The eagle has landed, y'all! (Part Two)

I spent the next day or so with the fambly, desperately trying to get all of my crap to fit into two suitcases and a backpack. After a little "So Long" get together at the the abode, it was choo-choo choo-boogie and off to Seattle one last time. I attempted to check my luggage, but was five pounds over the limit on one case. The solution? No, you cannot just "pay a fee" to get your heftitude onto the train, exuberant reader. You have to chuck half of your items into a box that, surprise surprise, you must buy from the line. They sold me a box, Ryan and I quickly but joyously crammed the box full and a few strips of tape later, I was on my way. This go 'round, however, I was not at a window and in yet another place (this time a train car) which smelled of incontinence. I spent the majority of my time trying not to think about the craziness involved with an airport and suitcase wrangling. There was a movie playing on the monitors in the train but it kept fuzzing out about every five seconds, so I gave it up as a bad job and tried to sleep sitting up. When I got to the station, I tried to reclaim my luggage. HA! No such luck. Some dude at the Portland end of the line had forgotten to give me a tag for the heavier (now not as heavy) suitcase and I was left with a grumpy, 7' tall blond woman telling me she needed my claim ticket or I'd have to fill out paperwork. Swell. After checking the luggage tags, noting that they matched and that the luggage was, ya know, a set, she let me on my jolly way. Outside, I grabbed a cab to the Korean Consulate.

This time the lady at the counter seemed glad to see me and after looking over the passport for several long and probably dramatically unnecessary minutes (but...it was good drama, so I kind of enjoyed it) she gave me my passport, complete with Visa. With this final step accomplished and after performing a small and gentle impromptu jig in the elevator, I hopped back into the cab and dashed to the Marriott near the airport.
Let.
Me.
Tell.
You.

The Marriott was all it was cracked up to be. The staff was smooth and helpful in a way that made me wonder if they hadn't taped a "Kick Me" sign to my back. After checking my back in the mirror, I settled into my gorgeous room. I got two beds, as I am big enough for two people (three in Korea!) and I do lurve a good sprawl. I watched a lot of TV and relaxed, taking a little jaunt out to Pike Place Market to do a bit o' souvenir-ing and trying to get used to being on my own for real. It was a great experience, except I bought this really cool Tibetan bracelet that ended up turning my wrist green (how do you say "lame" in Tibetan?). After that I jazz-leaped my way over to Nordstrom's and bought the cuff links. Not that I needed them, I just...didn't want the salespeople to think I was some kind of jerk. Come to think of it...that was dumb. I'm never going to see them again. HOWEVER! I have some gorgeous cuff links to wear when I'm feelin' fancy in my pantal region.

The next day was take off time. I spent the night previous weighing my luggage in the gym at the Marriott, trying to get them below 50 pounds. Ultimately I left a torn pair of jeans and a broken backpack behind. Big whoop. I got to the airport and there seemed to be a problem with my e-tickets but, luckily the attendant there helped me out and it was on. I had done reasonably well with the push/pull thing but wasn't too excited to repeat it in Korea. The first flight was to be just under 10 hours, but I spent the time pleasantly enough, watching movies and guessing which of the airline staff had secret affairs going on. I counted 3. They think they can hide those lingering glances but...I've seen enough prime time television to know when something is going on. Oh yes.

We had a brief and humid layover in Narita airport (Tokyo, Japan). This was the beginning of the sweat. It started slowly but by the time we boarded, it was raining from my scalp again. We stopped for an extra long time here because one of the passengers HAD to go pee pee before we reached our cruising altitude. I mean...seriously...you're getting on a 4 hour flight and you don't pee beforehand?! I mean...I hadn't but this guy should've known. He got his just desserts when I glared at the back of his head for five minutes while we spent a good half an hour getting back into flight line. He couldn't see me but the hairs on the back of his head knew shame that night.

I was antsy all the way to South Korea from Tokyo. Why? Well...the thing is...while I was at Pike Place I bought some dried fruits for my recruiter's assistant as a thank you for helping me get to Korea. When you're making your departure, they hand you this little thing asking if you're smuggling babies or produce into the country. I checked "No" on the produce and tried to convince myself that fruit lost its produce status when you dried it and put it in a Ziploc bag with a label. The rain became a monsoon and I'm certain the person on my left thought I was having a stroke or heart attack or a combo of the two with supersize fries and a diet coke. I left the plane and tried to look tired rather than nervous. I went through the line and got my passport stamped. At this point I was hot, moist, melting, irritated, nervous and feeling slightly insane, like you do when you go to an overnight party and everyone has pledged to stay up but nobody wants to. I shuffled downstairs and collected my luggage. Crazy thoughts entered my mind. Maybe I could just...open my suitcase and eat the suckers right there at the baggage claim. Maybe I could pretend that a friend had left them in there as a nice surprise for me and I had NO idea I'd even taken them with me overseas. Maybe I just walked right past the guards who accepted my claims ticket, glared and let me through. I met with my driver who spoke no English and drove exactly like I was told he would: Maniac on crack. At least it was over quickly. Seoul went past us in a blur and we ended up in Ilsan.

Ilsan looks like if Vegas had some kind of Asiatic outpost which had been organized by a 10 year old girl. Tall buildings, crammed with various businesses in their many compartments, each with a brightly colored label...in NEON! Most of Korea seems to prescribe to the Lisa Frank train of color theory: the brighter - the better. The brighter and more varied the colors and neon and a cute mascot - the best (click here for some examples of Lisa's work http://www.lisafrank.com/default.cfm?page=Gang)My co-worker, John, showed me up to my apartment. It's actually really nice. The floor is quiet. My door is keyless entry (with a keypad instead of something I have to carry around on a chain). The apartment is a studio/loft. There is no bedroom per se but there is a nice loft space above the kitchen and then the living room extends beyond the two. The bathroom is modern (no squat toilet! YAY!) with a glass partition for the shower.

I'll get to the showers in another post.

The apartment has about everything I need to survive: TV, iron, ironing board, washing machine, drying rack for clothes, pots and pans and plates and utensils, a toastah, and a bed. The bed is something my brother and mother would love. It's in the realm the bed business calls "extra firm" but which my sacroiliac calls "a pine slab". Actually it's not been bad. The only drawback is that the windows in my apartment are roughly ten feet tall. Without. Curtains. Remember where I live? Lisa Frank-threw-up-on-a-neon-factory Land? Great for advertising. Not so good for sleeping. I had my first dream a couple of nights ago. It's been rough on that end. I finally collapsed, exhausted and sweaty into bed, notified that I would be heading into work at 9 am sharp the next morning.

To be continued.

PS I may stop with the day-by-day unless something special happened and do topics instead. Or I may do both. We'll see what kind of time I'll have. Hope you're all doing well! Thanks for the comments and the e-mails!