greek charades, anyone?

The other day my doorbell rang. I opened the door, a Korean woman and her young son walked right in. She was giggling and enthusing in Korean as she looked around my apartment (including my bedroom, bathroom and balcony) and her son went straight into my son’s bedroom and started playing with toys. I kid you not.

We sat down. I offered her a drink. We (in a fashion) talked. Lots of gesturing. Many awkward silences.. that I rushed in to fill. I thought it kind of worked. Quasi-communication! Hey look at me Mum.. no hands! Well, more like: Hey look at me.. two hands, facial expressions and full-body movements that would win me a place on any self-respecting charades team.

It wasn’t long before I realised just how quickly I would be thrown off that imaginary charades team.

I had just spent several minutes saying (and acting out) that my son and I lived here a couple of years ago. Same apartment building, different floor, etc. She was nodding excitedly and giggling. Bingo! Now we’re getting somewhere.

Then she waves her arms around simulating swimming and nods in understanding, “Swimming!”

What the?

I gave up. Laughed. Nodded. “Yes, swimming.”

It seems even in Korea.. it’s “all Greek to me”.