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Friday, October 24, 2008

It’s 10:15 PM on Friday night here in Seoul. I left Denver at 8:30 yesterday morning. It is now 7:15 AM on Friday morning in Denver and 6:15 in California. I think I officially just pulled my first all-nighter.

I don’t know whether it was nerves or turbulence or the feeling of being in a space so small it was like I was one of those cows you see when driving on the Grapevine in California, the large, industrial dairy farms where the cow’s are locked into stocks, unable to move, and forced to eat whatever crap is thrown in front of the reach of their mouth- which is a good description of the food I got-but regardless of the reason, this was the longest flight I’ve ever been on.

I’m NEVER not able to sleep on a plane. But this time around I couldn’t sleep for a minute. Up until the last hour, when we were descending into Korea, there was blinding sunshine outside of the windows. For nearly 16 hours there was nothing but sunlight outside my window. Every other time I’ve flown, it’s been via an eastern route. I’ve never flown farther west than California. And guess what I learned, folks, when you fly west you better do it as a red-eye because if you don’t you’re going to spend the entire flight trying to explain to your body that despite the glaring white rays penetrating you, it’s really 10 PM, or midnight, or 1AM…

I was, literally, chasing the sun the entire flight.

When I arrived in Seoul, it was around 6:30 PM and while getting dark I could see a very large river that intersects most of the city. There were large navy carriers spotted through the water, which I’m assuming are the ones the majority of the burly, neckless, American men on my plane were heading too, but aside from that my viewing was limited by the onset of night. I was glad to see it was finally coming. The airport is one of the cleanest I’ve ever been too (and clearly marked in English, Mom) and after getting through the slowest custom’s line I’ve ever been privy to, guess what?

My luggage was WAITING for me.

Never, in the history of my traveling experiences, have I not had to wait for luggage. Never. Ever. I looked at is something of a miracle. Sound dramatic? Well, before you judge, remember I’m the girl who spent the first two weeks in Italy with one pair of underwear because my luggage never made it out of the states.

After insisting 3 or 4 times I’m not American Military personnel to the Korean men who were there rounding up all the new recruits to take them to the base, I left the terminal and stepped outside to where the people, who aren’t connected to the military, have to wait to greet passengers from planes.

First thing I see: there are lots of signs for English teachers. Professionally printed on glossy cardboard or handwritten out. “YESL School is happy to greet Miss So and So, and Mr. Blah Blah” or a mini“Mr. Guckkity Guck” banner. So on and so on. Good, sign, I think to myself. I’d read there are lots of Americans/Canadians coming to Korea to teach English, so I was glad to see evidence.

Next thing I see: A flimsy piece of cardboard, the kind that looks as if it was ripped from a box, with the word “Megan” written in purple marker. No last name of the name of school. Just a forlorn looking man holding this ripped cardboard.
Good thing, I thought, that I saw my luggage as a good sign. Because this current sign was definitely negative, and with one positive sign already in my pocket I could just call the whole thing a draw.
Well, as soon as I connected with him he called Jen, the manager of the school whom I’ve talked to before, and she welcomed me to Seoul and told me this taxi driver was taking me to the school, which is located in downtown. “An hour and a half, tops.” She says.
It took us 3 hours. Apparently Jen forgot to account for the ridiculous amounts of traffic on Friday night.

It didn’t appear he spoke a word of English, so we were totally silent for the ride. It was fine with me because I had time to take in all the gadgets in this taxi. It had a talking GPS and a radio and a mini tv. It was by far the cleanest taxi I’ve ever been in. It made the dilapidated taxis in Chicago look like juvenile delinquent in comparison.
I tried to get a good look at the city but all I could really see were lights. Lots of lights. I’m sure cities like Tokyo and Beijing are even more brightly lit, but Seoul looks like Times Square on acid and with fireworks going off constantly. It’s vibrant and colorful, including lots of companies also found in the Homeland. Marriot Hotel, Starbucks, Baskin Robbins, Hewlett-Packard, Starbucks, Gap, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and Starbucks. Surprisingly, I’ve yet to see a McDonalds. But did I mention I’ve seen Starbucks?

My school is indeed located in the downtown area, apparently just across from Olympic Park, but it’s dark so I can’t see anything not fueled by electricity. And despite what the cardboard and shady van may have indicated, it’s a beautiful school. I got a quick, brief tour of it, but it’s clean and well lit and very nice looking. Jen and two other Korean women had staid late waiting for me, with a cheesecake and bottle of orange juice as welcome presents. The ladies are all very nice, and very pretty, which worked in making me feel like a total grunge ball.

Apparently I’ll be living in a single apartment next week, when the girl I’m replacing leaves, but starting tomorrow night until that apartment becomes available I’m living with another teacher who has a spare bedroom. That leaves tonight, my first night in Korea, to be spent at a little joint called The Hotel Rendevous. Sound scandalous? That’s because it’s one of many motels in Seoul catering to the illicit activities of its residents. They’re like a Super 8 or Motel 6, but most of it’s levels are underground. My room is on the 3rd level but I’m still below street leve. Also, and this is my favorite part, the parking garage is covered so that anybody walking by who might notice your car, would not be able to see it. If you’re still worried, however, the front desk has plates they offer for free to hide the numbers on your car.
I’m serious, I was reading a chapter in my Frommer’s Guidebook on the airplane about these.

Tonight the girls and guys at the school, I saw them for about 2 minutes when dropping off my bags, are going out clubbing for one of the girl’s birthday’s. They were all very friendly, extending an invitation to me despite my uber trendy appearance in glasses, sweat pants, and a smelly t-shirt. And, sigh of relief on my part, they all look around my age and don’t dress like librarians. A couple even had on some very heavy make up. It may sound odd, but I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about what teachers are supposed to look like, and seeing that they look like me makes me feel a little bit better about teaching myself.

Alright, I’m off to bed. I am not sure when I’ll have internet to post this, but as soon as I do I will. I’ll keep dating the entries I do write so that in case I have to post a few at once, you’ll see the order in which they were written.