There is a Chinese Restaraunt in my town. Calling the town mine might be a stretch. I am here in Korea. The town is here in Korea. I'm in the town. I doubt the town is mine though. There is one Chinese restaraunt. I go there once a week. Sometimes twice a week. I always order Jajamien.
An old man runs the place. He might be Chinese. I walk my dog down the main street of town every night. I open the door push Elias to the side and bellow, "Anyeonghaseyo". From the back bumbles the old man he grins and pushes a menu toward me. People walking down the sidewalk dart into traffic to avoid getting close to Eli. I smile and say "Jajamien joseo". He shapes a bag with his hand and points to the door. I smile and nod again. The people in this town must think foreigners smile a lot.
He shuts the door and I wait for the noodles to cook. Elias does his best to look cute. The Korean children giggle daring each other to pet him. We try to stand against the building to avoid scaring 40 year old women. The bean and meat sauce cook in ten minutes and get dumped on the noodles. The old man pops out of the door and I give him the 3500 won for my dineer. I tried to give the a bowl to put it in. They put the noodles in a Styrofoam bowl anyway. I smile, again, say, "Gansamneda" and scatter the crowd of children gathered around Elias, the noodles get cold in ten minutes.