Waffles

As I sit on my bed post-taekwondo with a box of waffle cookies, I ponder, while biting into the buttery, almondy goodness, something I find odd--yet delightful--about Korea. They thoroughly embrace other cultures, but on their terms. For instance, because of the abundance of American presence post-Korean War, there is English everywhere. It is often misspelled, and if you try to speak English, people usually tell you--in English--that they do not speak English.

Another example are these waffle cookies. I could walk into Home Plus (aka Tesco, the British WalMart I'm told) and buy three or four different types of waffle cookies. They also sell waffles folded in half and filled with the most fattening icing you've ever tasted (see post about cake mania in kindergarten for its pants-staining potency). These waffle carts are literally everywhere; typically I find one on a ten-minute walk in any direction.

Despite the abundance of waffles in this manner, I have never seen a waffle iron. Nor have I ever seen a breakfast restaurant, i.e. IHOP. (Thanks to being part of the Apple generation, I almost spelled that iHop, ha.) The irony makes me smile and pause--but not until after I ated my cookie.