Our chatter

"Where do you want to go?" My friends asked me affectionately when I went to Seoul.

Even after I left for the U.S. a long time ago, my friends seem to meet once every month and spend a lot of time together. After the meeting, one of the friends emails me where they went, what they ate, how they played.

I imagine where my friends have been and spend a few days nostalgic because of the frustration of not being together. “I want to go where you guys often go.” I wanted to know a day of friends I imagined in New York.

We met at Korea Exchange Bank at the entrance to Myeong-dong. Walking toward the Myeong-dong Cathedral, I snooped down the alley, but there was unfortunately no sign of the old days.

We went to a restaurant near the Cathedral called "Little Happiness in the Garden." It was a fusion restaurant where a person who had cooked for the priests of Myeong-dong Cathedral cooked it with organic produce. The atmosphere was good and the taste was not bad.

Instead of such a lofty place, I'd like to go into a '70s-style cart bar on the street and say, 'Please give me a bottle of soju here on oden' or sit on the market stand bar and say, 'I'll have bindaetteok and makgeolli.'

Whenever I went to Seoul, I would definitely like to go to a cart bar on the street, but my father said, "If you want to have an upset stomach, go ahead." So I never have been there. My husband said he would like to have a drink at a nice bar in a Korean drama when he goes to Seoul.

After getting out of that noble-name restaurant, we went to a teahouse called Coin. Most of the names of businesses are long or English. We each order whatever we want and chatter for a while. The Japanese waiter kindly brought us coffee and tea as a free service. Why the Japanese waiter in the middle of Myeong-dong? Globalization? I was confused.

We get a free service in the middle of chatting, and sat there for a long time, but the waiter didn't bother us that we should leave. One of the reasons for the frequent visit restaurants or cafe is that waiters don’t give the hint those customers should leave.

At dusk, nobody said let's go home. We dipped our feet in the water of Cheonggyecheon and our chatter continued endlessly. In the meantime, my eyes kept turning upward. The Cheonggyecheon overpass that used to pass over my head still seem to have not disappeared from my mind. If we don't get dementia, our chatter will not stop and continue forever.