Do you want to...?

     In the States, if someone asks the question it is just that: a question.  Though it usually serves as an invitation as well, the asker usually wants to know a preference.
     I have learned enough about Korean culture in my short time here to know that when my seniors at the geumdo (Korean sword fighting) club asked if Candy, a new friend, and I wanted to "go for drinking" after practice that we were obligated to do so.
     My stomach tied itself into knots and I truly didn't want to go.  I had prior plans to meet my two close friends here in Korea for a movie and then a stop by a local suljip (alcohol house).  But after misunderstanding the schedule we were told in Korean, we had already showed up a half hour late to practice, and I desperately wanted these people to like me.
     "Oh course!" my mouth said without thoroughly consulting me first.
     "Absolutely," Candy replied.
     Our senior nodded without a smile, "Good."
     With rushed apologies we hurried to the dorms to shower since we had not prepared for the surprise drinking trip.  Both Candy and I chose to dress casually, which was definitely the right choice, and we left to meet them for chimek (chicken and beer).
   It had taken so long for me to decide on which club to attend.  In trying out for the club I was initially most excited about, I would have had to miss out on the opportunity of four other clubs to maybe be accepted into the first one.  As we walked toward Sinchon this came to my mind.  I worried that I had made the wrong choice.
     It didn't help that Candy and I made it the fifteen minute walk to the front gate and waited in a tunnel lit by advertisements, but didn't recieve a response as to where we needed to meet.  Candy glanced at her phone, checking either for messages or the time.  Whichever it was, she sighed and looked back up to me.  "Do you want to just go back?  I'm okay with just relaxing at the dorms."
     I glanced across the street to Yonsei University's front gate.  There was a huge group of people waiting to cross in our direction.  "Why don't we wait to see if they are in this group at least."
     Candy agreed and I breathed a sigh of relief.  I didn't truly believe that they were waiting just across the street, though I hoped.  Though I don't like beer and don't eat chicken, I wanted to make a good impression on the club.  I wanted to be part of something at Yonsei University and couldn't explain exactly why I felt it had to be this group.
     Thankfully, before Candy could suggest just forgetting the whole ordeal once again, we got a text and a map of the chimek restaurant.
     It was dive-y.  The boards of the floor were worn by shoes scuffing across it.  The lights were dimmer in some places and flickering slightly in others.  The tables were positioned quite close together.  I wouldn't be eating the food and (I thought) I wouldn't be drinking the beer.  But I smiled anyway because I freaking love dives.  The people are friendlier, the food is usually better, and I never have to feel out of place.
     My club member made me feel just as welcome.
     US Americans have an awful habit of assuming "everyone speaks English" in foreign countries.  This is not true at all.  You can survive with English in Korea, yes, but you would have to point a lot and certainly would not get to know many of the people.  My club members did not all know English, but they were so warm and accommodating and gave their English their best go in order to include Candy and I more.
     If anyone reads this and wonders if they should join a club abroad, then my advice is to absolutely do it.  If the culture you has chosen is Korean, or like it, wait until the inevitable first trip out as a group to pay if possible.  I paid beforehand but was so lucky with my group of people.