Happy Chuseok!

I awoke this past Wednesday, cloudy Chuseok morning to my friend Rishika calling, inviting me over for a Merry Chuseok lunch. Chuseok in Korea, is kind of like the American Thanksgiving: family members travel across the country back to their hometowns and food is the centerpiece of the celebration. I have to admit, other than that, I don't know a lot about Chuseok. Each year here, I keep expecting an invitation from one of my Korean friends or co-workers to help celebrate in the festivities. Every time, I'm half relieved to escape an invitation (thanking the gods that I avoided an evening full of fast talking Koreans, in which I hardly understand anything-- conjuring up childhood traumas of being forced to attend Korean school as a five-year-old. Begrudgingly every Sunday, my sister and I sat in class with other "real" Korean kids, half-heartedly singing the latest song of the week, not having a clue what we were actually singing about), half let down that I've missed out in such a significant cultural ritual; an authentic peek into the Land of the Morning Calm's biggest holiday.

I thought this year I'd finally earned real access into the lives of my fellow Koreans. Last Friday my co-teacher asked what I was doing for Chuseok, in which my reply was something like "I'm really looking forward to reading Tom Brokaw's new memoir!" I braced myself for the invite. "Here it comes," I thought. "My first real invitation to a Korean's house!"

"I really want to invite you over for Chuseok," her brow furrows. "But I'm afraid I'm just too busy with cooking and my in-laws."

Oh Korea, how you perplex me.

Serendipitously enough, Rishika's parents are visiting Seoul this week from Peoria, Illinois and she lives a convenient seven minute walk down the street. "My mom is cooking lunch," Rishika says. "Do you like lentils?" Why of course, I love lentils.

"Is there any wheat in any of the seasoning?" I ask sheepishly, forever being paranoid of coming off as the picky, unappreciative guest. I was in luck, for the only allergy precaution on the seasoning label was "may have been processed in the same facility as nuts." Perfect.

So Rishika, her father and mother, and I enjoyed a delicious Indian lunch on our quiet Chuseok afternoon: white rice, moong daal lentils, carrots, and potatoes, perfectly seasoned with just enough spice. It was amazing. I hadn't eaten a home-cooked Indian meal since my study abroad trip to India in 2003! I had seconds, then thirds. Remembering my mother's advice never to outwear your welcome at a guest's house, I soon left after noticing Rishika's mom started to pace back and forth in the small apartment. She generously packed up a bag of burfi, an Indian sweet made of almonds, butter, and sugar for me to take home, as well as a rice floured, (hence wheat-free) chip-like snack called chucklee.

As strange of a way to celebrate this Korean holiday, I thoroughly enjoyed my Chuseok company and meal. Thanks Mrs. Murthy! We adoptees live such charmed, albeit strange lives.