I did not sleep at all the night before my 6 a.m. flight to Seoul, South Korea. As I watched the clock move closer and closer to sunrise, I thought about all that led me up to this point. It all started because I somehow got a degree. Then, my mom had somehow run into a friend of another woman she used to carpool with whose daughter had been living in Asia for a year. A few websites, a few interviews, and lots of paperwork later here I was, my entire life packed into a couple of bags, staring at a slowly ticking clock and anticipating the thirteen hour time change. I had slowly said goodbye to everyone over the last week, which was more difficult than all at once. First, I said goodbye to Brian, but only for a month and a half since he'll be coming to work at an English Village outside the city. I said goodbye to my uncle, two best friends, and brother. The rest of my family. I said goodbye to a bunch of other friends. I said goodbye to my sister. Then I said goodbye to my aunt and grandma. Then my other brother and sister. Only my parents were left. I knew it shouldn't be as difficult as it was. It's a finite amount of time, and with technology like Facebook and Skype many of my relationships--and face to face time--would honestly probably stay the same. All I want to do is travel, so leaving should be protocol. Being the oldest child, I had always thought of our seven member family as a tight unit, almost like a ball, all packed together in a house. Then, because of time, age, dreams, ambition...I shot out, and moved to New York City. Painful, lethargic, yet nessecary, the unit loosened. Then my sister, then my brother all followed...to the closest major city to home. We were somewhat less clustered, but still close enough to be "home". And now, being the first to really move away, the unit is no longer a unit, but a bunch of individuals wanting to stay in touch and involved with eachother's lives--people who must be willing to make an effort. My mom and dad, the family they made, has changed forms. It has evolved. Being the oldest and the first, this move represented that change perfectly. They both insisted they drive me to the airport.
Under fifty pounds, and my two bags would cost $70. If one was over the weight even by half a pound, there was an extra charge of $200. The woman weighed my bags, which both came in at exactly fifty pounds. So, I was sent through security: 120-ish pounds of me, and 150 pounds of luggage (with my carry-ons).
As the plane filled up, I found myself still wide awake, with my heart pulsing. I was excited, nervous, sad, estatic...all of the above. I had a window seat. Thankfully, for the six hour flight to San Fransisco, the seat directly next to me stayed empty, and the girl on the aisle could not contain her excitement to have the extra space. She was coming from India headed to San Fransisco with a layover at Newark International Airport, which was almost the exact opposite of me. She was on the last six hours of her 24 hour trip, and I was on my first. It was nice to talk to someone who was almost done with a trip I was dreading--she had survived, and I would too!
"Any advice?" I asked.
"Stay wherever you're going for at least two months...less than that and this is NOT worth it."
She sounded bitter. Still, I said smiled and said okay. No problems there.
My flight out of San Fransisco was delayed an hour, so I spent the extra time wandering around the duty free shop, wondering if the extra weight was worth a bottle of Jack Daniels or wine. My bags were already so heavy I decided against it, and instead finally fell asleep near my departure gate. I woke up in what I thought was the 1950's, the airline stewardesses looked so perfect and pristine. A woman was calling my name. I headed to the front desk, towards the trim, beautiful woman in perfectly tailored, Asiana Airlines attire. She said I had lucked out: "It's in the back of the plane, but you've been upgraded to an aisle." Short of getting first class, this is the traveller's equivalent to winning the lottery. Twelve hours in the middle of two strangers was going to be awful. The aisle, in comparison, might as well have been first class to me. The food certainly was. Bimimbap, tiramasu, open bar (what what), red snapper and decently seasoned vegetables...I was full the entire flight. I slept decently, listened to some music, and read "Iron and Silk" by Mark Salzman. Even though the author is a bit of a conceited man who is loved, according to his narrative, by literally everyone in China, it was a perfect read. Compared to what I am doing, teaching English in 1980 communist China in a small town with sketchy electricity and no clean drinking water was infinitely more difficult. On top of that, China was at the time extremely anti-western, and his influence was monitored, limited, and closely watched. Needless to say, almost no one spoke English, let alone there being any recognizable food. I was reading this during a flight to a major airport in Seoul, that was both English and Korean, with Starbucks and McDonald's and an Outback Steakhouse waiting for me if I so choose.
Because of the flight delay I landed an hour late, which worried me since I had no cell phone, no access to the internet, and was entirely dependent on finding a sign with my name on it. The first time I looked around, I didn't see anyone. I took a deep breath, put my luggage in one spot, and walked furthur along. When I finally saw it, I couldn't believe I missed him. There was a man in bright orange pants, with a silver and gold jacket holding a sign with my name printed on it. I walked up and said that's me. He probably didn't understand what I said, but understood that the American girl with 150 pounds of luggage was probably the girl he was supposed to take. Without a word he grabbed a suitcase and started walking. I stood there at first, trying to figure out what was going on, then quickly struggled to catch up, grabbing my other suitcase. He put my things in the back of a car, pointed to the passengers seat, and we were off. We couldn't speak, and I was so tired I was struggling to stay awake when he turned on the TV. Yes, As he was driving, he pressed a button on the GPS and it turned into....a TV program. As he swerved around cars and through lanes he was watching some soap opera about a whorish woman being yelled at by an old lady. Just as her one true lover (or maybe one of her customers) burst through the door, the driver pulled up onto a sidewalk, beeping his horn at some pedestrians as if they didn't belong there. I assumed this was my cue to get out.
By the time I got to the trunk my luggage was out on the sidewalk, and my new job's director was there. We shook hands, and he told me to follow him. We grabbed my luggage and I went into the school I would be working at for the next year. He asked me to sit in my office and asked if I would like any coffee. I had no idea where I was staying, but it was 8 p.m. and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I assumed he offered because he was going to have me there for a while, so I said yes. Holding the coffee I struggled to pay attention to what he was saying, but it was all I could do just to keep my eyes open. It was now 8:15.
"We go to hotel at 8:30, okay? You leave luggage here."
That gave me fifteen minutes to repack a bag for the five days I would be staying at the hotel. At 8:30 he said it was time to go.
I followed him through some winding paths, noticing only peripherally the crowds and the lights. We turned into an unlit door, into a small elevator, to room 506 at what was called the Seoul Motel.
"You should be at the school at 4 p.m. tomorrow. Do you know how to get back?"
"Yes," I said, just to avoid furthur conversation, "I will see you tomorrow. Thank you for your help."
He bowed, turned and left. I closed the door, ran the shower for a few moments to wash away the past twenty-four hours of travelling, and fell asleep.
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