Chu Seok? No you suck!

Chu Suck, the Korean thanksgiving was this weekend.  While I am very thankful, this really just meant that I had a four-day weekend.  Sweet.  Instead of going to Thailand or the Philippines as some of my co-workers did, I decided to continue visiting South Korea.   (the flights were a lot cheaper.)  My friend, Terez Whatley, who began teaching in Ilsan (a satellite city northwest of Seoul) about a month before me, came and visited me in Bundang.  It is nice and very bizarre to meet with up with friends in foreign countries.  It’s like the stage-hands forgot to turn the rotating back-drops and switch out the props, but the play continues anyway with the actors performing on a totally unusual set… if that makes any sense.  Anyway, I did my best to take Terez around Bundang Saturday night.  We had a good time and the next day he showed me some popular areas in Seoul.  This was my second day in Seoul and it being Chu Suck it was not as busy as it normally would be, but I was still impressed.  We toured a Chu Suck festival taking place in a central plaza, where we bought reed hats, separated grain, walked on stilts, threw wooden spears into buckets, and of course watched a badminton/hackey-sac-kicking competition on stage.

That’s city hall behind us.

There are many transportation options available for getting around Seoul.

The space invader on the left is actually a woman with a ginormous visor. These actually are not very uncommon. They follow from Korean women’s desire for pale skin.

After this we went to a historic palace across the street.  I regret that I forget the name of the palace, but I do know that it was rebuild around 1910 after a devastating fire wiped out the previous monument.

Hey where did Nick go? Maybe we should ask the native Korean sitting over there.

We also visited Itaewon that day, which is the part of Seoul located next to the U.S. army base.  Itaewon has the largest concentration in all of Seoul of foreigners from a range of nationalities.  Americans, Canadians, Italians, Indians, Chinese, Japanese as well as countries in Africa and the Middle East.  It was quite a melting pot.  It was the first time Terez and I blended in to the crowd all day.  There were a variety of stands, stores, and restaurants in this area.  We ate at an Indian buffet, but the curry was a bit cold and the dates were pretty dated.
On  Sunday I again met up with Terez in Seoul, but this time with my co-worker, Mike, and his Korean girlfriend, Hanwool.  We visited two different market areas; a smaller outside market called Namdaemun market and a bigger shopping area called Myong Dong (sp?).  It was a lot of fun.  These markets, especially Myong Dong, were packed with people.  We were barraged on all sides with a variety of sounds, sights, and a steady stream of people.  It is one of those types of places where one couldn’t really stay still for too long because there was too much traffic.  I like places like this.  It was very lively and exciting with many interesting things going on.  It was the satellite TV of people watching.  I bought a new knock-off watch for 5,000 won ($5).  Mike and I wagered how soon we thought it would be before the watch stopped working.  He said 3 months.  I guessed 3 weeks.  Three hours later the watch was already 15 minutes behind.  When I woke up at 10 this morning the watch was stopped at 2 am.  I gave it a couple resuscitating taps on the back and it started up again.  I’m still wearing it, but I don’t think I can ever trust it.  Anyway, we all went cloths shopping in Myong Dong as well.  I bought a few items.  I am really digging the Korean style.  I could definitely see a fair bit of my money going towards it.  The fashion post however will have to come later.

Namdaemun Market, where I bought my faulty watch

The Korean ideal... women with alien eyes.

Myong Dong

Notice the amusingly incorrect English on the display signs.

Myong Dong at night

At the end of the night Mike, Hanwool, and I parted with Terez and headed back to Bundang, where we stopped for some ice cream at a Cold Stone Creamery.  Cold Stone, along with Dunkin Donuts, Basking Robbins, Starbucks, Quiznos, KFC, Outback Steakhouse, and of course McDonalds, is a pervading chain here in Seoul.  Many of you readers may recall that I used to work at a Cold Stone in high school.  Well, the trip to Cold Stone the other night may have been my first time back in a Cold Stone since I quit working there my Senior year of high school.  This, therefore, was another one of the bizarre moments I have had here in Korea.  The sights and smells of this franchise brought me straight back to high school.  Here I was, in Bundang South Korea, and I felt like my 17 year old self going into work.  “Welcome to Colduh Stone,” the young Koreans behind the counter attempted.  That’s my line I thought.  At the risk of being redundant, I want say that everything about the place brought me back 5 years.  The smell, the menu, the toppings, the waffle makers, the frozen slab of granite, and eventually the taste of the ice cream itself. I made sure Hanwool told the Koreans behind the counter that I used to work at a Cold Stone in the States.  They got a kick out of this and one fella, in pretty good English, offered for me to come around the counter and mix up my own ice cream. Anyway, this may be too personal for a good blog entry, but it was very bizarre from my perspective.  I avoided the temptation to tip the Korean workers and have them sing a song like I used have to do for tips, although, it would have been pretty amusing.  I thought about it a bit more as we sat outside and ate the ice cream, which was just as expensive and mediocre as it always was.

