This is part 1 of 2 (or possibly 3) posts.
My friend, Paul Graves, invited me to go hiking with him in the 'Land of 10,000 Budhas' in Odaeson National Park. The park is south of Seoul, and we decided to drive there on a Saturday. I brought my trusty roadmap, which had been issued to me by the Army as soon as I stepped off the plane. We estimated that it would take about two hours to get to our destination. We mapped it out and started driving.
We stopped at a rest stop for a break and lunch. Highway rest stops in Korea are like no others that I have ever seen in any other country. They are really a food meccah. It's a little like going to the foodcourt at an American mall. So many wonderful foods to choose from. Eating in Korea was always hard for me (more about that when I finally get to November). As someone who does not eat meat at all or chicken away from home, it was hard for me to determine what I could eat. I could not read menus or speak the language well enough to ask what was in a dish. I had to guess, point at someone else's plate, or go hungry. It was much easier in coastal areas because the diet consisted of so much seafood, which I love. But Paul and I were not on the coast. However, at the highway reststops there are pictures! I'm sure this is probably a relic from the Olympics in 1988. It felt so liberating to be able to choose what I wanted to eat without trepidation!
So I chose a lovely dish called bibimbap. I already knew that bap meant rice, but the rest was a new experience to me. Turns out, this is a very common Korean dish that is served almost everywhere. It is made up of many vegetables and an egg served over rice, with a hot red sauce in the middle, and is served with a spoon and chopsticks. Paul and I sat down and I began to eat with chopsticks. Right away I decided I did not care for the red sauce. Before long (within seconds), I noticed that a lady who was mopping the floors kept walking behind my seat, and seemed to slow down when she neared me. After about the third pass, she stopped and gestured something to me, moving her arm in a circle and talking the whole time. I had a hard time understanding what she meant, but I tried to smile politely. Finally, Paul said, "I think she wants you to use your spoon." That was odd, but I tried it. I began eating with my spoon. Again, she gestured the wide circles with her arms, though this time the circles were much more vigorous and her words seemed more intense. "Should I stir it?" I asked her. She spoke exactly zero words of English, and I spoke exactly three words in Korean, so our conversation was going nowhere, and I tried stirring my meal. I'll admit I did this lightly, so as not to disturb too many of the vegetables or mix the red sauce into too much of my rice. This seemed to appease the woman a little, and she grumbled something and started mopping again, keeping one eye on me the whole time.
Soon, we needed napkins, so I stood up to get some. Like in a foodcourt, the napkins were across the room, so I had to move away from the table to get them. When I returned, the woman was actually sitting in my seat, mop propped against the next table, and was vigorously (almost violently) stirring my meal. Paul gave me a look that clearly said, "How was I supposed to stop her?" I waited patiently for several more seconds before she put down the spoon, stood up, handed me my chopsticks, and said something that was probably like, "There! Now you can eat!" I told her 'thank you' several times in Korean, took my seat, and finished my meal, definitely schooled in the manner in which one eats bibimbap.
Interestingly, when I returned to work on Monday and told this story to some of my Korean friends, they nodded in agreement with the custodian's actions. One simply CANNOT eat bibimbap without stirring in the sauce!
What I learned (and grew to love the longer I lived there), is that most Koreans have an intense pride in their country and their culture. Everyone, even the custodian, wants to share it and ensure that their visitors have an authentic and enjoyable experience. And that makes living there a richer experience in itself. And lends itself to some great stories!
And by the way, bibimbap became a staple dish for me, though I learned how to order it without the red sauce. Servers always looked at me like I had three heads when I made my request, and at least twice someone refused to serve it without the sauce, but at least then I could stir away to my heart's desire (and their's) without ruining my meal.
Just look at this. It's beautiful. I'm sure you can see why I, not knowing the history of this dish, would want to eat it as-is.
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