Not long ago I visited my Brooklynite friend for the weekend in a neighboring Korean city of some size. To reach the entrance of the building where he lives, we had to pass through, ostensibly, a kind of garden/courtyard throughout which were dispersed western style tables, chairs, and round stools made from the stumps of trees that had some of the roughness sanded off, and a coat of lacquer applied. The evening was clear and the temperature was mild, but nobody was enjoying the lovely outdoors in this sort of spacious exterior room, which in France or the States would have been crowded on such a pleasant night as this one.

The Koreans like to have their Soju served to them while sitting on the floor, cross-legged in style Buddha, all gathered around long, low tables. As the evening was about to fall upon us, we could see some light emitting from those little huts Peeping in the windows revealed that some of the huts were inhabited. I marveled at these curious customs in this strange land that I am getting to know. The huts are actually miniature party rooms, private enough indeed, since the Koreans like to dine and drink on the floor (one ritual, dining, perfunctorily follows the other, drinking, and strictly in that order).

Meanwhile, I remained puzzled at the necessity for the isolation of these little dog houses when the terrace was so much more inviting. In conjecture, I imagined that maybe they need them when they having their loud and rowdy after dinner parties, to be assured they won?t disturb the neighbors; but could they be any louder than Americans? I don?t know! Let?s just say they?re at least as loud as Americans, once they get going on their Soju! In looking at those huts, a flash came across my mind of the French in their toilet stalls. Oh! Surely not, it must be a cultural difference, something about eating in privacy that I don?t understand yet; but I swear to anyone, the site of those huts certainly evokes such images!

Another shocking revelation I had during my first week here was that, traditional Koreans don?t drink anything during their meals. There might well be a toast of Soju once everyone is seated and served, at which time they gulp down a shot of their Korean version of old time-white lightening. Then perhaps another toast and shot as well somewhere along the course of the meal; but none of the wine sipping and savoring of the French. No, to my chagrin, none at all! Another interesting phenomenon is that Koreans rarely speak a word to one another other during the course of their meals. They simply sit together slurping, sucking and bolting their food as quickly as possible so they can quickly get themselves down to the truly serious business, that of drinking! As one Korean so aptly explained to me, ?We don?t talk during meals because we only have one mouth!? Well put there comrade! The first time I had lunch with a group of them, I had the uneasy impression that they were all mad at each other. They go at their food in a certain aggressive manner.

Back to the terrace, we?re passing through when we decide to go into a restaurant-bar which borders one side of the enclosure. The host is a well-kept middle aged gentleman with an aire de debonaire about him! We had some drinks in this open, spacious establishment, and I couldn?t keep from wondering why they needed those doggie basilicas when there was this nice restaurant, which had plenty of cozy booths available. The restaurant is much more aesthetically pleasing than those little huts, but maybe it?s a matter of my Western sensibilities, I thought.

Stay tuned for PART 2 Next Week!

Adventurous spirit at heart, Mitzi is oginally from the rock and roll music capital, Austin, Texas. She has pushed her way around the globe from an eleven year sejour in Paris to currently teaching in Asia. Although a hopeless Francophile, she can now be found in Saigon, where she is writing and teaching English. For her complete bio, click here.

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