FOREIGN ATTRACTION

"Hey Gelo, could you pass me the pot?" my aunt requested, her voice calm and subtle, yet carrying a noticeable drop in energy after a day of tireless work. "Here, tita [aunt] Julia, be careful," I obediently handed her the boiling soup as she poured the recipe into the dish. “Gelo, could you please pass this to table 2, the one across the counter?” Uncle Niel handed me a serving tray with soju and kimchi. I immediately took it and handed it over to the group of men at that table. They gently accepted the tray and helped me put it down the table. “Thank you,” they said in sync. Their accent hinted at foreign origins, likely Koreans. This was no surprise considering our resto bar specializes in Korean cuisine, catering to the growing demand for the typical samgyupsal, ramens, and rice cake servings in the Philippines. I moved to a table beside them to clean, inadvertently overhearing their conversation. “Tteokbokki masisseoyo [Their rice cake is really good],” said the guy with glasses. “Daebubun-ui eumsig-i jinjja mas-i naneun geos gat-ayo [I think all of their food tastes authentic],” another responded, their backs turned, making it difficult to identify who’s who. As I left to attend to other duties, another guy spoke. “Heum, geuleonde ramyeon-i neomu ig-eoss-eoyo. Naneun geugeos-eul joh-ahaji anhneunda. [The ramen looks overcooked, I don't like it],” he said, followed by a lowkey and sarcastic laugh. I turned my face to see who spoke, but he’s not facing me so I can’t see. I clenched my fist for insulting our food, if he only knew I understood their language. Basically, my Father is Korean so I have a resemblance. I’ve grown up living in Seoul and I’ve spent my childhood there. My Filipino mom fell in love with my Father while working abroad as a House Helper and cook. When I turned five, my mom and I decided to visit here in the Philippines, which I found difficult at that time to adapt. I remember crying to my Dad to stop me and my mom from going here. Life here seemed fine until a financial crisis and business conflicts with my dad's company in Korea disrupted our family. My mom had to return urgently, leaving me with my aunt and uncle. The news of her tragic car accident came later, shattering my understanding and leaving me lost in a place I couldn't yet call home. *Flashback Leaving me here alone was hard enough, it’s like being lost in a place you’ve never been before. I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong. Three days after her flight, my aunt, the one who temporarily kept me, received a call from someone. “Hello, sino to? [who’s this]” it was a normal day, I was slowly accepting the fact that I was left alone by playing with my toys. I didn't really care about it not until my aunt started shaking and tears drifted down her eyes. “W-what? What do you mean dead? Niel come here, jusko po [Oh my God!]” she shouted and Uncle Niel rushed out from the kitchen out of fear and worry. I still couldn’t understand what was happening. They hugged me after that and tried their best to explain what happened. But I was only confused. I know for certain that they're sad, but I am still not familiar with English at that time. Who would’ve thought that the temporary stay here would be this long. They fixed my papers, and did their best to take care of me. Upon growing up, I’ve slowly learned that my mom had a car accident in Korea. I was devastated when I finally understood my situation. It’s like stuck somewhere between the pain and not feeling anything at all. Sleepless nights Rebellious phases Lost It felt like I no longer had an identity. I am alone, and no home I can biologically call mine. I’m glad my aunt was there, she helped me and did all her efforts. I was able to carry on because of her and I owe it all to her. Since then, I started living with people having the same language so I eventually learned English and some Filipino. – “Hey Gelo, don’t just stand there, help me with this,” my uncle interrupted my thoughts, serving as a father figure now. My real father remained a mystery, vanishing after my mom's death. We never heard anything about him. After my mom died, no one reached out or called us saying “son, I’ll bring you home”. He vanished and I had no idea what happened. My aunt tried her best to gather all my mom’s left contacts, but to no success; we gave up. He used to be good to me during my childhood, but now, I feel like the first person I expected to fetch me from this mess, had abandoned me. This is essentially my life at the moment – putting in relentless hours at my aunt's Korean resto bar to manage my personal finances. It has become my go-to place every free moment and after school. Alongside this commitment, I'm immensely grateful for being admitted