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.
Asna was back. She comes back every weekend. “Kids these days”, Reza says every now and then, as he shakes his head.
We were having a meal on the dining table.
Asna told us she joined the Girl Scounts as her badan beruniform at new school. We asked her why she switch since she was part of the Red Cross (PBSM) in her last.
Man said to her:
“Asna, you’re still part of PBSM!”
Asna was like:
Then he said:
“Persatuan Balik Setiap Minggu!”
Everyone was like:
I told Asna to laugh because somebody needed to support his lame jokes 🙄
Suddenly she burst into genuine laughter.
“That’s a good one!”
Then she gave him a high five.
Damn. Terlalu mudah terhibur.
Among Asna’s highlight of going to boarding school is doing laundry on her own.
Before she left, Mama taught her how to wash clothes with hands, but she never did it on her own, without supervision.
So now that’s she’s in charge of her own clothes, she has to.
She seemed so proud about it. When we asked how school was in her earlier weeks, she would on and on talk about washing clothes with her hands.
“How do you wash clothes?”