I had a moment on the subway

Actually, I had two moments on the subway today. I was taking the subway to have a baking day with my friend Renae today. She lives about an hour away from me, so I settled in with my nook and my iPod to do some reading.

I have spent the last three weeks or so reading a 650 page biography of Dietrich Boenhoffer. It has been an excellent book, and I've really enjoyed it! I was nearing the end of the book, and was quite engrossed in the story when someone reached over and touched my arm and said "did you buy that in Korea or in your country?"

It took me a minute to realize that someone was talking to me, and to process that they were speaking English and understand what their question was. I pulled out my headphones and we talked about the nook for a few minutes. It turns out that this family (it was both parents and a little girl) had been living in America for the past 14 years. They had only been back in Korea for two days. Their little girl really missed having English books, and they wondered if an e-book reader might be a good way for her to go. So, we talked about different e-book options for English books, and I told them about the wonderful English bookstore in the foreigner district, and then they got off of the subway and I went back to my book.

I was listening to Mozart's "Requiem" in my iPod. This shouldn't really surprise anyone. That is one of my very favorite pieces of music. It is important to note that a Requiem is a set of prayers for the dead. I was reading the last 25 pages of my book. It is walking through Dietrich's last meal, his last letter, last trip, his execution less than two weeks before the Allies liberated the death camps... There were excerpts from his memorial service in England, stories of how his family found out what had happened to him...

I was sitting on the subway, in a fairly crowded car... And all of a sudden, I started crying. There was something about the combination of the music and the story that just pushed me over the edge. I normally hate crying. I hate crying in public even more. I wasn't particularly happy to be crying this time, but in a strange way, I was also a little bit glad.

I haven't written much about the subway on here. This is intentional. I hate the subway. It is always crowded. It gets really hot. Sometimes there are so many people that cram into a car that you literally can't move at all. Remember those old Looney Tunes cartoons where the subway trains are actually sardine tins? Yeah... I'm convinced that the artists visited Seoul for their inspiration. The subway is always loud, and it is always confining and dark. I hate the subway. I hate riding the subway.

But... For a little bit, in the middle of all of that, there was a moment. A moment where the subway faded from my mind, the noise and smells didn't bother me, I forgot about the old lady who was steadily staring at me, and I was able to enjoy my book and my music. It was a nice break from the seemingly constant assault on my senses that living in Seoul has provided -- even if it did require some tears.