I'm a Stranger in a Strange Land

And I get stranger every day. I cheerfully call out Korean greetings to perfect strangers. I eat tiny little crabs, shell and all, like they were M&M's. I play impromptu games of charades and pictionary to describe things like "bathroom" (called "toilet" here), "light bulb", and "peanut butter." When standing on the sidewalk, I've taken to resting my weight on the balls of me feet to avoid the motorcycle that inevitably decides to use the sidewalk to get around traffic. I turn a blind eye to the old man relieving himself in someone's vegetable patch (to be fair, it might have been his own vegetable patch). I eat from the same plate as perfect strangers and barely wonder what kind of sicknesses I could be catching. I don't even blink at the buckets of sweat dripping off me and gratefully take a "tiss" (tissue) to wipe it off my face.

Saturday, with no internet, I couldn't look online to see where my ward would be. Thankfully, my friend teaching in Incheon manged to get ahold of the sister missionaries and skyped me information.

So, Sunday morning, I woke up bright and early at 6:00 am, got dressed, ate some breakfast, and trudged the twenty five minute walk to the bus terminal in the rain. (Thanks for the boots, Lil' Sis.) After a quick game of "Guess where I want to go?", I got a ticket to Suncheon and boarded the bus. It took 1 1/2 hours to get to Suncheon. I kept falling asleep then jerking awake at each stop, certain that I had missed Suncheon and was now somewhere in North Korea. Let me tell you, living in Utah has really spoiled me for the rest of the world. I am much too accustomed to an LDS wardhouse on every corner. It will take a lot of determination to spend 3 hours total going to and from church, instead of the 2 minutes I am used to. The sister missionariees met me at the bus station and walked me to church.

Oh my goodness, it was small. I should have expected it to be tiny, as Korea is low on available building space, but I was still shocked. The church building was three (maybe four?) stories high with perhaps 5 or 6 small rooms on each floor. The chapel was located on the top floor. The room was about 1/4 the size of the average chapel in the U.S. That was okay, though, because there were only about 25 people there. They were extremely excited to see me, as I make person number 26.

Sister Kelly, the missionary from LA, sat next to me and translated. Apparently, they are looking to get 100 people coming to church, as that would turn their branch into a ward. From what I understand, the LDS people are considered a cult here, because we do not pay people to go out and find new members. So, volunteering = cult. It seemed odd to me, too.

Boy, do they love to sing. In our orientation class, we had been told several times that Koreans love to sing. And they do. The twenty five people belted out their Korean Hymns like it was a contest - the loudest singer gets a free snow cone and a puppy. On top of that, most of them sang on pitch. I sort of just hummed along and will continue to do so until I can read Hanguel.

I went back to the bus terminal by myself. Sister Kelly gave me directions and I sort of wandered around until a kind Korean man and wife took pity on me. I stopped at the crosswalk, looking rather pathetic as I wondered how to find bus 77 to take me back to the bus station.

"You Christian?"

I turned. The man, dressed in one of those popular shiney, silver suits, pointed to my scriptures.

"Yes, I am," I said. "I'm just coming from church."
"Ah, me too. Her too." He pointed to his wife, smiling behind him. "Which church?"

"The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints," I said automatically. He looked blank, so I added, "The Mormon church."

He shook his head. "Sorry, my English not so good. Which church?"

I held up my scriptures and pointed to the words "Book of Mormon."

"Ah, yes!" he said, sort of pumping his fist. "I meet Paul and he tell me all about it."

Now it was my turn to look blank. "Paul?"

"Paul Elder."

Lightbulb. "Oh, a missionary?"

He nodded. "Very nice man, very nice."

The conversation sort of halted, so I held up my written directions from Sister Kelly. "Can you tell me how to get to bus 77?"

He lit up like a Christmas tree. "Bus 77? Follow me."

He stepped out onto the crosswalk, oblivious to the traffic. I paused, watching with a sort of horrified awe as his wife followed and the cars actually stopped! They never stop for me! I hurried after him and he and his wife walked me to the bus stop.

"What is your phone number?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't have a phone yet."

Every Korean person who discovers I don't have a cell phone seems to think it is the end of the world. They always get this consoling look on their face, as if they don't know if they should buy a sympathy card and flowers for me or just not mention it.
"I have to get my ARC first, then I can get a hand phone," I said.

His wife patted his arm and I assume she understood enough English to know what had just happened.

"Then how can I contact you?" the old man asked mournfully.

That threw me for a loop. I usually don't have people clamoring for my phone number. "Uh, well, if you are here next week at around the same time, I should be here, too."

He grinned and bowed. "Nice to meet you," he said.

"Kamsahamnida," I replied, bowing back.
Then they walked away and I got on the bus.

During the ride back to my apartment, I kept thinking about those 25 people singing their lungs out in the chapel. What faith it must take to be a Christian in Korea, and an LDS Christian at that. Their strength of character and solid determination is very inspiring. I hope I don't disappoint them.