Mr. Kim and His Family

It’s Friday night and I’m getting ready to go party in Downtown Daegu. This blog will have to be short. I blogged not too long anyway, and there're only a few things I want to mention before I roll. Right now I’m sitting in Mr. Kim’s restaurant waiting for him to get the grill going. The food in the Dining Hall at my school isn't what we would call quality back home, and I'm often really hungry for dinner. This isn't your typical restaurant, though. It’s a tent beside my apartment building with little, plastic, red and, blue tables with matching stools. The look like they belong in an after-school daycare center, and I love it. I actually find myself eating here more often than not. Mr. Kim likes that I am teaching English at the elementary school because he, himself, has daughter around that age. I come here at night to eat because they already treat me like I'm part of the family. I eat with them, no charge, and teach them English words like: empty/full, table/chair, more/less ect. Today my co-teacher and I went to the Immigration Office so I could apply for my alien registration card. It was convenient enough because the classes I was supposed to teach today were all sixth grade, and they were going on an “excursion” to a place I call Korean Disney Land. After our appointment at Alien Registration, I went to the hospital to see my co-teacher’s father. It was a surprise to me, but that’s fine. He was a very nice man. Then she brought me to her his house to drop off some of his belongings. There I met her mother, and she gave me some soda. Everyone is so damn nice!