My Korean Christmas Prince Ch. 02

Chapter 2: YEONG-SOO

"He can stay with me," I hear a voice behind me say out of nowhere, and when I turn to look at the man in front of me, he looks about as surprised by his offer as I am. He looks like a typical Midwestern farmer type, about my age I'd guess, mid-30's or so, and he's wearing a warm-looking brown jacket and jeans and a baseball cap.

I know beggars can't be choosers, but I can't help scrutinizing him carefully before I respond to his offer to help. As a celebrity, over the years I'd like to think I've become a pretty good judge of character. It seems like nine out of ten people who are friendly to me are just trying to use me for something or another, whether it be to promote something for them, or give them money, or even just to be able to brag that they're friends with me. I guess it's no surprise that I can count on one hand the number of people I'd actually call a friend. I have to remind myself that no one out here knows I'm a celebrity, but it doesn't take a genius to look at me and figure out that I probably have a good amount of money. But as I look into his warm brown eyes, which meet mine straightforwardly and steadily, all I see are openness and honesty and good intentions. Which is much more than I've encountered around here so far.

So, with more than a little relief, I do accept. His name is Caleb, and he's at the store to pick up some fuel for some lights for his farm. I wait patiently for him to finish his business, and he walks me out to where his truck is where his assistant, named Aaron, is waiting. Aaron isn't shy about expressing his surprise at seeing me and hearing that I'm going to be staying with Caleb. He's in his early 20's or so, and more of what I'd think of as an American guy than Caleb. Aaron's a corn-fed farmer type, blonde, clean-shaven, really tall with a stocky muscular build, like an American football player. Caleb is a little shorter than I am, and not stocky (but not thin either), although it's a little hard to tell under his heavy winter jacket. Caleb explains that there's also a ram in the back of the truck that they're bringing in to breed his sheep. Of course there is. I find myself getting interested despite myself. I have a natural curiosity about things, even beyond research for my acting, but I refrain from asking them questions since I don't want to appear to be nosy, and that would be considered extremely rude in Korea.

It's a little tricky getting the three of us settled into the truck. I offer to sit in the bed of the truck with the ram, but they insist that it's too dirty and uncomfortable and cold and that we're not that far away from the farm, so we all crowd into the front seat somehow. It really only has two actual seats, but there's a sort of flat space to sit on in the middle. Because Caleb has to drive and Aaron, at something like 185 cm, is clearly too tall and too stocky to take the middle spot, I end up perched in between them. I make myself as small as possible and my knees are banging up against the dashboard, but we're all kind of rubbing elbows and knees, which makes me extremely uncomfortable. Caleb cranks up the heat and tries to make as much room for me as possible, and he politely pretends he doesn't notice that my left arm and leg are touching his in an overly familiar way and occasionally jabbing into his arm or chest accidentally, particularly when the concrete roads run out and the truck bumps its way along the dirt and gravel roads.

Aaron, in contrast, seems completely oblivious to our mutual lack of personal space, and he peppers me with questions the whole time. Clearly he has no qualms about asking personal questions to a stranger, and out of politeness to him I answer his questions as helpfully and honestly as I can (when in Rome...). Where I'm from is easy enough to answer (Seoul, South Korea), but I gloss over his question about what I'm doing there ("travelling for business"). He takes that response at face value and says that that must also explain why my English is so good (more or less true), and asks me if I travel a lot for work (I do), have I been to America before (yes, many times, but only big cities before now), and where else I've been (all through Asia, much of Europe, even parts of Africa), and then spends a few minutes spouting on about how he wishes he could travel too and soliloquizes about how he wants to see Italy and Spain and South America and the Alps and... I start to lose track, and glancing over at Caleb I can see he's tuned out and is focused on the road. I start paying attention again when Aaron asks me why I have to work over the holidays and why I'm not spending it with my family or friends, and I explain to him that Christmas isn't a big holiday in Asia. It's more like just a big date night for couples, and I'm going to be meeting up with my girlfriend (who I also work with) in Silver Falls.

I find Americans to be a little brash and loud in general, but Aaron's chattiness and enthusiasm is friendly and much preferable to the store worker's not so thinly veiled hostility. And I guess I don't mind that Caleb, who, of course, is overhearing all of this conversation, is finding out about all of these things as well. It saves him and me both the trouble of having to go through the questions on our own or avoid them altogether, both of which would be a bit more awkward. I've stayed with Yu-jin at quaint little B&Bs in foreign countries before, and these kinds of introductions are always awkward. I don't really see the point in making small talk with strangers who you're never going to see again, but people seem to expect it. And anyway, I can already tell Caleb's not the super friendly and chatty type.

