Читать книгу Waiting for a Wide Horse Sky - Elaine Kennedy - Страница 13

Eight

The next few weeks went by quickly. We were all spending long days at middle-school but I had also started classes in Korean language at the nearby university. I saw very little of Myong-Ai who left in the mornings before I was up and sometimes came home quite late from visiting her family. When we were both at home the atmosphere was strained and I felt guilty most of the time while not exactly knowing why.

Kyonga had phoned me after visiting the factory. The biggest problem that concerned the workers was the lack of any information about their bank accounts. They wanted bank books or ATM cards instead of having to beg for money to buy essentials such as toiletries. They were anxious to know if the money promised their families was getting to them. Kyonga had urged some of the women to speak to the manager and to request access to their accounts.

‘It was unlikely that he would comply and the women were reluctant to approach him about it,’ she said. ‘There’s a new manager who was put in place recently, when the company started expanding to other cities. The previous manager had been more approachable, although he had approved the policies which caused so much grief. Still, they need to go through the right procedures – give the new manager, Mr Liu, the chance to agree to their requests to show they are being reasonable – before any formal complaints can be lodged.’

This was something I could do after Chuseok, Kyonga said. If ATM cards or bank books were not granted I could help set up an avenue of complaint, perhaps with their embassy. A westerner would be more likely to be listened to than a Korean. I looked forward to being able to do what I could, I told her.

I asked if Angela’s friends had gone to have dinner as they planned.

‘Yes. We had a nice time. At first Carmen wouldn’t come to the gate but Angela made Gloria take her to Carmen’s room and then coaxed her into coming with us. I don’t know how she got past the guard. Nothing stops her it seems.’

Marilyn had begun to spend every weekend, at my place. She still hadn’t found a suitable place to rent and she could barely tolerate staying with her host family. She was much happier sleeping on Myong-Ai’s couch, even though they didn’t get on. There had been no replies to our letters so we were happy to be on our way to Busan.

The holiday was everything we had hoped for. Being just the three of us, Olga, Marilyn and me, worked out perfectly. We knew each other well and had the same sense of humour. We could all see the funny side of our faux pas, such as when we went swimming at Haeundae Beach on the main holiday, when locals were dressed as if for a cocktail party and looked us up and down as we trailed out of the surf looking like drowned rats.

We refused to be intimidated when we went into the continuously playing movie in the basement of the Marriott Hotel and stayed on after the movie ended and re-started. We simply shrugged and widened our eyes as officious usherettes threw their right arms towards the door, motioning for us to get out.

‘There have to be some advantages to not knowing the language.’ Olga pointed out afterwards. We were sitting on the stone wall bordering the esplanade.

‘Speaking of not knowing the language, I seem to be getting nowhere with my course at the university. We spend all our time with obscure grammar points and learning Korean myths. I have to change things when I go back. I need survival language.’

‘Amos will be here tomorrow. Just ask him about language learning,’ said Olga. ‘He believes in body language and selective understanding. It allows you to do as you like, he thinks.’

Amos arrived the next day in time for an early lunch. He suggested having a traditional Korean meal at the Haeundae markets. It was a smart choice: the food was good and Amos needed a rest after walking from the railway station.

‘What do you feel like doing today?’ Olga asked him. ‘We could provide entertainment for the locals and go swimming.’

Marilyn explained that no one except us went in the water, and how it had created a stir when we had tried it on our first day in Busan.

‘There’s a boat tour of the harbour if you’re interested. We haven’t done that yet,’ I suggested. I wasn’t keen to be stared at in my bathing suit again.

It seemed like a good idea so we walked back to the beach, examining the market stalls as we went. A group of Americans was waiting on the pier when we arrived but there was still plenty of room for the four of us.

The guide’s voice sounded familiar but none of our group was listening. Olga was filling us in on her living situation. Her room-mate, Jun, led an extremely boring life: lights out at nine, no noise before that while she silently prepared lessons, and then cleaning the apartment all weekend.

‘Besides that, I think she hates me,’ Olga said. ‘She won’t allow smoking in the house so I go up on the roof. The door blew shut with the wind the other night and I had to bang on it for half an hour before someone came and opened it. She gave me the sourest looks when I came in. She ignores me completely at the school.’

