A Day Inside a Dystopian Novel

(Distant beeping noise). Where is that accursed cacophony coming from? All at once, my dreams converge with reality and I realize that the sound is the alarm on my tablet anxiously advising me that its time to stop hitting the snooze. By the time I finally silence the contraption, I remember where I am -- not the cold tundra of Wisconsin where I spent the first 22 years of my life, not my second home in Virginia where I spent the past three years completing my undergrad, but South Korea. I am in my own apartment, stretched out across a queen-sized bed (a big upgrade from the cheap twin mattress I used to sleep on), and it is Saturday. The recollection that I am meeting Josephina, my Korean, 40-something tutor student, outside my apartment at 10:00 gets me out of the bed. She is taking me to what she called an "agricultural expo". 

The first order of business (as it is every morning) is to get the coffee brewing. I always try not to wake my roommate, Brandi, but am never successful. She emerges from her room with an eye half-open. I am not a morning person myself and usually don't want to talk to anyone for at least the first 15 minutes after I wake up, but I tell her good morning anyway because I feel it is the polite thing to do. She mutters a greeting back and disappears into the bathroom. I proceed to make us bacon and eggs... one of the few perks of being on a low-carb diet is that high-protein foods and fats are encouraged since they supposedly help curb carb cravings. 

When breakfast is finished I only have just enough time to put on make-up and change, so I opt to set  Youversion to audio and it reads Revelation 8 to me as I attempt to transform myself from 'groggy bed-monster' to 'presentable'. Woes, fantastic angels and warfare make for a very unconventional morning experience, to be sure. 

At 9:57 am Brandi (whom I have invited to the expo) and I make our way down the four flights of stairs and out the door of our apartment building. Josephina is nowhere in sight, so we stand at the edge of the playground that is situated in the parking lot and talk about how nice the weather is and how Josephina is probably just running late and how its probably due to a cultural difference in perception of time. 

After a while, Josephina appears in a blue pick-up truck (probably used for transporting things around her farm) and honks at us with a smile. We wave and squish ourselves beside her onto the tan, leather, bench seat. There is just enough room for the three of us, and the truck smells faintly of cow manure. I don't mind; it reminds me of my early childhood. It has been quite a while since I rode in the front seat of an old pick-up, and I had forgotten how fun it is and how much it feels like you are on some sort of safari trek. Maybe it is the coffee kicking in, but I feel suddenly giddy inside and want to roll the window down all the way and scream into the bleak morning air, but I do not want to frighten Josephina, whom I am still getting to know, so I contain myself and instead, casually comment on how much I am looking forward to the day. Brandi and Josephina nod and I suspect they are too.

Riding in a car has become sort of a luxury for me. Back in the States, I owned my own vehicle, but here I rely on walking and public transportation. I sort of like it, actually. Life is simpler without having a car to maintain and fill with expensive gasoline. It is also easier to enjoy ones surroundings when one doesn't have to focus on concrete and yellow lines all the time. Having a personal shofar for the day, however, one gets the best of both worlds; efficiency AND free transportation, not to mention excellent company :). As I look out the window, I see unexplored areas of the city. Brandi and I both feel that the texture of farmland mixed with high-rise apartment buildings, run-down store fronts, and industrial bridges gives the landscape a dystopian feel. By that, I mean, the setting resembles what I have read about in many recent dystopian novels -- think Divergent and Hunger Games. Anyhow, its quite beautiful. I like feeling like I'm living in a dystopian novel. 

We eventually turn into an enormous gravel parking lot where attendants wave us into a space with their orange light-saber-thingys. We can see over a hundred tents all set up side-by-side, county fair style -- all that's missing is a Ferris wheel. Brandi and I look at each other and grin. When Josephina invited me to the "agricultural expo", I was thinking, small farmer's market. But this is good too! Maybe there will even be delicious fried goodness to eat and cute animals to pet! 

When we officially step foot on the expo grounds, I am instantly amazed at the things I see: gorgeous vegetation everywhere. There are flowers and gourds and gardens in every shape and size imaginable. There's smiling families and music and, yes, even delicious smells of fried food wafting into my nostrils from somewhere. Brandi and I are grinning from ear-to-ear as we follow Josephina into a greenhouse that says "botanical garden" above the archway.

Inside I feel like I am walking through a jungle. It's delightfully humid and it smells amazing and my eyes are feasting on colors and strange-looking plants. There are trees with leaves the size of small airplane wings hovering above us that reach up toward the dome ceiling. There are even little garden gnomes peeking out at me from behind shrubs. This calls for some photos. 

Brandi, Josephina and I spend the next hours wandering through displays of tea, fruits, insects, animals, farm machinery, and artwork. They even have hedgehogs! We stop at a small stand where a woman is pouring batter onto a giant, square skillet. Josephina insists on buying Brandi and I the insanely-delicious-smelling treat resembling a thick pancake that has some sort of sweet cinnamon mixture inside. We eat it happily as we continue to make our way across the grounds toward the stage where the music is coming from. 

We stay for the hour-long music program which consists of young Koreans, dressed in traditional clothing. There is drumming, singing, dancing and playing of exotic instruments. All of the acts are rather impressive. When the program ends, we find a tent that offers lunch. Josephina again insists on paying. "It is Korean style", she says, as we are served large bowls of brothy, rice-cake soup. I know from some research I did about the culture that she is referring to the Korean custom of the oldest person in a group paying for the meal. Still, I still feel my American upbringing kicking in and telling me to at least offer to pay, although my offer is rejected. Between sips, we chat about the contrasts between Korean and American life until we are too full to eat another bite. Together, we exit the tent and head back towards the parking lot to Josephina's little, blue pick-up truck.

What was originally supposed to only be a few-hour excursion, turned out to be a whole day. I watch the sun sinking lower into the mountains as we travel home. Surveying the landscape, my thoughts turn again to dystopian novels, and I am grateful. I am not living in a dystopian novel... but I am not living in a utopian one either (that is for the "next life"). I think the genre is called adventure. It is a story in which I decide to follow my Father across the sea, and in turn, He takes me on a journey that blesses me beyond what I could ever imagine. The more I strive to serve Him, the more He gives to me. It's almost like a giving war... one I know I will never win.