I met a Korean exchange student. She is studying English literature: I saw her notice on the university noticeboard and called the mobile number. I will call her Y. I am sure if she reads this she will know who I am and be offended. When I telephoned my voice was deeper than usual, very slow, drawling, almost, because of the rivers of snot in the back of my throat. I was trying to be effusive, charming, and offhand, but I doubt very much whether any of that translated through my cold. I am guessing she is 22 years old. She is not a classic beauty, but there is something intriguing, captivating, about her, especially her personality and her style of talking.
Anyone who studies words is no doubt perverse in some way — it's such a strange way to spend your life, since we are all already born with the ability to make words — but I am digressing. What I mean is that she already fascinated me, only in the space of five minutes of talking, although when I first walked up to meet her outside a large, unfriendly university building filled with a mob of self conscious, pretentious young students, I found her to be almost unattractive. She had the classic black hair, straight, and a promising petite body, but she was wearing a cheap, pink coloured tracksuit top, and she had thick, studious glasses on. I remember now that a friend of mine who travels to Korea often told me that no self respecting woman there would ever be seen wearing glasses. Contact lenses only. So why, I wonder, does Y not bother? Her personality, I think, is self assured. And I like that.
"Yobosayo, Anyahasaya, Sugahasao ... that's all I know in Korean I'm afraid."
"Oh really? So you need to start from the beginning" she smiled. I smiled too. I told her I wanted to learn because my girlfriend is Korean.
"Why don't you have her teach her?" she was quick to ask.
"She is always busy during the day ... I hardly ever see her. We both study." I said this, watching her closely. She had many questions about this. She wanted to know all about her (my girlfriend). After Y and I had lunch, I learnt that Y wanted me to correct her written English, I discovered that she has no lover (that's how she put it), that she just broke up with her Korean boyfriend before leaving Seoul three months ago. We went to the library together, and I felt like a naughty schoolboy again. She was almost pressed against me as we looked through the Korean language books together on a bottom shelf. The library building is underlit, it is like a strange, forbidden chamber, housing students like underground moles, blind to the outside world and light. With these almost hallucinatory conditions, I started to dream that I was touching her, holding her, and at any time I would be free to kiss her or do whatever I liked. It was difficult to control my breathing, and I swear I saw her cheeks flush read. We could neither of us bear to look at each other.
After I couldn't stand it anymore I pretended that my leg had gone numb. She was very concerned: I said I seem to sit in this position for too long at my desk, so my leg often gets pins and needles. "Pins and needles?"
