A Mother's First Journey Abroad
They're not even that surprised, though.
I'd figured that once I got to campus, Se-hyeon—or maybe Heeyeon—would give me a hard time about it. What I truly hadn't expected was that nobody seemed particularly amazed I'd restored a cultural treasure.
What's going on here?
During the break I handed Se-hyeon a canned coffee and asked him outright.
"Oh, what's this? Thanks. Man, a good-looking artisan like you sure is generous."
"That's enough—just the first verse. But more importantly, you're not even surprised?"
"Surprised about what?"
"About me restoring cultural treasures. A guy who used to live in an internet cafe three hundred and sixty-five days a year is out here doing that, and it doesn't faze you?"
Se-hyeon tilted his head, looking as if he genuinely couldn't see the problem.
"What's there to be surprised about?"
"What?"
"Come on, you know what I mean. Honestly, Cheolwoo, your grades weren't great, but your practical scores were always solid, and everyone in the department already knew your hands were ridiculously gifted."
"…Was I good with my hands?"
It had been a hundred years. I couldn't recall details that fine. What I did remember was that my grades had been downright terrible. Someone had once looked at my transcript and said, "With scores like these, they'll be putting you on the national team soon."
"Nobody came out and said it, but who in our department didn't know you were good with your hands? Sure, people think it's wild seeing you on TV—but they accept it, because it's you."
"……"
Was that how it was…?
Perhaps those hundred years on Mount Olympus hadn't been the whole of my skill after all.
Se-hyeon finished his coffee, crumpled the can, and tossed it into the trash. Then he turned back to me.
"Anyway—what are you doing the week after next?"
"The week after next? Why?"
He gave me a look that asked whether I had been living under a rock.
"We don't have class the week after next. You didn't know? Festival week and all that—most of the lectures are cancelled."
I'd been so busy that class had amounted to little more than occupying a seat. I hadn't even noticed the announcement.
"Was that so… Not sure what I'll do. I don't have anything planned. You?"
Se-hyeon slung his bag over his shoulder as he answered.
"What's a senior supposed to do? Job hunting. I've got to study for my technician's license, too. I've got a mountain of stuff. You got anything lined up?"
"Hmm… Beats me…"
I hadn't planned a thing. Commissions were coming in, but I wasn't the type to take work without end. The backlog I had now would be cleared by sometime next week.
Hmm…
A week of unexpected vacation, dropped in my lap.
"I hadn't even thought about it. What am I supposed to do with that…? Should I just take on more work?"
"You could. Or you could go on a trip for once. It's been a while."
"A trip?"
"Yeah. If you don't go now, when will you?"
"A trip, huh…"
It might not be a bad idea. I'd worked myself to the bone for a hundred years. Didn't I deserve a little something in return?
"Mom. You all packed?"
"Hold on. Where did I put my passport?"
She rummaged in a panic. A moment later—
"Ah, here it is. Just a second."
She came out to the front door pulling her suitcase, then looked up at me with a flicker of unease.
"But is this really all right? Cheolwoo, aren't you overdoing it? The two of us traveling together isn't going to be cheap."
I took her by the arm and steered her outside.
"Aigoo, Mom. The plane tickets and everything else are already booked. Come on, let's go."
I said goodbye one last time to Coco, who was loafing on the cat tower, and shut the door.
"Coco, hold down the fort."
"Meow~"
We stepped outside, loaded her suitcase and mine into the back of my truck, and climbed in.
"All right. Shall we?"
That was when Mom unbuckled her seatbelt again, as if she'd forgotten something.
"Aigoo, wait—I think I didn't leave Coco enough food. Let me just go back and—"
I smiled and clicked her seatbelt back into place.
"Mom. I filled the bowl to the brim right before we left. And I asked one of the younger students to come by every day and check on her. You don't have to worry."
"You did?"
It hadn't been free, of course. The moment I said I'd pay fifty thousand won a day, they all threw their arms open and practically fought for the job.
"So no more worrying. All we have to do now is enjoy the trip."
I'd sprung the overseas travel idea on her rather suddenly, and because it was her first time leaving the country, the worries had come in layers. First the cost, then the guilt over Jeonghwan not being able to come, then Coco. She'd never left the house for this long before, and that seemed to weigh on her most of all.
It's only three nights and four days, though…
I told her not to worry, and reassured her once more.
"Mrs. Baek Jeongsun. Don't worry about a thing. Just follow me. I'll be your perfect guide."
"This kid, honestly…"
Only then did the crease of worry begin to leave her face.
"All right. Off we go—to Osaka."
My first trip abroad, and my mother's first trip abroad, was a three-night, four-day journey to Osaka.
"Good heavens—are all these people Korean?"
The moment we arrived at Kansai International Airport, Mom stared at the immigration hall packed wall to wall with people and looked genuinely appalled.
"They won't all be Korean. I'd bet half of them are Chinese."
"Aigoo, when are we ever going to get through this?"
I'd originally wanted to take her to a smaller city with fewer tourists. But she'd said that if we were going to Japan, she wanted to see Kyoto, so I'd set our destination for Kansai.
Still. I didn't think it'd be this crowded…
Fortunately the line moved faster than it looked, and we reached downtown far sooner than I'd expected. The moment we arrived, I led her straight to a Japanese restaurant in the city center.
It was one of the more popular spots even in downtown Osaka—the kind of place you normally had to reserve well in advance. I'd gotten us in on a connection.
"You're going to Osaka, Master? Ah—in that case, I know a sushi chef there quite well. I'll put in a word. Do pay him a visit. He's truly excellent."
Oh. Even the entrance…
The entrance alone radiated an atmosphere that said, quite plainly, I am expensive.
