Korean Friends

DW and I were very lucky when we were in Chŏnju, South Korea.

We had a fellow teacher meet us at Kimpo International Airport and escort us from Seoul. This teacher also took the time to show us around our new city, to where the best restaurants she knew, to where to buy necessities, to the bank from where we would wire money home, to the temples in the nearby countryside, to the neighbouring city to process our work visas, to where to socialize with other teachers.

And more.

This teacher, Linda, also introduced us to one of her Korean friends, who then became our friend. This Korean friend, Kyung-hee, showed us so much more of Korean culture and life in Chŏnju, and introduced us to one of her best friends, Ji-yeong.

When Linda finished her contract and left Korea, at the end of June, Kyung-hee and Ji-yeong became our best Korean friends. We spent almost every weekend touring the countryside with them. Both of them spoke excellent English and were helpful in teaching DW and me some basic Korean.

These friends also introduced us to some people with whom we would teach, privately.

Together, we were the fabulous four.

Me, DW, Kyung-hee, Ji-yeong

On one day, in May of 1997, the four of us roamed some of the parts of the city that seemed almost hidden: Tokchin Park, which spanned to the north-west of Chŏnbuk National University, and the Chŏnju Zoo, north-east of the university campus.

(I've never cared for zoos, seeing animals in captivity, far from their natural habitats, but Chŏnju Zoo is especially bad, for the small, confined spaces and its visitors' apparent lack of respect to the animals—many people threw food into the cages; some even climbed into the pens to get pictures next to the poor creatures.)

After our long wander, Kyung-hee took us to her home, where she lived with her mother. Kyung-hee retrieved one of her hanbok—a traditional Korean dress—and insisted that DW try it on. Though the bright pink did not compliment DW's blond hair and fair skin, she tried it on out of politeness.

She looked like a china doll.

Of course, DW commented on how beautiful the dress was. And, of course, being a polite friend (I once commented on a cute set of coffee spoons in a restaurant and Kyung-hee talked the owners into giving me a pair), Kyung-hee insisted that DW keep the dress.

She's only worn it once, on that day in May. It's carefully packed away in her closet.

Though our friendship was close, it didn't last long. Kyung-hee moved to Australia to study for a year. Ji-yeong was finishing her masters and needed to concentrate on her dissertation. When she graduated, she was married and moved to Seoul. We last saw her at her wedding. We kept in touch, briefly, and DW and I heard from her shortly after we moved into our home, but then that was it.

Kyung-hee returned to Chŏnju in the summer of 1998 and our friendship resumed, but she was now teaching and her job kept her very busy. By this time, DW was teaching at Chŏnbuk National University and I was at Jeonju University. Kyung-hee would occasionally visit my office for lunch, and DW and I would get together every once and a while, but we weren't as close as we were in our group of four.

Kyung-hee was with us at our last goodbye party in Chŏnju and came to Seoul for our final goodbye, before DW and I returned to Canada, in March of 1999.

In the summer of 2000, Kyung-hee came to visit us in our new home. It was a wonderful visit but she also wanted to explore more of Canada, and so the visit was short. We've managed to keep in touch over the years, through e-mail and online message services. A few years ago, Kyung-hee and I connected through Facebook, though she doesn't appear to use it often.

I've sent her messages, through the Facebook messenger, letting her know that I'll be back in Chŏnju in May. So far, I've heard nothing.

Twenty years is a long time to maintain a long-distance friendship. And while it would be wonderful to reunite, my purpose for returning to Korea varies from any reunions.

But I'll never forget those friendships.