What's more, when you're speaking with international students, even bilinguals and trilinguals, they essentially have two sides to them. One side is their native mind where they could express their thoughts exactly how they want, whilst their other side, their second language, is another story, where they aren't able to express as freely as their first language. Even if they are perfectly fluent in all the languages they know, it still affects how they think and express their thoughts. So if you speak with someone in their second language, you still wouldn't be able to know the other side to them: their native side. Their lifestyle, their personality, and the way they interact and express their ideas may be startlingly different, and unless you become fluent in their language, you are totally clueless about that side. Thus it brings us to see that your best international friend may still, and forever be, a stranger to you.
Melon shook her orange juice, twisted it open and took a huge swig. Melon was her real name, and surely it was an unusual name. Her parents thought it was a good name for her after they noticed her soft, plump cheeks when she was a child. A native Korean, she had smooth, jet black hair with a few brown dye marks and flawless skin. Pearl earrings were attached by her earlobes and her woody fragrance rushed towards me whenever she brushed her hair and made theatrical hand gestures whenever she talked.
We had first met here, at the campus center, after she saw me munching through a sandwich while casually thumbing through a Truman Capote paperback. Her first words to me was what book I was reading and once I told her the author she became fascinated and in sheer reflex plopped down on the seat across from me to discuss it. She had read the book countless times, and she told me her life story, her fascination with books since childhood, how she read newspapers when she was still wearing a diaper soiled with piss, and how her parents named her Melon. Of course because of her name she was bullied a lot during her secondary education years in Korea, where she almost even got part of her ear chopped off by a classmate and some elder bullies (because in Korea age played a huge role.) Everyday she'd get something stolen from a pencil to her electronic dictionary and would come home crying to her parents begging them to change her name. But they couldn't do it, and she eventually had to transfer schools. Life was better after Melon had transferred, and she more and more became interested in traveling to the U.S. around the time she was a senior in high school. She wanted to see what it was like to travel and study somewhere else. She aimed for a fresh start, a place devoid of bullies in her circle. And of course she upheld her pride and erased all of her terrible memories.
She prevailed, and became an exchange student. The communications major would meet up with me on occasions to have some coffee and chat until the evening. She was fluent in English, without a trace of an accent. Melon always grinned and giggled and never seemed to see life from a negative viewpoint.
She reached in her burgundy Longchamp, pulled out a bag of candy, and threw it on the table in front of me. Before me eyes were a bag of Sour Patches.
"Happy Halloween," she giggled.
"Well, hey, thanks!" I opened the bag. "Trick or treat."
"I thought about it hard, but bought it anyway on my way back from the market," she said. "For Halloween's sake, I felt like I needed to show some spirit."
"Good idea. Since none of us are in costume, unfortunately."
She nodded. "Going to any parties?"
"Can't say I am," I said. "But who knows, someone always invites me something last minute. Are you up to anything?"
"My friends and I are going to eat at a pretty nice seafood place. After that I think we're just going to hang out at the mall."
She clasped her hands together. Her teal fingernails glimmered from the light. While staring at them, for the strangest reason, I thought about where she was going after she graduated; when she would return home, and get jumbled in with the crowd miles away in a whole different society with distinct customs and personalities. A world that seemed so separate. Where will Melon be? Will she ever return? Those fingernails with teal, amidst a crowd of people, unnoticeable, almost becoming vanished. To me, she always belonged here, on campus, and it seemed artificial imagining her casually walking in the streets of Busan, her hometown, and casually talking with her friends in her native tongue.
"Sean?"
"Yeah, sorry. Totally caught off guard there for a sec."
"Aw poor little baby," she laughed. "Does somebody need some milk to wake up?"
"Call it quits. I'm a grown man."
"Are you really now?"
"Plus these sour patches fuel me up well enough."
"All that sugar."
Melon drank the rest of her orange juice, tied her hair into a ponytail, and got up from her seat. Swiftly, she slung her Longchamp on her shoulder and glanced at her watch.
