In Korea, it's a well-followed to tradition to allow the oldest (and often wealthiest) member of the dinner party to pay for your lunch or dinner bill. One of Nate's former students (who we'll call Mr. S) enjoys taking Nate out fairly regularly for a meal, and upon hearing I arrived in town, called us up to invite us both along to dinner. Mr. S has one of the charming faces that is always ready to break out into a smile. Mr. S also insists on being called "Mr. S", which instantly creates a light mood when you meet him (really, when was the last time you called someone "Mr ______"?) We had a veritable feast (of side-dishes, naturally), and then he treated us to extraordinarily expensive cappacino (about $10 for a small cup) at a downtown hotel.
What else?
Well, we've been playing daily games of tennis on clay courts that are within view from the apartment windows. We also celebrated Nate's bachelor party two nights ago. It was a late-night affair to be sure, but also involved taking a 90-minute cruise of sorts aboard a small vessel with a dozen or so other teachers. The views were stunning, we got drenched, and I saw the most number of jellyfish I could've ever imagined in one place, temporarily reviving a childhood phobia. Another highlight: walking through the youthful part of downtown and stumbling upon four batting cages. Honestly! The man who operates them also is a street vendor who also sells mystery meat and rents out a trampoline (!). The cage was so small that I had to switch hit just to make contact, and I felt a bit badly - hitting balls within inches of people's apartment windows - but it brought back an older version of myself I seldom visit. I frequently used to dream of playing professional baseball. I memorized stat books, studied books on hitting (Rod Carew, a California Angel, wrote what became my personal bible on the subject), and watched games fiendishly.
Oh yes, and on Friday night, I actually played a gig. The cafe was packed of equal parts foreigners and Koreans, and the first set in particular was a joy. I hammered out songs on an un-mic'd upright piano, and wandered through the crowd playing accordion and singing. The Koreans in attendance seemed quite taken with the show, a happy surprise given the scarcity of live music over here. I've have a bit of an accordion re-awakening since I've been here; its portability and capacity for dynamics make it an ideal instrument to travel with. Amazingly, it's always been allowed on board with me on flights. I want to insert an accordion joke at my own expense here, but I'll let you take it away if you'd like...