The mood was becoming grim when a pleasant-looking Korean man came walking towards us.

‘Elaine. I thought it was you on the pier. Do you remember me? I’m Song – from Bulguksa Temple.’

‘Yes, of course. Are you taking the American tour?’

‘I was. I’ve just about finished – I’ll take the group back to their bus and they’ll head back to Seoul after this boat tour.’

I was silently willing the others not to make any wisecracks but they obviously liked Song, and they invited him to join us once he finished his work.

‘You must let me show you around. Busan is my hometown.’

He arranged to meet us mid-afternoon and show us what he said was the biggest fish market in the Northern Hemisphere.

‘I hope everyone has good walking shoes on,’ said Song when he met up with us on the esplanade.

‘Well, mine are okay but I don’t think I can go far with you just the same. I have to catch a train back to Daegu before they stop running,’ said Amos.

‘Do you have to be back for tomorrow?’ Song asked.

‘No, I have holidays for the rest of the week. But I don’t have accommodation here.’

‘Then there’s no problem. You can come to my family home and stay as long as you like. Most of the family is away but my young niece is cooking for us tonight. She’s looking forward to meeting you.’

Song went into his tourist guide mode as he led our group along the beach to see the statue of the little mermaid on the rocks and told us how it was built for a princess who missed her family across the sea. Amos walked with Song over the rise towards the fish market as we girls trailed behind.

‘He seems keen on you.’ Olga inclined her head towards Song. I shrugged and kept my eyes on my feet as we picked our way up the rough track leading to the headland.

‘You could give him some encouragement.’ Marilyn grinned.

I had never talked about my past. It was still too raw. I said nothing but realised that Song was the only person I had opened up to, to any extent at all, apart from my old friends back home. They would understand that I was not ready for a new relationship. Maybe it was only fair to allow these people, who had become such supportive good friends, into my life. I stopped still for a moment.

‘I’m just not ready to be involved in a new relationship. Please understand I’m not shutting you out. I just need time to work things out myself. I’ll explain later when the time’s right.’

Olga responded by putting an arm on my shoulder. ‘There’s no need to explain anything to us.’

‘There certainly isn’t,’ said Marilyn. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve been insensitive. You’re the last person I would want to hurt.’ Olga nodded in agreement.

We reached the top of the hill and caught up with Amos and Song, who were looking at the coastline below them. Song pointed out the fish markets strung along the shore. It was still a long way downhill from here.

‘The beach you can see beyond the fish markets is Gwang An Li Pado where my family home is. It’s much smaller than Haeundae Pado and more traditional. There are plans to build a bridge across to the headlands but there are protests against it constantly. Even people who don’t live there want to preserve its – specialness – is that a word?’

‘Sounds right to me,’ said Amos.

When we reached the fish markets we were grateful to sit down on some overturned crates near the waterfront while we enjoyed a cool drink. Song informed us on what we would be doing after looking through the market. His family ran a seafood restaurant on the small beach he had shown us from the top of the bluff. His parents were away visiting his sister and the restaurant was closed over Chuseok, but his niece had already made arrangements to entertain a group of her university friends. She would open the restaurant just for them, and she was excited to have Song’s foreign visitors join them.

‘We can buy some fresh seafood here to add to the dinner,’ said Song. ‘Then afterwards we’ll go to the university dorm building, where they plan to let off fireworks on the roof to celebrate Chuseok. If you are not too tired after that they will take you back to Haeundae to have drinks at the tables on the beach that will be set up outside the Westin Chosun Hotel. They want to teach you a new song and dance called the Macarena if you are game.’

‘All that in one night,’ said Olga.

‘Is it too much?’ asked Song, looking worried.

‘No!’ we chorused.

Our excitement built up throughout the night. The uni students spoke very good English and were fun to be with. We practiced the Macarena on the dormitory rooftop. Later on, while sitting under the stars on Haeundae Beach everyone was dragged up to stand on the esplanade wall as the request for the Macarena sounded out from the hotel. In a long line of friends and strangers we quite happily made fools of ourselves.

Song offered to walk back to our hotel before he and Amos caught a taxi to his parents’ house. He walked slowly with me behind the others and we talked like old friends.