Kissing

‘Do you wanna get a taxi?’ asked Rox as we neared the subway station. It was total laziness, but the backs of my thighs ached from the hike.

‘Yes,’ I said.

The taxi had placed itself ineptly by a lamppost. It was impossible for customers to enter. We had to knock on the window before the driver moved his vehicle into a sensible position.

‘Sinchon-yok chuseyo,’ said Rox, as we breathed and let heat massage our muscles.

‘Taxis are fucking great,’ I leant back, ‘they’re just so warm.’

The sangyapsal rested in my stomach and I put my hand on Roxanne’s leg. My mind moved back to our post-walk restaurant, the look an old man had given me as I placed a kiss on her lips.
‘Are we breaking some huge taboo?’ I’d said.

‘Yes,’ said Rox.

Korea’s position on public kissing is less clear than that of other Asian countries. In India, tonguing on a train is almost as offensive as a blowjob in a bank. And in Thailand you won’t need to tell couples to get a room; they‘ll get one before they begin.

On my first night out in Seoul, I noticed teenagers kissing against walls together, like British fourteen-year olds at bad discos. When I asked my students what old people complained about in Korea, one of the gripes was snogging in the streets.

‘They say young people are so rude, because no one used to kiss outside.’

In the taxi, not knowing how bad it was, I leant over to Rox, moved my lips towards hers, wrapped arms about her warmth.

‘Excuse me,’ piped the driver suddenly, ‘you, your partner, seeing each other?’

‘Pardon?’ I said.

‘Speaking English, English I don’t know, is it called, seeing each other?’

‘Yes,’ said Roxanne, ‘it’s called seeing each other, or dating.’

‘Or going out together,’ I added.

‘What is your country?’

‘England.’

‘America.’

‘What is your hometown famous for?’

‘Stonehenge,’ Roxanne prompted me.

‘Stonehenge,’ I said.

‘Stonehenge,’ the driver frowned in the rear view mirror, ‘I don’t know well. What is it?’

‘Just a bunch of stones, really,’ I said.


Conversation paused as we rose on the road over the river. Lights, pulling softly, held the horizon and the sky together.


‘Actually I don’t like kissing,’ said the driver. We bumped onto hard ground. ‘ I don’t like kissing in my taxi.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ I said quickly, ashamed I’d been so insensitive.

‘Why not?’ pushed Roxanne.

‘My wife, she never kiss me now.’ said the driver.

‘Is it rude, though?’ I asked, ‘kissing in the back of a taxi?’

‘She says that if I can make money, then she will give kiss to me.’

‘But is kissing in taxis impolite?’ I repeated.

‘I am jealous of your action.’

‘But is it rude?’

‘No, no, not rude,’ said the driver.

‘Well in that case…’ I kissed Roxanne. Both Rox and the driver laughed.

‘You are actor and actress,’ he said. I wasn’t sure why. Lights around were closer now, buildings clamouring for space.

‘Excuse me, what is your job?’

‘We both teach English,’ Rox said.

‘Ah, English teacher. I used to teach English. Now I am taxi driver. Not enough money. My wife, she tell me to make more.’

‘Ah, chogiyo,’ Roxanne leant forward, ‘ This is my stop Joe. I’ll call you later.’

‘Ok,’ I said.

‘Excuse me, your girlfriend?’ asked the driver as we pulled away.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Very beautiful.’

‘Very,’ I said. I smiled, and the lights got brighter.