Guangzhou, China

I am writing this from somewhere in China.  I could put down the name of the city but it is currently in my bag full of random computer wires and electronics charges (when combined with the appearance of my external hard drive and alarm clock look something like a bomb in the airport x-ray machine, if you were wondering).  There’s not much point in naming the city though because I am in an airport so the city and even country are really irrelevant. 
There is a wall of windows to the left where planes take off about every 5 minutes.  I like watching the take-off despite my own inability to not sweat profusely when I am directly involved.  I left Seoul at 9:40am, and arrived here 4 hours later (but we went back in time for an hour during the flight). 
The flight was mostly ok.  The plane itself was the least impressive plane I’ve ever been on.  The tiny tv screens would raise and lower randomly through out the flight.  I wasn’t feeling very good about being boxed in with NO legroom but I lucked out and the guy who should have sat in the middle of the trio of seats never showed. 
I popped a xanax and felt pretty okay for most of the flight, but it didn’t alleviate anxiety enough for me to say that I actually enjoyed it.  I was tired and started to doze towards the end, and that’s when I tend to freak out: jerking awake and remembering I am in a plane. 
There was an interesting 10 minutes when the plane suddenly dropped more than I had ever felt before.  It then bounced to one side and the other.  The intercom went off amidst the creaks and thumps of shifting luggage and people.  Her voice was tonal and her words were fast.  She was talking about turbulance and there was a dash to clip seatbelts in a hurry.  I buckle mine as soon as I sit down and I never unbuckle it because I do not get up for anything- I didn’t pee once on the 13 hour flight to Korea. 
The turbulance went on and it got pretty bad for a few moments.  Over the years I have developed this weird way of dealing with turbulance: I shift around in my seat.  If I am moving myself up and down the drops and bumps don’t seem so intense.  They left as fast as they came and the guy next to me didn’t notice regardless because he managed to sleep through the entire damn scenario.
He slept through the whole flight.  I envy people who can do that.  I can’t even sleep in a car.  I am also really happy he slept through it because anytime the plane bounced or turned I looked like I was severely constipated with both arms linked under the arm rests and my mouth sealed shut.
I have also developed these weird habits on planes that seem to help with flying anxiety.  I don’t really even notice doing these things.  I will pinch or scratch myself if I am tired.  Sometimes I will pull out a hair.  These were tips on some website I read before I came here.  A little pain to bring you back to reality.  Some people wear rubber bands so they can snap them on their wrists if they start freaking out.  I also hate being hot so I almost always end up with my jeans rolled up to my knees to alleviate that hot, itchy feeling you sometimes get.
So, by the time I land I basically look like a moron wearing high cut black socks, nice black shoes, capris pants, and missing a bunch of hair on my arm.
I am exhausted.  I am starving.  I am thirsty.
This section of the airport is fairly bland.  After misunderstanding the immigration official as to where I should stand as an international transfer traveler and looking like a moron standing in the middle of a room for 10 minutes, I made my way to the international departure floor. 
I’m not impressed. 
It is one long hall with the sort of ugly grey rug with swirls of blue and brown that remind me of cheap clothing stores I went to as a kid.  There is only a scattering of a half dozen stores selling nothing I currently want (food, drink, a secret money belt).  Further, there is no money exchange here so even if there was a store selling, I don’t know, maybe a triangle kimbap, or candy, or chips, or a soggy pre-made sandwich at this point, I wouldn’t be able to eat.
There are no ajjumas here.  Everybody looks pissed off.  The entire place smells like stale cigarettes because the “smoking room” is actually just an area on the floor with no walls and little vacuums that fail to suck in much smoke at all. 
In each of these smoking areas is a machine that dispenses water.  My mouth was dry and stagnant so it was a welcome sight but it took me a bit to figure out how to use it- there were a surprising number of buttons and levers.  A woman tried to help me and I thanked her in Korean without even thinking about it.  I suppose there are a lot of habits I have picked up over the past year.
I opted for the cold water.  I filled my Seoul thermos and headed back to my seat / bed.  It was about 90 degrees.  There is one man sitting directly across from me.  He is picking his nose with enthusiasm.  He is also wearing white pants and is pretty obviously not wearing underwear.
Only another 6 hours to go and I will be on my way to Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam.