As they'd said, it doesn't take long to get to Caleb's farm, maybe ten or fifteen minutes. We tumble out of the cramped truck and I feel a little like a clown exiting a packed clown car, and the thought makes me smile a little to myself. A brown dog comes out from the barn to greet us, and follows Aaron and Caleb as they take the ram to the barn while I stand around awkwardly watching them work. I like animals, though, and I find what they're doing interesting. It doesn't take them long, and when they're done Aaron heads home in his own truck, and Caleb ushers me inside his house with his dog trotting along his side. I find myself wishing as I often have that I could have a pet, and I note how well-behaved his dog is, and that it doesn't bark at me or try to jump on me when it sees me.

Caleb reaches down to pet and smile at her and introduces her as Rosie. Her coat is a glossy brown and up close I see hat she has black on her ears and face, and when I guess that she's a German Shepherd he explains that she's a mutt, but mostly Belgian Shepherd, closely related to German Shepherds but good on a farm. I ask him if I can pet her, and he says, "Sure", and tells me she's very friendly. He asks if I have a pet, and I explain to him that I wish I could, but that I have to travel so much for work it's not really possible.

The whole shoe situation is always a little awkward when you go to someone's house in a foreign country, but I follow Caleb's lead when we enter his house. He kicks off his boots just inside the front door, and so I slip off my shoes as well. I'm not sure if he's being "culturally sensitive" and just doing that for my benefit (although probably not since I imagine work boots could get pretty dirty), but I appreciate it either way. He gives me a quick tour, and the house seems surprisingly normal. I don't know quite what I expected from a Midwestern farm house, but even though it's on a farm on the inside it seems pretty much like a house you'd see anywhere else. It's one story with a porch and a porch swing out front, and it's warm and cozy inside and well lit. The outside of the house had looked a little rustic, but inside all the furniture looks completely modern, with a kitchen and bathroom that look like they've been remodelled recently. The decorating is surprisingly minimal, and everything has simple but clean designs, not trendy at all, and not at all like the "big is better", loud "country and western" kind of American style I'd sort of expected. Maybe I'm being prejudiced myself, but it's odd. Somehow the inside of the house seems more like it should belong somewhere in a city apartment rather than on a farm in a rural place like this.

There are three bedrooms, and Caleb points out which one is his (through the open door I can see a petite gray cat curled up on his bed who he identifies as Sonia), and then he shows me the one he uses as a guest room. He tells me the other one is his parents' old room, and that they're "not around anymore". I murmur a soft, "I'm sorry to hear that", and he just shrugs, and I'm too polite to ask how long ago that was or to try to see what kind of expression is in his eyes.

Anyway, it's nice to get out of the cold, and honestly I've been cold pretty much the whole time I got the flat tire because I've been really underdressed. I'd just brought a thin trench coat since I'd expected to be driven around everywhere, and I hadn't expected I'd actually be spending much time outdoors other than during shooting. (During filming they always give us these big warm puffy poncho-like things to wear over our costumes so that they won't get wrinkled or whatever.)

Back in the living room, Caleb briskly gets down to business.

"Were you able to call your co-workers to tell them about the delay?" he asks first.

"Actually, no. I was wondering..." I start to say, pulling out my phone and seeing that I don't even have a single bar showing. "The mobile phone service here--"

"It's terrible," he confirms with a long-suffering sigh. "Our county has so few people we're really low on the list of any company's priorities. Our cell phone reception is terrible and our Internet connection is slow, and it's down more times than not. When I first moved here I even looked into getting a special Internet line hooked up, but they just won't do it. America's really behind Asian countries when it comes to Internet speed." Caleb looks at his own phone. "The network's been down for days, and it looks like it's still offline. The Internet at the library in town works pretty well, but they're closed until after New Year's."

He looks at me apologetically as he explains the situation. "The one place that gets decent cell phone reception is the highest point in town. It's... actually, it's the town cemetery."

"Ah, I see," I say, for lack of any better response. I could see under different circumstances I'd be somewhat amused at the whole fish out of water scenario complete with a trip to the town cemetery, but I'm anxious about the delay and how it will affect the filming schedule, and also not being able to meet up with Yu-jin...

"We'd have to go out again to pick up your stuff from your car anyway," Caleb explains, "so we can do that now and swing by the cemetery on the way back. Or if you're hungry, we could go after we eat. It's up to you."

"Now would be better, if you don't mind," I say immediately, knowing that the sooner I can tell the production staff about the delay, the sooner they can figure out how to work around it.

"No problem."

Caleb leads the way back to the front door, but he hesitates before turning back to me.

"Um," he says, a little uncomfortably. "Your jacket doesn't look warm enough. I think you should take one of mine." Before I can protest he's opened a closet by the front door and grabbed a coat that looks pretty much the same as his but is a darker shade of brown. He takes it and a plain gray scarf and shoves them into my hands. "Here. The jacket should fit you, more or less."

