The Ramen Diet


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Asia » South Korea » Busan
May 29th 2005
Published: June 11th 2005
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Delivery Order Gone Awry

Today, armed with a basic knowledge of hanegul and a few rote phrases I attempted to order some food from a local takeout place. I went over the phrases, given to me by my associate and friend Eric, I translated my address into phonetics, and finally, after saying a little prayer, I made the call. This is where I went wrong.

The guy started out speaking rapidly, which was not a good sign. I’m not sure what he said as a greeting, but thinking clearly out of the heat of the moment, it was probably something like, “Hello, , take out or delivery?” I immediately took this as an insult. How dare he greet me in such a manner? “An-nyoeng ha se yo,” I said, once I realized he wanted a response.

Sticks and Stones
Then he said something else, which could have been, “Fuck you, you foreigner swine,” or “Nice weather today, eh?” or even “I’m in the bathroom right now with my head between my knees.” It didn’t matter much to me, so I started to order. Things kept getting worse. He repeated my order, I think, and told me something about my mother or that it would be a certain price, I’m not sure. Maybe both, as in, “That will be 10000 Won, you son of a three-toed pirate’s whore, you mangled bleeding-syphilitic whoreson, you.” I gibbered out the address and there was some wrangling with the pronunciation. Also, I stated that I was in Pusan, perfectly normal for a complete retard. It’s not as if his shop was in Abu Dhabi. I said, “delivery,” in English, hoping that he would catch my drift, just like I caught his drift about my masturbatory habits (to antelope rape with Philadelphia cream cheese) earlier in our conversation. He began interrogating me, probably about sides, drinks, condiments, and how much urine I could drink in an hour. (Side note: I ordered from a picture on the menu without any knowledge of what it was. Beef? Chicken? Pork? Shrimp? Testicles? Styrofoam flakes in brown sauce? Doesn’t matter. If they call it food, I’ll try it.) I gave up. Hanging up the phone rudely and abruptly, muttering a few expletives and promising not to do business with such a rude person ever again.

What really bugged me is that he was laughing throughout the conversation. I could hear it, muffled, sadistic, and malicious. Of course, he may very well have thought that a child was playing a prank on the phone, or somehow a baby or a very badly brain damaged person with a hankering for Styrofoam flakes had gotten ahold of the phone, and was simply laughing at the absurdity of my answers to his quandaries.

For instance:

Him: Hello, this is Chuck at . Will this be take-out or delivery?

Me: Hello.

Him: Ahem. Hello? Takeout or delivery? What do you want?

Me: Fried chim….fried….chicken….please.

Him: Yes, fried chicken? Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Take-out or delivery?

Me: I am a foreigner.

Him: Wow, I have no idea what you just said. Hmm, Foreigner…I love them. Toto sucks, though, right? Take-out or delivery?

Me: Delivery.

Him: What? That’s gibber-jabber, boy .

Me:

Him: Look, can you put mommy or daddy on the phone?

Me: Pusan postal district, city proper, area 4…

Him: Ha ha ha. This is awesome. So we have an address. Not so difficult, is it? Yes, of course Pusan, we don’t deliver to Ethiopia. this is so fucked up, I wish I had some video of this guy.

Coworker: Hush. Maybe he’s retarded.

Him: You might be right. Okay, what area?

Me: 271 Yangjeong Street.

Him: Slow down, there, muchacho. What area?

Me: Fuck you, then. I don’t need your food and your attitude. Your business obviously doesn’t need me.

Him: Hello. Hello? Fucking rude. That was awesome, though. I think it was some kids, maybe, playing on the phone. Or a foreigner, maybe. Don’t you speak English, German, Dutch, and French?

Coworker: A little Spanish, too. Were you talking shit about Toto to that retard?

Him: Going to be one hungry Mongoloid if he thinks I’m delivering food without knowing where to go with it.

Me: Sons-of-bitches. Oh, let’s fuck with the alien, yeah, really funny, guy.

Coworker: You know how I feel about Toto, Chuck.

Him: Don’t even start. Just don’t. They suck, end of story…

Ramen and Perspective
So things could have been better. I just polished off another fine bowl of ramen (mushroom flavor, delicious), and with the clarity of a man sated on high-salt, low nutrition, high-MSG-content noodles, I can safely say that I know what it is to feel like an alien, although not quite as harshly as some experience it. There is an expat community here, and all the teachers at the schools I teach at have made a concerted effort to welcome me, to help me with the language, with socializing, with teaching, and with anything I have asked about. A poor Chilean immigrant in the U.S. probably has a much more difficult time.

The funny thing is, after the phone call I realized that my ignorance and frustration is not the other guy’s problem. Whether he was intentionally giving me a hard time or not is inconsequential: if I spoke Korean, there would be no miscommunication and no laughter directed at my lack of basic communication skills. But I don’t speak Korean, and so the situation in and of itself is funny. I might as well be making buck-buck sounds at a chicken and asking it to serve me a meal in Fowl. Even if the chicken understands and responds (“You had better be a vegetarian. Straight up, too, none of that ovo lacto horseshit.”), I can’t understand the chicken’s response. Then I speak at the chicken in English, as if the chicken could understand me. I learned something else, which is that unless the native speaker of a language is extremely patient and forgiving of his or her native tongue’s utter butchery, there is not a chance of a desirable outcome for either party. When I am finally able to order take-out, I will do a victory dance. Until then, fuck it, I like ramen.



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11th June 2005

Christ, Andrew. I don't think I've laughed that hard in a long time. Oh man. Hey, I like ramen too, but you certainly can't live off of noodles in water with salt in it forever. You best get on learning the language. But I'm assuming you know this. So...nevermind. Love you!
17th June 2005

Are You Saving These?
You best be. Make a book out of it. This is serious humor! (Er, uh...huh?) Maybe you could call it Chicken Ramen For The Traveller's Soul. Keep your head up. And keep in touch! Love, Cait

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