MyeongHee and I went to Pohang this weekend for her mother’s 70th birthday party. In Korea, the 70th is a big deal and they break out all the traditions.

Above, my “JangMoNim,”  Korean for mother-in-law, is dressed in her hanbok  gown and seated at the table. Only the fruit and multi-tiered cake are real – the rest are plastic imitations of traditional foods. The screen behind her showing traditional Korean lifestyle they bring out for celebrations  such as this. Ordinarily, its a beautiful wooden chest that holds their bedding.

I don’t her name, I just called her JangMoNim, even though I’m not yet married to MyeongHee. Koreans don’t use names for family members. The concept is not totally foreign – as an American, Mom and Dad were what I called my parents. Koreans take it a step further. Actually, many steps further.

Above, the entire family gathers around the birthday girl.  On the left, in their own hanboks, is my JeoNam (brother in law) and his wife. He is MyeongHee’s younger brother, who she only refers to as DongSaeng, or younger brother. His wife is known only as sister. Next, in the western suit, is MyeongHee’s older brother, who she refers to as ObPa, or a woman’s older brother. He says I am to call him HeungNim, which is a man’s older brother. Below him is his son, ChangHyeon. To his left is his wife, known only as sister. Their daughter, MinGyeong, is on her right. She is in high school and gets good grades in English. She has taken an English nickname of Haley. Next is my honey, MyeongHee and her son, who she only calls Adul, which is simply son. His name is DongHyeon. Only children have names. Everyone else has a title they are known by. MyeongHee’s niece and nephew call her GoMo, which is a father’s sister.  A GoMo’s husband, and what they call me, is GoMoBu. I prefer to be called Martin, but they can’t seem to bring themselves to break tradition and do that.

A son-in-law is called a “Sawi” although that’s only a 3rd person name. When addressing a sawi, one uses their first name, first syllable with “SaBang” after it. I would therefore be called “MaSaBang” by my JangMoNim, but after multiple corrections that she call me simply Martin she finally broke. The adults now all  simply call me Martin. It’s their one concession to my foreigner status among them.

For the birthday occasion, my JeoNam splurged and paid for an elaborate buffet lunch. There was enough food for 50 people, although it was only the 10 of us and 10 or so neighbors, mostly old-timers, from the fishing village where she lives.  The food was awesome and I gorged on beef ribs, sushi (both Korean style and Japanese style), bulgogi, chicken, rice, noodles, veggies, breads and fruits. There was so much that we ate the leftovers all weekend and the women never cooked other than to warm up some of the soup.

For the entire weekend, we ate, sat and slept on the floor. There’s not a stick of furniture except for the foldout tables they use to hold the food. My backside ached by the time we left and I was ready for chair of any sort to stretch my long legs out. I took frequent walks to take my dog out for a potty break, just to keep from sitting on the floor for so long. On one of my walks through the village, I came across this string of squid drying in the sun.

Yum, yum! Looks delicious, doesn’t it? On another occasion, I came across a boat with a net draped across it. Dozens of fish, recently filleted, were spread across the net. Some still twitched and squirmed as if they were still alive, although their heads and innards were absent. I think American health inspectors would shit a golden brick to see so much food lying about in the open air.  But that’s typical in Korea and the little fishing village my JangMoNim lives in is plum with such sights.