Hail May, full of grace.

May is my vote for the best month in Korea so far. Not only has the weather been superb, there are three extra holidays (2 three-day weekends plus a special holiday just for my university) as well as endless field days and special events happening outdoors on campus. Tonight, again, as I left my building after class, I heard the familiar sounds of Korean folk instruments, but this sounded better than your usual rehearsal. Excited, I quickened my steps across the road. Sure enough, there were a group of musicians dancing and performing in the parking lot on my way home. I spotted one of my club members and he came over and made some friendly and incoherent comments, acting more familiar with me than usual--from which I concluded he was happily drunk, and also that he sincerely likes and cares about me, which is nice to know. The dancing and playing ended and my friend disappeared, but not before others of the performers had welcomed me and invited me to go drink with them afterwards.

The dancing wrapped up quickly (I literally think I caught the last 5 minutes) and then I helped break down their tent and carry everything upstairs into the club's meeting room where I've often practiced drumming before. Two dozen people arranged themselves in a circle on the padded floor where a ring of newspaper had been spread with food: slices of meat which I was later told was pressed pig head, hot green peppers and raw garlic to dip in fermented bean and hot chili paste, Korean sushi rolls, some delicious potato pancakes, Asian pear, various crunchy snacks, and of course plenty of several kinds of alcohol: beer, potato vodka, and rice wine.

I was greeted with great care and attention and seated at a place of honor, I think, at one end of the newspaper oval. One student who was confident in his English came over to sit next to me, and slowly others got bold and introduced themselves.

A Korean party is a totally different animal from a North American party. There is a structure to the event that follows naturally from the social hierarchy. There is a beginning, a middle, and an end. You don't wander around much; you sit, though it's okay to move and join a different part of the group. Younger ones scurry around making sure older ones have what they need. When we were all assembled, people stood in groups of three or four to do formal self-introductions and bow. Alcohol was not drunk until everyone's glass had been poured and we had toasted. Each time someone left the party, at least some of the group stood and said goodbye. Usually conversation was broken into clusters around the circle, but at times we were all attentive to the oldest member, an old student who had begun school in 1985 and who carried the collective memory of the group. When, during such a moment, one of the students mistakenly quoted my age as 22 instead of 32*, penance was promptly demanded by the whole group in the form of a song. He good-naturedly apologized (age is of the utmost importance in Korea) and sang for us.

The music was the high point of the evening for me (with the college boys all thinking I was 22 coming in a close second). After we had eaten and drunk plenty, the elder asked me whether I was interested in folk music. Was I! He then suggested that the group would sing Arirang for me, and I should sing an American folk song in return. I eagerly agreed. Arirang was beautiful, and (unexpectedly, to me) everyone joined hands in a circle for this. Then I sang Amazing Grace, and they graciously requested an encore, which sounded more like "Ankle! Ankle!" I also got to hear a few more beautiful Korean folk songs and some awesome drumming from the best group members.

At one point I was shown a photo album from 1995. "I don't know who these people are," the student next to me confessed. "This is our heritage," he explained, reverently closing the album after the last page and replacing it with care. The pictures on those pages were full of life--field trips, mask dances, rehearsals, candids of a beloved teacher talking to students on a bus. The people looked somehow wilder and more freely creative than most I meet here. I could see why he treasured such a legacy.


*I am 31 by standard reckoning. My Korean age is 32 because I was one year old when I was born and I turned 2 on my first New Year's Day, January 1st 1978. A baby born 10 months after me at the end of December would also have been considered 2 years old on January 1st, only a few weeks after her birth.