Oh Hye Won: The Early Years

Mil-hwe Rewatch Priming:

As we enter the weekend and head toward our second chat on our rewatch of Episodes 3 and 4, I thought we all could use a refresher on just exactly what is our understanding of OHW’s background, courtesy of @ktomato ‘s impeccable research and story-telling abilities.  Enjoy!  –@gretac

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Author: @ktomato; with @gretac (with apologies for putting some words in the author’s mouth)

Oh Hye Won: The Early Years

Hear ye, Hear ye!  There has been loud clamor and tumult and commotion in Soompiville, with citizens in uproar not knowing the background of the woman of cunning, mystery, and intrigue, Oh Hye Won, demanding to know what her past may be like, accusing our collective ignorance of preventing them from studying, and exclaiming how awesome and triply moving it would be to know.  Lo and behold, our one and only @ktomato, citizen of super stature that reaches the stars, immediately volunteered her awesome encyclopaedic knowledge, insightful spying and detective work, and hysterically hilarious story-telling abilities to assuage our voracious need to know.  Come gather ’round to the Greek Town Square and hear the true story of the childhood background of Oh Hye Won Kenobi [eh, what what?  oh!  wrong story… err…] ahem, of Oh Hye Won Seonsaengnim.  Listen as Author @ktomato begins her tale by skilfully weaving together OHW’s present personality with her childhood background and experiences…

Ahem-hem-hem-hem-hem.  Yes, well, it will surprise none of you to know that Oh Hye Won came from a very humble n poor background.  Her folks are poor, uneducated, and terribly traditional.  Her dad was the typical man of the house who gave & showed no love to no one.  He resents having 2 girls n no son and treats the girls n their mum without respect.  He laments that the girls can’t help him in the field (he’s a farmer) and thinks HW is crazy to want to play piano, something they can ill afford and doesn’t bring in any dough.

HW’s mum is an ok mum but she’s helpless.  HW n her sis gets along fine too but she’s got kids and is pretty tied up with her own family woes.  They are simple uneducated uncomplicated folks and will never understand, even if they try, HW’s world n the stuff she does.  That is why HW didn’t tell them about the trial.  She didn’t want to worry n confuse them.  The fact that her mum readily takes in HW’s stuff for the long haul due to ‘renovation’ goes to show that HW n mum are on cordial terms, her mum is clueless about HW n about renovation, she’s gullible, she trusts HW and HW probably provides for her folks since their home is big enough to accommodate HW’s stuff.  It shows too that HW’s dad has mellowed down over years or perhaps he’s subject to HW’s generosity since HW can bypass him to get her stuff stored at his home.

But, Madam Author, you haven’t explained anything to us about this: how was HW exposed to the piano?

Oh-HO, @galpianist, I’m really glad you asked that question. Because… Hmm…if only HW’s dad had been a bullied civil servant…there would definitely have been more opportunity for HW to chance upon a piano than there was since her dad was a farmer!  Hahaha…

(let’s see, I think I better wax more eloquent…this audience is more demanding than I thought…)

One day whilst out in the tomato field helping her dad out in his daily chores, an old beaten rickety truck drove into sight along the dirt road that ran along the vast tomato fields.  It was still some distance away, but for some peculiar reason it caught young HW’s attention.  She straightened her back and placed her hand above her eyes to shield them from the glaring sun.  She squinted as she stared at the truck slowly but surely rumbling and shaking its way along the uneven and bumpy dirt road towards her direction.  She closed her eyes to feel the warm sun rays soaking into her skin and listened intently at a strange sound that was so unusual but yet so familiar.  At first she could only hear the sound of the old engine of the truck but from beneath the low rumbling noises there emerged another sound that was light at first, tinkling sounds that evoked her senses and made her want to dance.  The peculiar yet sweet n melodious sounds grew louder as the truck approached and eventually filtered through the background white noises exposing a mounting crescendo of the loveliest of music reconnecting HW to a world from which she had disengaged…the sounds from a single instrument emitted such fluid and hauntingly beautiful resonance that echoed throughout the tomato fields.  HW broke into a broad smile her heart bursting to the brim with this new found love.  She opened her eyes in time to see the truck whizz past her and in the open top rear cargo thingy (what’s that called?) was an old piano in all its glory and perched on the piano stool playing intently the angelic tunes that were now flooding HW’s mind and soul…was none other than – er – *cough* Rumplestilskin – er– *cough* Ramanoffsky – er – erhmrhmrhm, and the rest is history…which explains HW’s obsession in her adulthood over *cough* that-guy’s *cough* book, …and reveals the startling news that HW is actually an 80 year old vampire…

But, Madam Author, I understood you to say that OHW was introduced to piano by Sviatoslav Richter during his truck-piano tour, so how could she be an 80-year-old vampire since he did his small-town piano tour in Siberia in 1986 when she was the perfect sensitive impressionable age of 12; and is it true then that her father was a farmer in Siberia?

