oshimnikka” repeated, so I climbed the few steps to

oshimnikka” repeated, so I climbed the few steps to the narrow landing that encircled the building and bowed again.

He was over a foot shatter than me but, strongly built His head was bald save for a faint gray stubble, and his face was broad and cheerful. His gray cotton robe was neat and perfectly clean. I tried mentally to guess his age but could only put it somewhere between fifty and eighty. He bowed in return and asked, “Mi-guk imnikka?’ (“Are you an American?’) :

“Ney, mig-guk imnida,” (“Yes, I am an American,”) I replied, thinking again how odd it is, compared to English, that ney means yes and that the literal translation of mi-guk, American, means “beautiful country.”

“Kunin imnikka?’ (“Are you a soldier?’)

“Anio,” (“No,”) I said, pointing to my hair. Americans of my generation would have understood that gesture — since leaving the Army four years earlier, I had let my hair grown over my ears — but I am not sure it registered with him. He cocked his head. Did he think I was saying “crazy,” 1 wondered. But he smiled and pointed to my wedding band.

“Odi puin imnikka?’ (“Where is your wife?’)

‘Taegu.”

“Han-guk puin imnikka?’ (“Is your wife Korean?”)

“Anio. Puin mi-guk imnida. Puin kun tae-wi imnida. Rakisan.” (“No. My wife is American. She is an army captain. A paratrooper.") The last word was Japanese but it was all I could think of. This definitely seemed to surprise him and he appeared to mull on it over for several seconds. Then he smiled broadly and said, with some conviction, “Han-guk maal algeissumnida.” (“You understand Korean.”)

My Korean teacher would have been proud of that but, unless I was to order a beer or ask the way to the bathroom, I had reached the limit of my conversational, abilities.

“Han-guk maal chom moolio.” (“I know a little Korean.”), I said, emphasizing bale and gesturing with my hand.

He frowned. “Il-pun maal algeissumnikka?’ (“Do you speak Japanese?’), he asked hopefully.

“Anio,” 1 said.

He looked downcast, and I had begun to think of hew I might gracefully take my departure when he brightened up. I followed his eyes to see a young, prosperous-looking » Korean couple coming up the dirt road from the main temple. The man was dressed in a dark business suit and the lady in a modest dress and high heels. Not my idea of clothes for a stroll in the country, but typically Korean. I suddenly felt odd in my polo shirt, cotton slacks, and sneakers.

“Yongorul hashimnikka?’ (“Can you speak English?’) the monk called to them.

The man looked up quizzically and replied, “Ne, chom hamnida.” (“Yes, a little.”)

At that the old monk laughed, stood up very straight, and clapped his hands. He waved the couple to join us and soon the new visitors were on the landing with us, and we were exchanging greetings. The monk then gestured to us to come with him. Leaving our shoes cm the stairs, we followed him down the landing, into a hall, and then into a dimly lit room.