Man wanted to introduce Asna to his significant other.
I found this out when I asked Asna out, but she told me she’d been booked by Man for that Saturday, to accompany him and his (girl) friend to some place.
She sighed when she said it, like she wasn’t willing to go.
I pretended to be offended at Man.
“Why does he want to introduce you to her, but not me?”
“I don’t know!” she shrugged.
“Hmm. If he introduced her to me, she’ll probably be terrified of me and go away.”
Asna’s evil smile was on.
“Then, maybe you should follow us…”
While she has known Reza since forever and never minded us dating, Asna’s concerned when it comes to Man dating other girls.
Asna’s back every other weekend.
The times she’s allowed to return overnight, she would return from Friday to Saturday.
Most times she’s only allowed to spend the day out and she’s spend it by going back home in the morning and returning to school in the late afternoon, almost every Saturday and Saturday.
Parents don’t have a life on most weekends because all they do is fetch her from school and then send her back. It’s not that Asna asks them to, but it’s like they see it as given.
“Don’t you feel bad that Mama and Babah are always picking you up and sending you back on Saturdays and Sundays?” I asked.
Her face was almost saying that it’s not her problem, but she hesitated and instead, said:
“If they want to sacrifice their time for me… I leave it up to them.”
Even so, I’m still impressed by the angle she chose in responding to me.
How can you truly appreciate a city without knowing its origins?
We were curious to know more about Seoul. Our previous visits to other places before this helped provide a different glimpses of the history of the city, but we were hoping to learn even more about it. Where else would be the right place to connect the dots if not for Seoul Museum of History?
Despite the heavy rain that day, we were adamant on making the trip and took a bus to get there.
Reminiscing with Asna the moments where she was a pain in the ass.
“I was such a brat right?”
“Yeah. Remember the time you threw a tantrum at the immigration department and rolled on the floor screaming that everyone was looking and judging us and making faces? Such a pain. Mama told me to take you away so I had to drag you from the floor with force and bring you to the supermarket on another block and get a KitKat (it had to be KitKat) to feed you for you to stop crying.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Asna is gifted with a stronger than average memory for things except for the times when she causes trouble and embarrassment to everyone else. She smiled though, because she was certain of the possibility of it happening.
Her response, with a proud face, in an attempt to make everything konon better:
“Well, just remember… that there are always other brats worse than me.”
My eyes hurt from rolling so hard.
Still in my towel after shower, I walked to Asna’s room and knocked on her door for a chat.
She opened the door a little. Having taken a shower just before that, Asna was in her towel, too.
We chatted for a short while. Before I left, she noticed we were both in our towels.
She gasped and gleefully said:
“You’re in your towel too!!!”
She did a pose and danced and dabbed:
I offered my hand and she gave me a five.
Before we started the on boarding session at the school, my classmates and I 50+ of us gathered for the first time the night before for dinner. It was H’s initiative, the Japanese who emailed those in the class mailing list to suggest that we hold an ice-breaking session before class starts. As expected, the rest of the Japanese joined him in organizing the dinner meeting. The fact that it is referred as a meeting already sets a formal tone to it! After confirming our attendances, H sent us a spreadsheet of names of those who signed up — not just names, the columns included our names, middle name, surnames, nicknames, gender and citizenship. What did I say about it being formal? 😆
Most of us made it to the dinner. It was held at an izakaya at Jimbocho, just a 5-minute walk from the school. That day Reza and I were spending time going to places we usually go. Before night came, he walked me to the dinner, purposely taking the route I was going to take to go to school. We checked the school for a minute before he accompanied me to the izakaya.
At the entrance, the Japanese was already there to greet everyone else, ticking names, collecting the funds and assigning us to our seats (THEY EVEN ASSIGNED SEATS!). I got a corner seat, sitting across R, the Indian vegetarian. Non-meat and alcoholic drinkers sit at the corner LOLOL. The organizers ordered a standard menu for all, but for all the nabe and teriyaki that I couldn’t eat, they compensated it with sashimi, just for me.