to the University of the Philippines Diliman, where I am pursuing architecture without the burden of financial constraints. Juggling work and academics, I am dedicated to sustaining my scholarship, working hard to secure my financial independence, all while embracing the responsibilities that come with being the College Campus President. "Drink! Drink! Drink!" echoed the chorus from the group of men immersed in the revelry of soju. It was evident they would soon be inebriated. “Oh, come on, is that all? What a weakling!” came the taunt from the irritating guy who had earlier disparaged our ramen, his accent still apparent. What a distasteful personality. “Tita [Aunt] Julia, I'll handle the dishes. Take a break for now,” I suggested, gently moving her aside and offering a genuine smile. “But you should head upstairs now and prepare for tomorrow, Iho [young person].” “I got it, Auntie. Trust me; I can finish those overnight.” Tomorrow marks the first day of our senior year. I'm in my fifth year, I just need to hold on a little longer until I graduate and can start earning more. It has always been my dream to pursue this program. I've long admired the buildings and houses around me, questioning their construction, color choices, and unique features. Thanks to the tuition-free education at the University of the Philippines, I can now follow my dream course. Additionally, my aunt's family faces financial struggles, and I can't continue being a burden. They have been supporting me, and it's time I contribute as well. As my aunt went upstairs to rest, customers dwindled, making the workload more manageable. The old door swung open, revealing my younger cousin, my aunt’s son, with a perpetual bad temper. He headed straight to the kitchen to annoy me, “Even drinking from our water? What a burden”. he said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed a soft drink inside the ref and bangs its door hard, things inside almost fell. I did not reply out of shame, I’m more embarrassed taking part in their family. I shouldn’t even be their responsibility. I always refrain from responding and fighting back, understanding his frustration. Gladly, he made his way up cause I heard the old creaking sound of the wooden steps of this small property. After hearing a chorus of "thank you" signaling the end of the customers' visit, I went out to check. The group of guys was leaving, parting ways. “We'll clean this up; you can go to your room now,” Uncle Niel advised me. Surprisingly, Aunt Julia was back downstairs. “Don't worry about me; I can still help. You guys should rest.” “Oh, this boy,” Aunt Julia sighed, smiling at me after I assured her I was fine. As we started cleaning the tables, I noticed a shiny ring, likely left by the earlier korean group. Consulting my aunt, my uncle suggested keeping it until they returned. “I'm sure they'll probably come back for that, so keep it for now,” he said. “Finally, AAAAA- my back hurts,” I said as I stretched and placed the last glass on the rack. The door was locked, the place was silent except for passing vehicles. Everyone's upstairs, as I had instructed them to go first. In my small bedroom next to my cousin's, I found relief. This space, originally meant as a living area, had been modified to give me some personal space. The property was small, with the ground floor dedicated to the dining area and a small kitchen. Upstairs, made of wood and rusty galvanized roofing, it could get hot during the summer. Fortunately, a second-hand air conditioner provided some relief to the resto bar below. My room contained a single-size bed, a study table, a chair, and a cabinet for my belongings. Finding it challenging to work on plates and drawings here due to the tight space, I usually completed them at school where they had a drafting table. “Should I still take a bath?” I pondered. Exhausted from work, I settled for washing my face. My body automatically slumped onto the bed. Maybe I'd prepare my school stuff tomorrow morning. Almost on the brink of falling asleep, I remembered the silver ring I found earlier. Retrieving it from my pocket, I examined it closely. Five small diamonds adorned its silver curve, and something was written on the inside. “Ar-Arti-Architecture… Architecture?” I double-checked, and indeed, it read architecture. So, one of those guys is an architect. I recalled the silver necklace I’ve always been wearing, the last memory of my mom, and pouted upon touching it. “Mom, I miss you,” I smiled to suppress my tears. “Dangsin-i tteonan ihulo saenghwal-i himdeul-eojyeoss-eoyo [Life has been tough since you’re gone].” Deciding to secure the ring on my necklace, it became its pendant. I place it on my necklace to avoid misplacing it. Before I knew it, sleep enveloped me.