Many signs have the word "Hongdae" written on them. We walked around the campus. There was no trace of the school my husband and I attended in the 70s. At the foot of Wausan, there used to be only the College of Fine Arts, the College of Business, and the College of Engineering. Now that it's a comprehensive university, the buildings are so packed that I couldn't tell where anything was. I couldn't even find the bench where I used to sit and wait for my friends.
To the right of the school gate used to be the Katarina Cafe, which had quietly become a den for marijuana smokers back then. Health officials with sharp eyes would raid the place, causing quite a bit of trouble for many smokers. On the left was Yujeong Coffee House, where the older folks used to go. Along the railway tracks were shabby bars in a row, but I was confused for a while because the tracks seemed to have been removed, making it hard to revive old memories. Now, the area is full of restaurants, bars, and shopping districts. I wondered if this was really the school I had attended for four years.
The next morning, my husband and I strolled around the shopping area, closely observing everything. The railway line to the Danginri Power Plant had turned into a spot dealing in important tourist products. Unlike me, my husband remembered a lot. While I mostly remembered who was dating whom among our classmates, my husband remembered the surroundings of the school and the art trends of that time.
Our children went into Olive Young to shop for gifts for their girlfriends left back in New York. I almost said to my eldest, who plans to visit Korea with his girlfriend again, 'Do you think you'll still be together by then?' but instead I said,
"Next year when you visit Korea, try a temple stay. When I did a temple stay at Golgulsa long ago, a Finnish couple even came there for their honeymoon. The ondol room was warm, and the food was delicious. After a few days of silent meditation, the world looks different."
On the subway or train, Korean ajummas strike up conversations as if they've known me for a long time. When I reluctantly respond out of courtesy, my husband jumps in, chatting excitedly with them like he's meeting an old flame.
“Mom, Korean ajummas are kind and friendly. They talk to you like they know you.”
“Koreans are warm-hearted people who love song and dance.”
If I have any wealth left, I won't leave it to the children. I think it would be better to spend it traveling with them. The strong dollar has also played a part in this travel. The kids seem thrilled to travel for free, without spending any money.
“Mom, let’s go to Taiwan next year.”
I can't take a trip every year where I have to spend my own money, shut up, stay out of the way, listen to my kids, and follow them around, can I?
“Your dad and I will be busy next year. First, let’s pay off the credit card bill from this trip and then think about it.”
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