the waves crash against the jagged edges of the cliff — a small cry before they return to the fabric of their existence. it’s funny how you never get tired of this sight. that no matter where you visit, the lull of the waves speaks home into existence. brings you back to this coast line in particular. reminding you of the awe that swelled up in your five year old frame.
and now that you are here it feels a little bit like home but also a bit too foreign.
what used to be looming structures feel a lot smaller. the old houses symbolic of jeju-do have been replaced with more modernized looks. large windows taking over most of the wall to soak in more of the scenery.
it doesn’t feel right. it’s not what you’ve been looking for.
you lower your camera. too lazy to flip through the photographs you’ve just taken. you know you’ve taken dozens from the same angle and none of them will capture the way the water sparkles.
you look at the other members of this tour group trudging ahead, the looks on their faces matching the way you felt all those years ago.
this may be wrong. might have been a waste of your day to sign up for this guided tour that only touches popular tour locations but its a start.
so you let your camera hang around your neck like an accessory for the rest of the day as you fall in line with the rest of the wide eyed folk.
it doesn’t stop you from approaching that man you saw on the way into the bed and breakfast after ditching the tour early. ( the one with the broad shoulders, handsome smile, and a way with animals. )
“hey,” hating how you sound. sheepish, shy. you’re not like this at all so you lean against the counter for support. “the guided tour was a little lacking…” you start, hoping it doesn’t offend, “i was wondering if you knew anyone who was willing to do one-one-one tours.” ugh, how is this easier in english or charades. you blame the years abroad.
“kind of like a day in the life of a local,” you chuckle.
the sun is still blazing across the sky when you rouse from your nap, a comforting warmth blanketing over your body as you lie on the hammock. you’d be content to stay in slumber if not for the tender weight on your chest, reminding you that lungs need a healthy intake of oxygen.
“yuja-yah, why do you always sleep on me?” you chide, no real bite to your bark, fingers stroking along orange fur, gently soothing the cat awake.
once you’ve convinced her to let you free, you settle for some respite in the kitchen, fixing an afternoon snack out of boredom rather than a rising appetite. there's hardly any guests around at this time of the day, so you allow yourself to enjoy the slow passage of time, fiddling with the ingredients until the presentation looks just right.
cue the footsteps and foreign voice. attention shifts when you realise you're no longer alone.
“hey! you’re back early.”
but the suave man leaning against the counter doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm, so you lend an ear for his troubled concerns instead.
“ah, i’m sorry to hear that.” you try not to look so dejected. futures can't be so easily predicted and neither can the feelings of a man you've only met yesterday. but you can't help but feel the fault that falls on you for being responsible for his enrolment into a tour he didn't enjoy. what if this ruins his experience and henceforth, opinion of your hometown? AHHHHH— “um. one moment, please?”
inhale. a breath to settle the mind. exhale. a breathe to soothe the nerves. you find your bowl of yoghurt smiling at you, reminding you to do the same.
“have you eaten anything?” you ask instead. you hope he'd already found time for lunch but the unlikely event that he hasn't is concerning. “you know what, i’ll make you one too. just a minute!”
and you move as quick as you promised. hands flying over ingredients you've fortunately yet to put away. the ease of making something you've done thousands and thousands of times restores your confidence. the quickest way to a man's heart is his stomach — you'll convince him to see how great jeju is eventually, but first! you have to trap him with food.
“here you go.” you present him a small bowl of the same dish you've made for yourself, except for the minor details that mirrors his face rather than your own (like the constellation of moles on his cheek). “a ‘hogurt’. on the house.” you grin. maybe he's the type to like lame puns. “it’s my specialty. it’ll taste good i promise.”
you motion him to follow your steps and out into the patio. best to enjoy something refreshing out in the open when the weather's this nice no?
you allow him some time to take in the scenery first. it's only polite after all. and moments after, you start filling in the silence. “anyways, about your question, we do offer one-on-one tours! i can book you in if you’d like.” and by that, you mean your off-day tomorrow. a small price to pay because you're determined to convert him into singing tunes about the beauty of jeju.
unless that wasn't the issue in the first place. hm.
“but why did you feel like the guided tour was lacking? if you don’t mind me asking.” blink, blink. maybe you need to gauge him differently. “i thought they went to the popular spots with nice views? was that not what you were after?”
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