Follow the River North

I have so many posts in the queue, but getting myself, my photos and my little recipe notebook all in the same place at the same time is proving a bit difficult. Something else that’s proving difficult is getting any photos taken in decent daylight, when obviously the bulk of my cooking takes place on weeknights after I’ve gotten home from work (in other words, after the sun is down). Even the photos I snap in midday on weekends tend to take on a kind of ominous series of shadows, thanks to Seoul’s lack of bright and sunny days, so I’m going to try to get my lighting situation sorted out this weekend.

I’ve spent the week getting all set to travel back home for a whopping grand total of a week next month. I’d have to say the thing that smarts the most in the transition from teacher to editor is the cut in vacation time. I am extremely lucky I was able to line the dates up to get to San Antonio for my very best friend’s wedding, and I’m grateful to her for having her wedding in such a lovely city, so I’m able to turn it into a wee mini-vacation before bussing it up to Dallas to see my family. B’s in a sulk about the whole thing — this is the second year in a row I’ll miss his birthday due to travel, and his company has taken the technically illegal stance that first-year employees don’t get any vacation at all.

Tuesday night we headed to a 포차 (tented restaurant) after work to unwind. B’s completely taken with the 순하리 소주 (light, flavored soju) and ordered a bottle, while I took my customary dram of whatever makgeolli was on hand. Halfway into his bottle, as we watched our 돼지갈비 (dwaeji-galbi, marinated pork ribs) boil in the marinade the owner had poured over the top onto the grill, defeating its very purpose, B suddenly burst into a chorus that’s becoming more and more common from him these days: “시골로 가자.” — Let’s go to the country.

Bizarre. From March to July, it was me chirping out those suggestions and him objecting repeatedly. But then he was unemployed at that time. So I lightly suggested that, more than the city, perhaps working at companies might be the problem. Namely, the improbability of us ever being able to coordinate a joint vacation, and B’s hesitancy to go abroad without me.

Also, desks, the incessant sound of typing, seniors and bosses.

I told him, in English, that I was having second thoughts. He asked me what my second thought was.

Then we bent our heads and whispered for a while.

But then, this week, our editor-in-chief announced that a series I edit was nominated for a pretty hefty award, the magazine’s first in an editorial category. It’s just a good series in general, with or without me, but it felt good and it felt like I might be doing something right.

I’ve booked up next weekend with restaurant reservations that I’m quite excited about. Tomorrow will be a couple of flashy new bars with a friend. I’m glad it’s Friday. For now, my weekends are glimmering brighter than any of the workless weekdays that spread out in front of me with seemingly no end in sight last year.

 
(This is the view we wake up to, now that the weather has cooled off and the air conditioner has been swapped for open bedroom windows.)