"Thank you," I say, surprised and touched at this additional thoughtfulness. I take off my trench coat, and he motions for me to hand it to him so he can hang it up in the closet, and I put on the scarf and jacket. The scarf is soft and seems expensive and out of place on a farm, but I don't dwell on it, thinking that I should really stop stereotyping rural life. The jacket is heavy and warm, as thick and heavy as a winter blanket. I'm immediately much warmer than before, and I'm surprised to see him smiling and shaking his head at me.

"What?" I ask, confused by his reaction and also thrown by the way his smile brightens up his whole face and makes him look much younger than I'd originally thought.

"Oh, nothing," he says quickly. Then when he sees me waiting for an explanation, he hesitates and then adds flippantly, "Just never thought farm clothes like this could look good on anyone. But you look like a model."

I'm mildly alarmed at how close he's hit on the truth, and so without thinking I try to deflect his attention by jokingly replying, "Well, I think this coat looks better on you."

We're smiling at each other in a friendly way and looking at each other, but then we both sort of realize at the same time that this exchange sounded a little, well, that it could be taken a certain way, so we both sort of cough and break eye contact, also at the same time. Caleb turns quickly back to the closet and rummages around inside and, like a magician, pulls out a few winter hats.

"You should take one of these too," he says with a more business-like air.

I'm tempted to take the baseball cap just because I hardly ever wear one, but I just can't bring myself to do it -- plus, my stylist would have a fit if any paparazzi caught that on camera! So instead I opt for a dark green knitted hat that looks like the warmest of the bunch. Caleb takes back the ones I rejected and then from the closet, again seemingly by magic, produces a pair of surprisingly nice leather gloves. They're supple and finely made and clearly not for farm labor, and the quality of them seems as out of place as the scarf and the furnishings inside the house. I notice Caleb is shaking his head and trying to hide his grin again, presumably at the sight of this random foreigner in his house wearing his clothes, and I can't help but smile as well and turn to get a better look at myself in the hall mirror.

"Let's go," he says after we've got our shoes back on (he's exchanged his boots for a pair of worn sneakers), and we head outside. "Stay, Rosie," he says, pointing, and the dog trots off back to the barn, I guess to keep watch over the sheep, although I don't even know if that's really a thing.

On our way to the truck Caleb stops by a bush near the front of the house. "One sec," he says, as he produces a knife from his pocket and cuts off some branches with bright red berries on them. I can't recall the name of the plant, but I've seen that kind of thing on Christmas decorations. When I look at him he sees the question in my eyes and identifies it as holly somewhat gruffly and without offering any further explanation.

Caleb throws the branches into the back of the truck and we climb into the front, and it's much more comfortable now that I'm properly bundled up and have a seat all to myself. I settle back into the seat and watch Caleb out of the corner of my eye as I breathe in the smell from his clothes. They smell home-y. Sort of clean and pine-y and cozy.

"Do you want some music on?" Caleb asks as we leave the farm and he turns back onto the road.

"Either way is fine with me," I say.

Nodding, he fiddles with the truck's stereo with one hand and soon soft classical music is coming out of the speakers. Somehow I suspect that he thinks this is what I might like. I'm not sure if it's because of the Asian stereotype or because I look rich, or maybe a bit of both, but he's really taking this host thing seriously. What a nice guy!

"This all right?" he asks, glancing over at me.

"Sure, I like classical music," I say.

"I do too," he says, leaning back into his seat himself. "I like listening to music in general." He starts to hum along a bit to himself as we drive, surprising me yet again, but then stops when he realizes what he's doing. Listening more closely to the audio playing I immediately recognize it as Bach, one of my favorite composers. It's one of the cello suites.

"You like Bach?" I ask him.

"Yeah. He's one of my favorite composers," he says briefly and nonchalantly.

"Oh. I like his music too," I can't help saying in response. I listen to some more of it and identify the specific piece as the third suite, but I resist the urge to identify it out loud since it would seem like I was showing off. Somehow I get the impression that Caleb already knows which one it is anyway.

We continue on in a natural silence, and I'm glad to have a break after Aaron's interrogation. But I can't help finding myself getting more and more intrigued by my host. I didn't think farmers were that rich, so why does Caleb have such nice stuff? And I thought American people didn't listen to classical music much. And why does this farmer in the country seem so educated and cosmopolitan? My mind is full of questions, but I keep silent. I thought you weren't interested in making small talk? I remind myself. You're never going to see him again, so what does it matter what his story is? But somehow I am interested. I'm already trespassing on his hospitality and I don't want to be a bothersome guest, so I'll just keep quiet. I can satisfy my curiosity just by watching and observing. I guess I'm bound to learn a little more about him before I leave tomorrow, right?