Korean Road Trip!

A few months ago my friend David, who I have mentioned throughout this blog, succeeded in obtaining a Korean drivers license.  To us foreign teachers this only meant one thing… KOREAN ROAD TRIP.  Two weeks into my time in Korea this is exactly what we did.  After school let out last Saturday evening five of us foreigners piled into what I would consider the bowling shoe of rental cars and headed south with the ultimate goal of reaching the southern coast of South Korea.  While driving across the entire country would seem like quite an endeavor in the States, in South Korea, which may be comparable in size to Georgia, it is a rather minor feat.  Nevertheless, it was a road trip and we were in a foreign country and that was exciting enough.  We drove into the night, our car running on pure excitement and adrenaline (which may have been why we got such good gas mileage).  We stopped at rest stop where we met a traveling Korean wind ensemble, who were very excited to meet some Westerners and take many photos.  We dueled with our cameras in this manner for a few minutes before we headed off again on the road.  They were particularly interested in the curly blond hair of my friend, Jacinta.

showing off our rental car

everyone wants a photo with Jacinta

Later that night we arrived at our final destination for the evening, the bustling university city of Janju (sp?).  We parked our Korean compact car on a side street and set out on foot.  The city on this Saturday night was buzzing with neon lights, people, and a range of noises and smells.  After walking around for a bit we found a nice outdoor eatery where we decided to dine that evening.  It was there that I tried octopus!  The suction cups were more suctiony than anything I have ever seen.  I hesitated a bit, but then went for it, drawing out a nice bit of Ursula with my chopsticks.  The texture was rubbery as I expected, but the overall experience was not totally unpleasant, in fact it even bordered on enjoyable.  The head on the other hand, which I tried later, is making me gag now as I write this.  It was like the ripest, juiciest, punch-me-in-the-faciest grape I have ever had.  The thing just exploded and oozed in my mouth and I swear as I chewed I heard little voices telling me to do horrible things.  But all in all the meal wasn’t bad.  The beer helped.

our little octopus garden

Invigorated by fresh tentacles and suction cups we headed out on the town.  After walking around for a bit we managed to locate a happening club on one of the upper stories of one of the buildings.  We walked in.  The music was great and the place was packed, but no one was on the dance floor.  The Korean youths all sat awkwardly at the surrounding tables.  We wandered for a little while and ordered a few drinks at the bar.  All of a sudden everyone at the tables, and I mean everyone, stood up all at once and went to the dance floor and started dancing.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I am used to people entering and exiting the dance floor in small numbers, but like clock-work the entire club moved from the tables to the dance floor.  It was very bizarre.  I tried to ask the Korean girls I was talking to what was going on, but with the loud music and the language barrier they did not understand what I was saying.  About 15 minutes later the DJ said something and everyone went and sat down again.  I was perplexed.  Is it adult swim now?  What is going on?  We went to another club after where the same thing was happening.  Everyone got up and sat down together.  The music didn’t change.  The DJ still played the same hot dance music while everyone was seated.  At one point I and two other fellas were dancing on floor by ourselves during the rest period.  Eventually everyone came up again.  I like to think it was because of us, but it was probably time for everyone to start dancing again anyway.

“Man, I can’t wait till it’s dance time again...”

The peace sign seems to be the Korean default when you don’t know what to do with your hands in a photo.

