I'm expecting you.
Most Koreans get a little perplexed if I tell them I like rain. Rain in Seoul means acid rain; acid rain means you will carry an umbrella so that the chemicals don't get on your skin. (I own four umbrellas now. Do you still know me?) Umbrellas are heavy and inconvenient to carry on crowded streets. Everything gets wet. (Did I tell you most people also carry umbrellas when it snows in the winter? Again, because of the pollution.)
It never really occurred to me before that having grown up in a place where the air and the rain and the snow were not strongly affected by pollution could be a sort of privilege. Had I grown up in Seoul, I would probably not have the same fondness for rain. I would connect it with unhealthiness and inconvenience; I would grow tired of the humidity and the yearly monsoons.
As it is, I connect rain with peaceful sounds and fresh smells and cool air and calmness. So far I've found one of my students who grew up in Seoul, but likes rain just as much as I do. He's an oddball, I like him.
It rained all day today, but it wasn't the monsoon. The monsoon hasn't come yet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment