KIM IN-SOOK

a broad smile that brightened her timid face and set loose in me a flood of welcome emotions. Perhaps I was just glad that there was someone I knew in that part of the world.

That afternoon Chae-geum stayed by my side while I did my shopping. She pointed out that I could buy this or that more cheaply in the open air Chinese markets.When my shopping basket grew heavy, she came up from behind unnoticed to carry it for me. Perhaps it was the absence of the tension I’d felt at the hotel, the tension created when money changes hands, that made Chae-geum’s Korean sound fine to me although it was undoubtedly as awkward as it had been that day. She pointed to the fish cake I had just picked up and asked me what it was called in Korea. When I replied, she said: “Isn’t it called eodaeng?” She probably meant odaeng, but I didn’t have the heart to correct her. On one hand, what matters is getting the meaning across to other people. On the other hand, I didn’t want to make an issue of an error in pronunciation when she would have to confront much more than simple language barriers in the future. Still, when all is said and done, doesn’t it all really come down to language? I didn’t have the words to express it.

The sun was setting by the time we’d finished shopping and stepped out of the store. The familiar yellow sign of a McDonald’s caught my eye. Since I still felt wary of eating unfamiliar Chinese food, even with Chae-geum there to translate, and it was a bit early for dinner, I asked her if she’d care for a hamburger. She told me that the word for hamburger in China is hanbao, while McDonald’s is called maidanglao.There, where foreign words rarely make their way into the mother tongue, people understand cola only when it is pronounced as the tongue-twister, kele, while French fries are shutiao. Whether you call it McDonald’s or maidanglao makes no difference. Fast and simple, a packaged fantasy – and the ultimate in capitalism – McDonald’s have popped up on Chinese streets.

The store was an exact replica of those in Korea, and was similarly packed with young people. Like an aunt with her young niece, I followed Chae-geum to an empty table. The familiar aroma of hamburgers and fries chased away the strange smell from the street, and calmed my upset stomach. Chae-geum ordered fries and a cola, refusing my offer of a hamburger as her father was expecting her for dinner. Having no appetite at all, I sipped at a cola and gazed out the window to the street where dusk was spreading and the neon lights

BANIPAL 43 – SPRING 2012 169