Afterwards we headed back out to the street and stood around for a bit deciding what next.  We figured the only reasonable thing to do at that point was to go to the nearest Jim-ja-bong, a common Korean sauna and hot-tub bathhouse.  In the U.S. of course, it is not very common to end a night out at the clubs with your comrades by enjoying a sauna or hot-tub completely naked among a room full of like-gender strangers.  But this is what we did.  Going from extremely hot and steamy saunas and tubs to very cold pools was kind of like playing freeze tag with my heart.  I don’t think my body new what was going on.  The Koreans however believe this to be very healthy and cleansing.  It may be.  Afterwards David, Chris, and I donned the uniform T-shirts and shorts given to us at the door and went to meet up with the girls in the common hall.  This large hall was a site indeed.  The expansive wooden floor along with that of several accompanying rooms was almost completely covered with Koreans of all ages wearing the same rented shorts and shirts sleeping on thin mats and stiff log-shaped pillows.  This is where we too would be retiring for the evening.  As I walked around I felt like a farmer surveying my crop of people.  They were very ripe.  After we unintentionally woke up one of the workers to buy a few waters to replenish all the body fluid we left in the saunas I went back up to the bathroom and took out my contacts.  When I came back down David and Chris were nowhere to be found.  Although with my contacts out it is possible that they were 10 feet in front of me waving.  In any case I found a free mat and pillow-log and found a free plot of floor between and old man and later a couple young lovers.  It was not a very restful night to say the least.  The lovers kept moving around and one of their mats kept pushing into mine.  I wanted to tell the lovers to stop pushing the corner of their mat into my ear, but I didn’t know how to say, “excuse me, lovers, your mat is in my ear” in Korean yet.  The old man on my other side was ok, but by morning his feet had ended up on my mat and a little foot-tangling did take place.  I think he started it.
That morning (a few hours later) we left the Jim-ja-bong and got an authentic breakfast, the name of which slips my mind (something like beep-im-bob).  This mixed rice dish is pretty famous in that area.  It was good, but a little too vegetably for me. Afterwards we got back in the car and continued south.  Eventually we arrived at our destination, a renown green tea plantation.  Unfortunately it was closed. The sign out front probably indicated this, but “we are foreigners and don’t speak Korean,” so we ended up hopping the small gate and took a look around.  It was very scenic and reminded I and Jacinta of an Italian hillscapes endemic of the Amalfi coast.  See photos below.

"Who's hand is that?"

Afterwards we headed to another local Jim-ja-bong.  (I know what you’re thinking… believe me we’re not “steam-freaks”.)  This particular Jim-ja-bong was very nice.  It was located right on the southern coast.  From the hot-tubs we were able to look out the broad windows and watch the sun go down over the hills and inlet.  The best part about this Jim-ja-bong, however, was that the main hot-tub was filled entirely with green tea. For real.  It was really nice.  We stayed there for a bit steeping in the green tea. I felt like a giant crumpet being dipped in a massive cup of tea.  I enjoyed being a crumpet.  While we bathed in a local beverage we started up a conversation with the only other non-Korean in the place.  He was a Ph.D. student from France.  His name was something like Godillon.  I have always wondered who would be the first person I would ever meet entirely in the buff, I should have known it would be a French man named Godillon.  Anyway, he spoke good English so we invited this solo travel to join us for dinner.  We ate sam-gap-sal, which is a grilled pork dish.  The only difference in this case was that the pigs from which the meat came were raised on green tea.  We enjoyed our green tea pigs as we ate with green tea chopsticks, and green tea plates, as the green tea clouds softly drizzled green tea on the green tea rooftops.  (The part about the pigs is true.)

I think the fella in the back is the French guy... though it is hard to tell with his cloths on.

After dinner we said goodbye to Godillon and we piled back into the car to begin the 5-hour trek back home.  We did make one last stop before leaving at a roadside green tea and green tea paraphernalia shop.  We bought some green tea and some tea candies to bring back to the other teachers at school so they would be jealous of our “tea-time”.  The store was very nice and so was the woman who ran it.  She served us some free green tea along with some green tea gummies.  These may have been the first gummies I have ever eaten that were not shaped like a dinosaur or a Looney Tune.  Some good conversation and a few driving games later, we made it back home to Bundang, where we nestled back in all snug in our beds as visions of grean tea leaves danced in our heads.

Teaching!

I arrived in Korea Saturday evening.  I knew I would begin work the following Monday, but it didn’t seem real until mmm… maybe 4’oclock that day.  Classes begin at 4:20.  While I had been hanging out with teachers from my school that weekend and found out some details through them (when school starts.), I was still expecting some kind of formal contact with the administration beforehand.  I think if David had not picked me up from the airport (of which I was fortunate) and one of the administrators had instead, as is the custom, I would have felt differently.  But anyway, by chance I ended up running into, Mike, one of the senior foreign teachers, around 2:30 on Monday afternoon in the lobby of our building.  He took me out to a nice Vietnamese lunch with him and his girlfriend and then led me to the school around 4 o’clock, 20 minutes until I would personally be teaching my first class.  Since one of the teachers, Emily, was away in the U.S. that week there was no room for me to observe any classes, so I had to dive right in.  And I did.  I was given books, a desk, and a few notes from the previous teacher and when the bell rang I was to go to my first classroom full of little Korean students and teach them English.  At 4:20 I went straight into my first class, wrote my name on the board, and got introductions underway.  The first day was a bit overwhelming, but I think I did pretty well considering it was my first attempt at teaching.  At 11pm when classes were over it felt great to head out into the streets of Korea with my fellow foreigner teachers ready to go out for a drink and continue my immersion into my new country and culture.
At this point I think it is worth telling you a little bit about my school, the Korean education system, and my students.  I teach at a school, that has recently split off from the rest of the family chain of Seoul Language Institute and adopted the new name of “Leadersville.”  I’m not sure if this means our school is now a village or some kind of strange reality TV show.  Maybe both.  Both the teachers and students seem to find this name absurd.  Like many examples of Korean borrowing of English sloganage it doesn’t make much sense.  I think one of the foreign teachers even said this name was actually submitted as a joke when they were looking for a new name for the company, but to their horror, it ended up being chosen as the best title to represent who we are.  We are Leadersville.  As David commented though, I will definitely be putting Seoul Language Institute on my resume.

This is the new multi-story Leadersville banner hanging from our school building. I forgot to mention that at Leadersville everything is huge, even our president (featured above)… he’s a giant. It’s weird. (photo courtesy of Alex Pollack)

Anyway, Leadersville is not actually a village full of leaders.  It is a Hogwan, which is essentially an evening school where Korean students come to learn English.  What that means is that for my students, like many Korean youths, they wake up every day around 6 or 7 to go to their regular school for a full day of classes and in the middle of the afternoon when regular school gets out, around the time when I would normally have been home eating Cheeze-its and watching Ricki Lake, these students begin an additional 3 hours of Hogwan classes, which include speaking, writing, and listening training from foreign teachers (me) and English grammar lessons from native Korean teachers.  This means that by the time I get my box of Kore-O’s each day many of them have grown a bit stale.  Not only do they have evening classes, but they have school on the weekends as well.  When I come in to class each day and ask my students how they are, some common answers are “fine,” “baduh,” or “so so.”  When I ask them why, the reasons usually have to do with homework, weekend academy, or exams.  I’d like to tell them back in my day it was worse… but I don’t think it was.

“Go Ricki, Go Ricki…”

Anyway, this being said, there is still a good amount of personality, enthusiasm, and responsiveness in my classes.  Each of the students chooses an English name for him or herself.  This is both good and bad.  It is good because I can pronounce and write their names successfully.  It is bad because they choose names like “Yes,” “No,” “Something,” “Nothing,” “Everything,” “Anything,” “Hungry,” “No Homewark,” “Throw Vision C (our textbook) Away,” “Stomach,” “Ipod,” “BMW,” “Sponge Bob,” “Abraham Lincoln,” “George W. Bush,” “Audrey Hepburn,” “Angelina Jolie,” “Goofy,” “Cookie,” “Kwak,” and “You.”    You try admonishing someone named “George W. Bush” or “Stomach.”  It isn’t easy.  Every time I go through the attendance and call out “No Homework” the class cheers.  Anyway, while I do sometimes feel like the monotone Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, I am enjoying getting more familiar with the little personalities that do exist in my classes and I imagine my students will be an entertaining resource for future blog posts.

“Bueller…Bueller…Bueller…”

Eating In Korea

Among other things, the new friends I have made have introduced me to an array of new food dishes.  Eating in Korea is very communal.  Everyone sits around the table (sometimes on the floor) and digs his/her chopsticks into the same shared dishes.  I hear that when cold season comes around this can sometimes be quite devastating to the school as everyone seems to get sick together as a result of this meal sharing.  This communal approach to eating has also forced me to be more proficient with my spoon and chopsticks in order to not be beat out by the rest of the herd.  Another thing is that a good amount of cooking, especially with meet dishes, is done at the table itself.  Usually there are one or two main dishes at the center of the table accompanied by a variety of side dishes, often consisting of flavorful combinations of vegetables; cabbage, sprouts, potatoes, peppers, beans, seaweed, radishes, lettuce leaves used as wraps (I call them “lettuce tortillas”), and almost every meal is accompanied with a dish of Kimchi, spicy pickled cabbage, a stable of Korean cuisine.  Along with the vegetables there is plenty of rice, noodles, egg, beef, pork, chicken, seafood, and tofu.  The meals are very flavorful and usually not without a selection of sauces.  Since I have been here I have tried octopus, quail eggs, fish paste, and several new rice products among other things.  Also, there is plenty of ramen noodles available if you have no money and are worried about not getting enough sodium.  I’ve also tried aloe juice, which is great, and corn tea, which is horrible.  Instead of further attempting to describe the many new dishes I have been living on, I have posted a few photos below of some of the bigger ones.

A communal meal of bulgogi (grilled beef)

cooking bulgogi

Dak-galbi (a spicey dish made of chicken ribs, sweet potatoes, and these little marshmallowy bars made of rice)

Mondu (meet-vegetable-and-noodle-filled dumplings)

Kim-bop (A seaweed and rice wrap. I am not sure what all else is in it, but I can tell you I’ve eaten a lot of it.)

Kimchi!

Welcome To Korea!

I have always wanted to arrive at a foreign airport and be picked up by someone holding a sign with my name on it.  That’s what I was told to expect at Incheon International Airport.  When I entered the main atrium of the airport, however, I found no one waiting for me with a sign.  I did not panic.  I strolled up and down the atrium past several welcome areas lined with families, friends, and business representatives, looking for my name on a sign.  I enjoyed the stroll.  I was taking in my first exposure to Korea.  After passing several welcome areas and turning down several ambitious taxi drivers my eyes fell upon one of the few other Caucasian faces in the atrium, my friend David.  What a pleasant surprise.  It had been over a year since I had last seen David, but we immediately renewed our in-person friendship and headed off on about an hour-long bus ride to my new home in Bundang.
As David and I carried on a rapacious conversation I observed my new setting outside the window.  Everything I saw was new, but at the same time as I expected it would be.  I had seen several pictures containing the numerous uniform buildings with bold neon Korean script that immediately drew my attention. My new city was both totally foreign and familiar.  The city struck me as affluent, organized, and comfortable as was the post-monsoon-season summer weather as David and I stepped out of the cab in front of the bold yet welcoming luxury tower, The Grand Palace Housevill, my new home.

David took me up to my new studio apartment, my new perch on the 21st floor, where the first thing I laid my eyes upon was the incredible expansive view beyond the large windows above my bed.  From these windows I can look down upon the beaming lights of the vibrant strip below; the bars, restaurants, and storefronts.  I can see the river running parallel to these lively planned city streets.  I can see the mountains and hills set as a backdrop to other cities pocketed in the distance below the streaming icebergs of the clouded sky.  Finally, if I squint my eyes just right I’m pretty sure I can see the neon lights of Tokyo and the tip of the space needle in Seattle.  I’m pretty sure.

My room has an initial tile platform at the entrance where I am to leave my shoes before stepping onto the sleek hardwood floors.  The floors are to remain unscuffed, which means I can no longer long-jump into my room with my boots on as I am used to (sometimes one needs to make sacrifices when visiting a foreign country).  I have a washing machine with buttons labeled in Hangeul (Korean script), which should be pretty interesting come cloths-washing time.  I’ll have to find out the Korean characters for “permanent press” and “cotton sturdy”.  I also have a mini-kitchen for my mini-cooking and a bathroom-shower where I am able to shower, brush my teeth, and relieve myself all at the same time.  (and I do.)

Notice the showerhead. Notice me!

