Don't you worry...

I do...

In a matter of fifteen minutes, I had met Paul, a thin fifty-something year old man with rapid gestures and a fatherly smile, followed him hurriedly through the nighttime streets of Itaewon, a maze of foreign tourists, american soldiers, salespersons, and prostitutes, and was sipping on a glass of Chardonnay, de-shelling mussels in his restaurant on the strip. Paul alternates between a state of destraction: fidgeting, craning around, and tending to friends and customers, and that of still and meditative repose. We barely talk at all. In another twenty minutes, he would be handing me off to Suk Chun, the famous actor who remains the only public figure in the country to have outed himself, and in another fifteen, we would be on the balcony of his Chinese restaurant being introduced to friends. A young woman with a compact hairstyle, a compact clutch bag, and an irritated countenance seats herself next to Suk Chun.

“Brian, this is Marie, the famous actress, and WAX, who's in town recording her second album.” He leans in toward me. “They’re very popular.”

Not really sure what one says to this, but I eek out a "pangapsumnida".

We engage in some small talk about the evening and I turn to introduce myself to the hip and attractive young man to my left. “So what do you do here in Seoul?”. He looks a little uncertain as to what to say. “Ah...I’m a singer.”

Marie taps her ash and eyes me jauntily, "When did you get into Korea, Brian?"

“Um, yesterday.”

Shameless Asia Travel Photo Montage!

Vignettes: Night one in Seoul

Neatly-boxed rows of orchids and umbrella trees glide by as the disembodied voice of the Incheon airport advises me to maintain contact with the rail while passing through quarantine video screening. Watching the smartly-dressed strangers move serenely under the cool, clean light, I’ve never felt more barbarian. I step out onto the disinfectant mat.
~~~“Here, let me put some pants on… There’s a little love motel down the way.”

Standing like a totem, backpack-laden and soaking in the center of the living room, I watch this stranger hop into his jeans. A slight Japanese girl weaves around, collecting rubbish and sports paraphernalia while a group on the couch curse in Korean and crane to see around her.

“It’s real nice - I had a mate, lived there two months. Just took off though.”

“Hey thanks man. But I think the hostel'll be just fine.”

“...it’s too bad - we’re a man short now. Hey, do you play rugby?”
~~~I tread cautiously, jacket over head, down the steep, narrow alleyway. Water courses around my feet. A motorcyclist slithers down on my left while an old woman climbs slowly, sideways on my right - umbrella in one hand and a bucket of crabs in the other.
~~~The beers crash from the table to the floor, but the boys, still dancing, grab hold of the chandelier for balance. The house lights pulse from purple to green to blue and with an outburst from the crowd, the DJ hits up a disco remix.

Clock it: 3 hours and 45 min in Korea. Right on schedule.

Down in the safety of his backpack, tarnished fingertips quietly roll the bitternut meat into a ball and press it with a piece of mushroom into a dried out lime rind. Looking up, he thumbs on an unknown paste, and hunkers over once more - carefully removing the filter from a cigarette, laying the tube of tobacco atop the pile and inserting the whole thing into his mouth.
“Something to drink, Sir?”
Franklin looks up and shakes his head furtively, chewing. I order a seltzer, and the plane-load of dozing Koreans, the Palaui firefighter and I begin our descent into Seoul.

Strangers on a train

In a unexpected wave of nostalgia and good old-fashioned American nationalism, I decided to take the Amtrak cross-country to San Francisco for one long wave goodbye before launching my small frame out across the Pacific.

Naturally, the idea of climbing aboard the mother of all US public transport systems sends my socialist heart a pitter-pat. 39 hours to the coast? No problem! This is AMERICA we're talking about - these are the landscapes that inspired the postcard (probably)! And though my trip unfortunately lacked the sort of mysterious and sultry encounters with strangers that Hollywood promised me, the landscapes were indeed impressive and at least no one got killed.

So long America - 안녕하세요 Korea!