Ahahahahaha @gretac (what are you, a friggin’ reporter?)… Siberia??  (hmm, Siberia?!? quick, talk about something else while I figure this out, I mean remember, let’s see…) Yes, yes, Richter… Ah…Richter, the guy who devoted his entire life to music!  He even tried to develop a scale to measure the tempo n intensity of music but he went so overboard with it that his project failed but only to be resurrected years later by a geological scientist and utilized to measure the tempo and intensity of seismic activities such as earthquakes.

But I digress…

That afternoon young HW was sent by her mum to run some errands in the village centre about 30 mins away by foot.  As she approached the local kimchi shop in the village centre she spotted the old rickety truck with the piano in its ‘convertible boot’ parked outside the shop.  The old but nevertheless grand looking piano was glistening majestically under the afternoon sun.

HW was mesmerized by its grandeur and as though the piano could speak (“play me, I’m yours”) it beckoned HW forward to caress its keys.  HW under the spell of the piano made her way towards it and started to clamber onto the truck.  Suddenly she heard an angry voice shouting at her from behind, “Hey you poor n filthy girl!  What do u think u’re doing huh?  Trying to touch a piano?  Don’t u know u r not even fit to look at one not unless you are from the upper class and being rich is in your DNA…like me??”  The harsh punishing words pierced through HW’s heart and became ingrained in HW’s subconscious.

HW’s face turned scarlet from embarrassment as she quickly stepped away from the truck.  She turned to face the angry voice and saw a young girl around her age dressed in an exquisite red little frock with a matching sun hat and the shiniest n prettiest black patent leather shoes that HW had ever seen.  No doubt, this was a rich kid from the city.  HW observed that the rich kid was probably with a plump middle aged man nearby, probably her dad, also dressed in rich garb and obviously distracted by an ajumma from the village soup shop.  She could hear him crooning away “Hey lady, why the blank and sorrowful eyes?  I’m going to embrace you at some point in time.” > SLAP! < (feisty soup ajumma!)

(loud cheers from the Greek Town Square!)

HW noticed too that the rich girl too, like her dad was also chatting up some young boys around half her age (yeah, 6 year olds… teeheehee)… Obviously annoyed that her amorous advances towards the little hotties were thwarted by the appearance of HW, the rich girl reached down for her shoe and swung it towards HW “Take that you lowly unworthy being!” she hollered.

HW dodged the flying shoe and ducked into the kimchi shop.  There was an unusual buzz of excitement in the otherwise usually quiet nondescript kimchi shop.  The shopkeepers and customers were surrounding a tall Western gentleman, each one of them including the gentleman, gesticulating and speaking excitedly with each other or rather across and over each other.  HW recognised that the Western gentleman was the one playing on the piano on the truck earlier in the morning.  Her eyes brightened in awe at meeting the man that made that heavenly music.  She thought to herself “Ahjussi cham…shim ha ghee e ppue neh!”

The Piano Man was speaking in broken Korean with very strong Siberian accent and everyone else was telling him “What on earth are you trying to say?  We don’t understand.  The village translator is not around today because she is held hostage by her mother in law!”

But HW who is gifted with an acute and discerning sense of hearing could make out what the Piano Man was saying,.. “I was on my truck-piano tour in Siberia when I took a wrong turn and ended up in South Korea… I bumped into a Chairman of some music foundation who wanted me to stay to tutor his daughter… I’m supposed to meet them at a soup shop…”

(Greek Town Square listeners spontaneously burst forth into a full rendition of Piano Man, all 4 verses with chorus)

(ok, I gotta get out of here fast while they’re all happy, before someone asks another question…)

Following the telling of the tale, the singing of the song, and the abrupt exit of the Author, much Debate ensued in the Greek Town Square of Soompiville, interrupted with occasional La-la-la-de-de-dah’s, regarding the specifics and details of both the past of OHW, and its implications for her past and current behavioral choices and accountability.  But that is a tale for another time.

Credits (phrase contributions): @galpianist, @dualnon, @docster6, @seungshinl, @mdj101, streetpianos.com