늘을 쳐다보는 언니의 슬픈 얼굴을 보며 나도 눈시울을 적셨. 작고, 가냘픈 여자가 몸에 냄새가 배여 빠지지 않을 정도로 희생해 뒷바라지한 남편에게 배신을 당했다. 게다가 아이까지 잃고 평생을 울며 살아야 하는 세상에 내가 살고 있다는 게 싫었다. 그런 상처를 주고서도 남편은 박사학위 받은 여자와 행복하게 있는 세상이 무서웠다

학교 공부 집어치우고 결혼해서 남편 뒷바라지하지 마. 나처럼 되고 싶지 않으면.” 
이렇게 잠깐씩 스치는 뼈아픈 말들이 살면서 나에게 많은 도움을 주었.

7트레인은 오늘도 힘든 이민자들의 가지가지 애환을 싣고 이리 꿈틀 저리 꿈틀 흔들리며 간다. 휘어져 가는 트레인의 모습을 보면 가슴은 해지며 눈물이 고인다. 오늘도 얼마나 많은 한인의 슬프고 기쁜 사연을 실어나르느라고 저리도 꿈틀거리며 바삐 가나!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Drama of 7-train

I took the 7 train to Flushing, where many Koreans live. If someone has perfectly done-up makeup, carries a luxury handbag, and is wearing high platform heels, there's a good chance they’re Korean. Gazing out the window at the subway ride and seeing so many Koreans inside made me feel like I was back in Korea.

Why have I come so far—and miss my homeland so much?

Before I got married, I lived for a few months in a room in Elmhurst, Queens, in the apartment of two sisters. I spent my mornings rushing to school and my evenings studying in the library, so I didn’t talk much with them. I only knew that the younger sister was bubbly and single, and the older one was quiet and politely divorced.

One early evening, when the sky was painted red, I had a rare chance to ride the 7 train into Manhattan with the older sister. On the moving train, she stared at the fiery sky looking deeply sad—like she might start crying any second.
“Are you okay?” I gently asked.
She looked down and wiped away her tears.
“I miss my daughter. I wonder if she misses me too when she sees the sunset like this.”
“You have a daughter?” I asked.
Even after months of living together, she had hardly ever spoken. This time, she opened up. She told me she had worked as a waitress to support her husband through his PhD. But after he earned his degree, he fell in love with someone else from his program and demanded a divorce—taking their daughter with him.

“Do I smell bad?” she asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?” I replied.

“After cooking in a restaurant for so long, the food smells cling to me—no matter how much I bathe, they won’t rinse away. My ex-husband hated that I smelled like food.”
I watched her face, framed against the sunset, and tears welled in my eyes. A small, fragile woman like her had sacrificed so much, to the point where she couldn’t even wash away food smells from her body—and then was betrayed not only by her husband but also lost her child. The thought that the world allows such injustice was unbearable. It frightened me that her ex-husband could go on to find happiness with someone else after inflicting such pain.

She had once told me:

“Don’t quit studying and get married just to support your husband. If you don’t want to end up like me.”
That brief, painful exchange left a deep impact on me.

Today, the 7 train—this same line to Flushing—carries the hopes, burdens, and untold stories of countless struggling immigrants. Watching its curved form bobbing down the tracks makes my heart ache, and tears prick my eyes. How many Koreans are riding it now, with stories of sorrow and joy woven into their everyday commutes? The 7 train continues to rattle through it all—bearing their lives.