I explained, with lots of hand gestures and very short simple sentences, the kind I revert to in this kind of situation thanks to my year in Japan, that the 1 train stops at 42nd and 50th, and that he should go to 50th and then walk two blocks south. He seemed to understand the number 50 - he held up five fingers on one hand a fist with the other to show the number - but still looked confused. "Wait," he said, and began rummaging in his bag, at last producing a subway map. He pointed to where he wanted to go. "Oh, Twenty-eighth Street!" I said. "Ah, twenty..." he murmured, looking a little ashamed of himself. I showed him where we were on the map and pointed out the route he'd be taking. He seemed relieved to learn that he'd managed to find the correct platform. "I am late for my language school. First day," he said.
He sat next to me on the bench and we waited for the train. "Are you from Japan?" I asked, to pass the time. "No, Korea," he replied. I explained that I spoke a little Japanese, but no Korean. He smiled, but I'm not sure that he understood. Then the train arrived and I wished him luck and he thanked me and shot me a huge smile as we both got on. I settled into a rare empty seat while he studied the map in another part of the car.
As the train was approaching 28th St., which was also my stop, he sat down next to me. "Excuse me, sorry," he said. "You are New Yorker." "Uh, yes," I said. "I am not Japanese, I am Korean," he said. "Right," I said. "I want thank you, and I think you don't know Korea," he said, and pulled out a small cellophane-wrapped package from his bag. "This from Korea. Cell phone," he explained, handing it to me. "Now you know Korea." I thanked him and asked him the name of it in Korean, but he didn't seem to understand the question, and then the doors opened and he walked quickly out of the car ahead of me. He turned back for one last look and said, smiling and tapping the side of his head, "Remember Korea!" and then he was off.
It was, certainly, a very thoughtful gesture to give me a gift for pointing him in the right direction, and I can understand his desire to make his country known in the United States, where everyone who is Asian is lumped together into one category. Though my assumption that he was Japanese was motivated by hope that I could use a few of the rusty words I remember to make communication between us the smallest bit easier, I was still a little embarrassed that he thought I'd made such an assumption. Still, if he was hoping to help me distinguish between Japan and Korea with his gift, it wasn't a great choice. These cell phone ornaments were hugely popular in Japan as well; nearly everyone had at least one dangling from their phone. In fact, most cell phones came with a notch dedicated solely for hanging these decorations. This one, a girl with a rather protuberant hairstyle holding a flower, would have been a perfect fit in Japan. But I never had one on my phone there, reasoning that less bulk was better, so this is the first one I've ever owned. Although I don't think I'll put it on my phone here, it will certainly help me to remember Korea.
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