The laughter of children

I have slipped into a fairly regular routine now, and life here is beginning to feel almost normal. Nothing of note has happened in the past few days, but it seems that each day there are little incidents that make me smile and remember that I'm in a different place.

Yesterday was a bright, sunny day and in spite of the heat we decided to head downtown. Caroline had on a new sundress, and as we were leaving she was wondering aloud whether she should be wearing sunscreen. The answer came sooner than expected. We walked out of the gate and the very instant we stepped out onto the street a passing man on a scooter slowed down and yelled to Caroline in Korean, pointing alternately between her shoulders and the sun. Obviously, he felt that she should be wearing sunscreen!

On Friday night on the way home from work we stopped for a while in a small park that we pass through each day on the way to and from work. In the daytime a large fountain sprays out of the ground, which generally attracts a lot of children (and Caroline). In the evenings, the fountain is turned off, but the park serves as a gathering point for many families from the neighborhood. Old men and women sit and gossip on the benches around the central square while young families push babies in strollers and groups of children eat popsicles and play made-up games. We sat down on a low pillar and watched a young brother and sister having the time of their life playing together. First they took turns racing around the square while the other shouted out each passing second in staccato rhythm. Next they hopped on one foot from one end of the square to the other. They then rounded out their training session with a series of crunches, with the slightly older brother helping keep his younger sister's feet down by placing his feet on top of hers. It was amazing to see such pure joy coming from children engaged in such innocent, simple fun.

As we were watching the Olympians-in-training, we noticed a larger group of children playing off to the side. And then they employed a tactic that we have encountered many times here. Like a shark circles its prey, they started circling us. They kept their distance at first, all the while casting furtive glances in our direction. Then their circle became smaller and smaller until the children were right in front of us. Suddenly, true to the pattern, all of the children pushed one single child forward- the spokesperson for the group, or maybe the bravest. "Hello!" he shouted exuberantly, inciting waves of wild laughter in his amused co-conspirators. "Hello," we replied, causing even more giggling among the group. "What is your name?" Caroline asked the oldest girl. And before they knew it, we were having a conversation. They spoke English with varying degrees of proficiency, with the oldest girl serving as translator. We asked them their names, their ages, and their favorite color, and they, in turn, played with Caroline's hair (which intrigued them) and touched my whiskered face (which also intrigued them). We played with them for about ten minutes, then continued home, made happy by the vibrancy of children.