Mom leaned in and asked, not entirely convinced.
"Cheolwoo. Is this place really all right? I would have been fine with that conveyor-belt sushi by the station."
"Mom. Your son wants to treat you for once. Just come in. The reservation's already made."
"W-well, if you say so…"
I gave the staff our name, and they led us straight to seats with a clear view of the chef. The moment we sat down, a voice I hadn't expected at all reached us.
"Welcome."
Korean, from a place I never would have guessed. The most startled person at the counter was my mother.
"Oh my—you speak Korean?"
The chef answered without looking up from the fish he was preparing.
"Yes. My mother is Korean. You must be Master Kang Cheolwoo, and Master Kang's mother, yes? I've heard a great deal from Chef Lee Jin-seong. He said Master Kang's skill at crafting things is extraordinary."
The praise seemed to please her. The stiffness in her expression eased, and a smile found its way onto her face.
"Really? My son's skills are known all the way in Japan?"
"Of course. Word has been spreading quietly among Japanese chefs as well. Quite a few of them have said that if they ever go to Korea, they absolutely have to pay him a visit."
Is that true?
I'd been taking the compliments at face value, but the idea that talk of me had already reached Japan left me with a strange, faintly giddy feeling.
The chef finished speaking and began sending out the courses one by one. First came a Japanese savory steamed egg custard called chawanmushi, a clear soup, and sashimi.
Mom took one spoonful of the chawanmushi and let out a breath of wonder.
"Good heavens. How is steamed egg this silky?"
The chef explained the dish at an unhurried pace.
"With Japanese-style steamed egg, we remove every last bit of the chalazae before steaming. That's how you get a texture this smooth."
"I see. I thought I was eating pudding. Oh my—and this sashimi is so fresh."
Watching her, a number of thoughts drifted through my mind.
Course after course followed—white-fleshed fish, red-fleshed fish, sushi, and a dessert to close. When the meal was done, I had to admit that, objectively, it may have fallen a little short of Chef Lee Jin-seong's Cheonghak. But Sushi Dou was no ordinary house either. The depth of skill behind that counter was the real thing.
"Thank you, Chef. That was remarkable. I've never had Japanese food this good."
"Not at all. I'm the one who should be glad—it's a pleasure to cook for people who enjoy it so much."
"I ate so well too! Next time I come to Japan, I'm coming back here!"
We finished our thanks, stood, and I reached for the check. The staff member wouldn't take the card I held out, waving it away with both hands.
What? They don't take cards?
I offered cash instead. He still wouldn't take it.
What is going on…
A moment later, I had my answer.
"Ah—Master Kang! I've already taken care of the entire meal."
"I'm sorry…?"
I was more than a little thrown. We'd never met before, and as far as I knew, lunch here ran over twenty thousand yen a person. Covering two of us would be a burden even for the chef of a place like this.
"No, then I really can't—that's too much—"
The chef hurried over and dropped his voice.
"It's truly all right… Instead… I'm going to Korea next month. Would it be all right if I visited your workshop…?"
"……"
Now it made a little more sense. This was a kind of bribe. I'll be coming to Korea next month to commission a knife, so please look after me.
So he was one of the chefs who'd said they had to visit if they went to Korea…
I felt faintly as if I'd been played, but we'd eaten extraordinarily well, and Mom had been happy. That was enough.
I smiled and handed him my number.
"Haha. Understood. This is my Korean number. Get in touch before you come, and I'll keep the time free."
The chef bowed at a full ninety degrees.
"Thank you, Master! I'll be sure to visit soon!"
Mom looked at me, clearly not following any of it.
"Cheolwoo. You didn't pay, did you? Are you short on money?"
"No. Looks like I'll be settling the bill another way later."
"Another way? What does that mean?"
"It's a thing. More importantly—did you like it?"
She answered with a smile that filled her whole face.
"It was incredibly delicious."
Then her expression shifted into something quieter, almost homesick.
"If only your father could have eaten something like this while he was still alive…"
"Mom…"
Her eyes were happy and, at the same time, faintly sad. The two of them had been so close before he passed. It was only natural she would think of him here.
"Aigoo, what am I saying on a trip. Come on, let's go. It's our first time abroad—we should see as much as we can!"
I smiled back at her.
"Yes. Let's go."
And so the first day and the second went—four meals a day, wandering from place to place.
Then came the long-awaited third day of the trip: the day we would visit Kyoto, the city Mom had wanted to see most of all.
We walked slowly along Gion Street, and she spoke as we went.
"I saw Kyoto on television years ago. It looked so old and beautiful I told myself I had to come here someday."
"And now that you're actually here?"
"It's wonderful. This atmosphere, these old buildings… Next time, when Jeonghwan gets out of the army, let's come again—the three of us. Then Mom will save up hard and pay for both her boys."
"……"
She knew perfectly well I was making decent money now. And still, not once had she ever held out a hand to me first. Somewhere in her, the old conviction remained: a mother must not become a burden to her son.
I was the burden my whole life…
Whenever she said things like that, I found myself resenting the Kang Cheolwoo of a hundred years ago—and wanting, all the more, to treat her well.
That was when she suddenly stopped walking.
"Cheolwoo. Shall we go in here? It looks like a museum."
The building had a quietly old-fashioned air about it—the kind of presence that could have belonged to a museum, or perhaps a very expensive restaurant.
"Hold on a second."
I ran the sign through my phone's image translator to see what the place actually was.
"It says it's a calligraphy museum."
"A calligraphy museum? Then let's go in and have a look. I may not look it, but I did a bit of calligraphy when I was young."
"All right."
I took my brightly smiling mother's hand, and together we stepped slowly through the doors.