My room is decked out with a variety of interesting gadgets.  First of all, my door handle talks to me in Korean whenever I lock or unlock it.  I have not yet figured out what this pleasant female voice is saying, but I can only assume she is saying something like “You look very handsome today” or “Thanks for touching me”.  Again I’m not sure.  In any case I always say, “thank you, you too” just to be on the safe side.  She may also be saying something like “help I am a very small person trapped inside your door handle please let me out, I really need to go to the bathroom”.  I’ll have to ask David.  Occasionally, and sometimes early in the morning, I am woken up to what sounds like a Korean prayer coming from the wall opposing my bed.  Apparently, these are service announcements for the building.  Service announcements are nice wakeup calls when you understand the language.  However, when you don’t understand the language the experience is that of being torn from your slumber with one part of your mind still chasing grumpy teapots in a cornfield in Kansas while the other half is wondering what urgent events are taking place in your building.  The first time I heard this I just laid in my bed with the befuddled “what the F*&%” expression of Billy Murray in Lost in Translation.  (I think I am the Bill Murray of Korea… now I just need to find my Scarlet Johanson so I can abandon her once my contract is up.)  In addition to this I have what appears to be a handheld video game console beside my bed.  I had tried several times to play video games on it, to no avail.  Apparently the little screen lights up and displays whoever rings the doorbell outside my door.  I of course did not realize this at first. So when my friend Chris came to my door the next day to take me out to lunch, I thought he was inviting me to a Skype conversation on my wall, which I eagerly accepted until I was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Bundang is an exciting, prosperous, and comfortable satellite city.  It has a satisfying pulse, which may be only a reverberation of the greater organ of Seoul, but is still very thrilling and at times electric.  I really enjoy the prevalence of dazzling neon lights that appear to be the trend all over urban Korea.  Light pollution is offensive, but I feel you would really have to be a devout cynic to view this signage this way.  Like a moth I am drawn to it as well any other bare display of vibrance I have encountered in this country.

From what I have been told, Bundang, the bustling, thriving city where I now live was nothing but farmland 10 years ago.  While it is likely that this is a bit of an overstatement it is true that Bundang, like many of the other satellite suburbs of Seoul, exploded from “fun size” to “king size” in the time it took me to sprout my first few facial hairs.  I had a friend in elementary school and later highschool named Martin Izaguirre, who in the sixth grade had facial hair thicker than I may ever know.  I am pretty sure he had to shave almost every day to keep it under control.  Bundang, in so many ways, is like the bristly Mexican chin of Martin Izaguirre.  It is a beard on a sixth grader.  If I may.   It is the Pop Secret in the microwave of Seoul.  It is the Jack in Korea’s box.  And off in the distance I hear the music of many more to come.
From my window I can see a sparse forest of cranes hoisting up the next city.  From what I understand, a pattern exists in the development of these satellite cities where the entire city (apartments, offices, restaurants, department stores, etc.) is built all at once.  Which means they are as planned as China’s opening ceremony; with wide streets running between uniform buildings lined like dominos, convenient cute little parks, and concentrated commercial centers.  At some point the ribbon is cut and everyone moves on in.  Again, this is my understanding.  I don’t have the full picture.  I imagine at one point someone has explained it better and in more detail to me, but my spacey mind seems to have rested on popcorn and Martin Izaguirre.

I have been very fortunate in being immediately accepted into a fun and friendly social group of foreign teachers here in Bundang.  The night I arrived, after dropping of my bags in my apartment, David and I headed straight out to his Korean friend Hanwool’s family’s apartment, where I met many of the teachers at my school including another Emory graduate (Alex Pollack) and a friend (Chris Snyder) from a previous road trip David and I took in the states.  This is also where I enjoyed my first Korean meal of home-made Dak-galbi.

The friends I have made here, most of whom work at the same school, have been really great.  They are all very good humored, friendly, and laid back.  For my first few weeks they have showed me the ropes.  Rarely have I eaten alone or had trouble finding people to go out with.  It has worked out very well.  I am sure each of these new faces will have a presence throughout the rest of this blog.

My Journey

After several flight changes my itinerary from Atlanta to Seoul was finalized as a flight on Delta from Atlanta to San Francisco early in the morning on Friday, a four hour layover at the San Francisco airport, and finally a flight on Singapore Air to Seoul, South Korea.  I was remarkably cool and laidback through the whole trip.  For the most part everything went very smoothly.
Very seldom do I win in any form of lottery or game of chance.  But at Hartsfield Airport I was a winner.  My boarding pass was randomly chosen to have the marking “SSSS,” as the security officiator pointed out.  This meant that I not only got a full body massage, but my entire bag got reorganized as well.  Which is good because before I went through security I was wondering why I decided to keep all my belonging in my bag rather than in a loose pile outside of the bag.  Like I said though, I was pretty laid back during my travels and didn’t really care about the thorough security check.
The most interesting part of my journey was the flight on Singapore Air from San Francisco to Seoul.  On Singapore Airline the drab western flight attendants are replaced by numerous Singapore princesses in full ornate gowns and make up.  Generally I like women who wear the redundant jeans, skirts, blouses, dresses, etc. from any of our fine clothing establishments; Gap, Old Navy, Urban Outfitters, Abercrombie and Fitch, Target, American Eagle…  These women on Singapore Air however, without saying a word or making a face, laughed at me and called me fool.  They introduced me to a more elegant and refined understanding of beauty.

