“I’ll just take the cough drops please,” I told the corner store pharmacist.
If I go to bed early tonight, my immune system will surely kill this cold, I thought.
Well, here we are on Easter Sunday. I still have a cold but no pride and no Sudafed.
Tomorrow, we take mid-terms, and every pharmacy is closed. I can’t even return to the corner store for the pharmacist to watch me eat crow.
So drugs being a non-option, I commenced the quest for chicken soup today.
You know how it is when you’re searching for something specific.
I could not find chicken soup at any restaurant or market it seemed.
Spam soup, yes. Shellfish bouillon, check. Chicken soup, fail.
Maybe the Chinese restaurant will have hot-n-sour soup.
Not on this side of town. Maybe not outside of America.
Being sick in a foreign country sucks.
I had almost reached the pity police, when I passed this store front two minutes from home:
Dear God, I know not your methods.
I ordered the 반계탕/ pan gye tang—one half chicken served in its stock with spring onions and two urns of fresh kimchi and baby garlic on the side.
What a comforting meal.
The soup came with a sake service and house-made ginger tea.
If you are sick in Sinchon, I will take you to 장수보감 / chang soo boh kam, which serves only chicken soup.
In the meantime, am I supposed to learn something from today?
Ask for help;
Check arrogance at the airport?