"I have class soon, mister," she said.
"I'll escort you there."
Whereupon we headed outside. The campus was full of students making their way in and out of classes. It was the transition time, where most classes ended and students shuffled their way to their next one. I dug my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, taking in the occasional chilly breeze.
We strolled through the path of fallen, dried up leaves and up the stairs to the main halls. This was the point I set her free.
"Thanks for the escort," she said. "I feel special."
"I'm glad. Bodyguard, security guard, lifeguard, you name it. I'll be there."
She blushed. "Well I'll see you."
She turned away and just when she was about to head inside, I hollered her name.
"Yes?"
I thought about my words. "This may be out of the blue, and it just keeps floating in my mind so I need to get it out."
"What is it, Sean?"
"Are you planning to go back to Korea once you graduate?"
"Most likely, yeah. But who knows? If I land I job here then I'm here. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. It's just flew in. I don't really have an exact explanation, really."
She looked into my eyes for a couple of seconds, then looked at the ground as if seeing her reflection on a pond.
"Let's not look to far ahead," she smiled.
She prevailed, and became an exchange student. The communications major would meet up with me on occasions to have some coffee and chat until the evening. She was fluent in English, without a trace of an accent. Melon always grinned and giggled and never seemed to see life from a negative viewpoint.
She reached in her burgundy Longchamp, pulled out a bag of candy, and threw it on the table in front of me. Before me eyes were a bag of Sour Patches.
"Happy Halloween," she giggled.
"Well, hey, thanks!" I opened the bag. "Trick or treat."
"I thought about it hard, but bought it anyway on my way back from the market," she said. "For Halloween's sake, I felt like I needed to show some spirit."
"Good idea. Since none of us are in costume, unfortunately."
She nodded. "Going to any parties?"
"Can't say I am," I said. "But who knows, someone always invites me something last minute. Are you up to anything?"
"My friends and I are going to eat at a pretty nice seafood place. After that I think we're just going to hang out at the mall."
She clasped her hands together. Her teal fingernails glimmered from the light. While staring at them, for the strangest reason, I thought about where she was going after she graduated; when she would return home, and get jumbled in with the crowd miles away in a whole different society with distinct customs and personalities. A world that seemed so separate. Where will Melon be? Will she ever return? Those fingernails with teal, amidst a crowd of people, unnoticeable, almost becoming vanished. To me, she always belonged here, on campus, and it seemed artificial imagining her casually walking in the streets of Busan, her hometown, and casually talking with her friends in her native tongue.
"Sean?"
"Yeah, sorry. Totally caught off guard there for a sec."
"Aw poor little baby," she laughed. "Does somebody need some milk to wake up?"
"Call it quits. I'm a grown man."
"Are you really now?"
"Plus these sour patches fuel me up well enough."
"All that sugar."
Melon drank the rest of her orange juice, tied her hair into a ponytail, and got up from her seat. Swiftly, she slung her Longchamp on her shoulder and glanced at her watch.
"I have class soon, mister," she said.
"I'll escort you there."
Whereupon we headed outside. The campus was full of students making their way in and out of classes. It was the transition time, where most classes ended and students shuffled their way to their next one. I dug my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, taking in the occasional chilly breeze.
We strolled through the path of fallen, dried up leaves and up the stairs to the main halls. This was the point I set her free.
"Thanks for the escort," she said. "I feel special."
"I'm glad. Bodyguard, security guard, lifeguard, you name it. I'll be there."
She blushed. "Well I'll see you."
She turned away and just when she was about to head inside, I hollered her name.
"Yes?"
I thought about my words. "This may be out of the blue, and it just keeps floating in my mind so I need to get it out."
"What is it, Sean?"
"Are you planning to go back to Korea once you graduate?"
"Most likely, yeah. But who knows? If I land I job here then I'm here. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. It's just flew in. I don't really have an exact explanation, really."
She looked into my eyes for a couple of seconds, then looked at the ground as if seeing her reflection on a pond.
"Let's not look to far ahead," she smiled.
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