I had Singapore princesses as my flight attendants.  This meant that by pressing the button in front of my seat I could call to my side a Singapore princess who would graciously attend to my needs.  This therefore was probably the coolest button I’ve ever had.  And I’ve had many.  The princesses gave me many exotic gifts, which included a pillow, blanket, headset, toothbrush and toothpaste, and some sort of biscuit with tasty meat inside of it (I don’t know why in the States we stuff our biscuits with biscuit when we could stuff them with meat… it was very good).  They also continually offered me a selection of drinks.  I had a bit of a cold that day so I decided I would drink orange juice, but ended up asking for wine because I wanted to impress my Singapore princesses.  I think they were impressed.  My princesses gave me an elegant menu with meal choices for the flight from San Francisco to Seoul along with meal choices for the continuation flight from Korea to Singapore.  Or so it seemed.

I enjoyed my meal of chicken and rise, a biscuit, salad, and a wonderful ice cream bar which my princesses brought me separately.  Afterwards I fell asleep for an hour and dreamed about the wonders of Singapore.  I woke up again as one of the princesses with a cart beside her offered me the choice of either a beef dish or a vegetarian dish for my second meal.  While I do like meals, this was rather upsetting.  A second meal?  I thought the second meal was for the continuation flight from Seoul to Singapore.  Did I miss my stop?  Was there a yellow cord I was supposed to pull to let the pilot know I needed to get off at the Seoul stop?  Why is this airline a city bus?  Someone could have told me my stop was coming up.  “Excuse me Singapore princess, can I have a plane schedule for the Singapore-Korea route?  Also… who would I talk to about the sun not going down for over 20 hours?”  Well I went ahead and ate my second meal (because I do like meals) and it eventually became clear, to my relief, that the plane was heading toward Seoul and I had not missed my stop.  I was ready to pull the chord once we started getting close.

My Last Night In Atlanta

If I ever undertake a memoir or an autobiography I am certain I will end a chapter on Thursday evening, the 21st of August, amidst the reflective buzz of my drive home from Twain’s, a pool hall and brewpub in Decatur.  It was at Twain’s where I held my last hoorah with my in-town friends before I headed off on my journey to Seoul, South Korea, early the next morning.  I had posted an event on Facebook a few days before and was very pleased with the turnout that night.  I felt like George Bailey in the final scene of It’s a Wonderful Life as a range of my friends continued to trickle in throughout the evening.  Friends from high school, friends from college, friends from work, friends from study abroad, dorm-mates, house-mates, family friends, friends of friends… I was continually moving chairs from the other sides of the pub to our expanding corner.  I have always enjoyed bringing different groups of my friends together and it please me a great deal to see intermingling, conversation, and phone-number-trading between these various comrades.  It was a very laidback and convivial evening.  A crowd of young people gathering together to share a drink in the midst of a changing world and a changing time of our lives.  It was just what I wanted before I headed off to my new life in Korea.

I have spent time abroad before.  I have left my home behind for extended periods to see other parts of the world.  But this time will be different.  During school I knew where to find my friends when I returned.  I knew exactly what I would be doing once I got back.  Now that the majority of my friends and I have graduated I can expect that things will be very different.  For good or bad, certainty has taken a back seat to possibility.  When I return to Atlanta after a year or so things will not be the way I left them.  I don’t expect them to be.  Many of my friends will have moved on to bigger and better things.  Many will no longer be in Atlanta.  For the ones who remain, our relationships may be quite different.  We will have different schedules, different occupations, different lifestyles.  My parents will still live in Atlanta, but my own roots there likely will not be as deep as they once were.  The future is more open than it has ever been.  This is both exciting and at times overwhelming.  Leaving for Korea was the end of a chapter in my life.  Tomorrow will be different.  I accept this and am ready.