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Wandering Downtown

Cherry Blossoms.

A year minus a day or two I said my extended "so longs" to my girlfriend (at a train station), my sobbing mother (in my predawn livingroom), my less sobby sister (same room), and my dry-eyed father (amid exhaust and noise at the departure drop-off at Logan Airport). In a few days I say goodbyes that are likely to be permanent to all of my Korean friends.

I haven't thought too much about the real end of this Korea thing. Most of the time it seemed to be so far off that giving it too much thought wasn't worth it. Then, before I knew it, I didn't want to think about it because I knew it was right around the corner. Now that I have less than a week left in Cheongju; in this one room apartment with warped floors and no attached plumbing on the sink, I have no other choice.

I now realize that I basically have no departure plan. With preoccupations (the lost passport) and money issues with my school (with a dash of extreme procrastination thrown in) I have failed to book any hotels, looked into any activities or things to do on my trip. Hell, I haven't even booked my final ticket home yet.

The plan:

Leave Seoul on 4/25 and arrive at some point in Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam.

The next ticket I have booked leaves Bangkok, Thailand a couple of weeks later, give or take.

In the mean time I am spending a few days in Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, and MAYBE a brief trip in Malaysia.

I then fly to Barcelona, Spain to see my friend Jordi with whom I used to wait tables and be taken apart by customers routinely.

Then, I fly to Logan whenever I get a ticket and complete this around-the-world loop.

The River.

As for what I’ve been up to recently: nothing very productive. The cherry blossoms have come and have basically left. The days have been really nice in Cheongju, a couple I would dare say hot, so I have made time enough to walk along the river even though I usually end up in Home Plus just the same.

The Yellow Dust also came. It blows in from the industrial towns in eastern China as an off colored haze full of mercury and lead. Between that, the radioactive rain from the disasters in Japan, the over-reactive minds of Koreans when it comes to health, the news would have you believing Korea was one toxic heap at the moment. But, it isn’t. I don’t think. I will make a note to see if I have super strength before I leave.

I’ve seen some pretty cool things recently while walking around the river. While meandering around with my camera (soon to be upgraded!) I followed what sounded like drumming. The beats led me to the track near Downtown (or Uptown like I used to call it) where everyone skates or ride all sorts of inane, ass-backwards bikes.

Members of the Ajumma Army.

It was here that I saw a dozen or so ajummas marching around in circles, drumming in formation. There were some older guys and college students mixed in, all led by a young guy in some sort of fancy pants. I don’t know what they were doing but I guess they were practicing for some sort of traditional performance. Either that or the guy in fancy pants now has well disciplined army of ajummas.

Last Friday / Saturday and Saturday / Sunday I spent a lot of time at the bars with my friends here. We saw a band that played Oasis covers and they made me prematurely nostalgic for Korea. It is hard to imagine a Friday or Saturday that doesn’t involve the same four bars and my Cheongju friends. Heck, I still expect to see my friends who have left walk in.

On Sunday, after realizing that I was way too hungover to deal with the hell that is Home Plus on a Sunday, I walked a but further down the river than I had before. Where as traditional drumming led me to the Ajumma Army, old-school bob brought me to some festival at a Buddhist temple that I never noticed until that day.

I walked in and tables lined the courtyard. A few were covered with canopies as those sitting under it served simple Korean foods or made crafts. Across the dirt ground was a cluster of covered tables withh a half dozen families eating. Monks walked here and there. I could see shadows of people bowing in the main temple.

A Buddhist temple in Cheongju.

I lingered for a while there until an older guy, having something to do with the party, came over and talked to me for a while, asking if I wanted to eat something or anything else. I bought a bracelet and left as Louis Armstrong came on over the loudspeaker.

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How to replace your lost passport in Korea

A few days ago I set out to send some money home and go to the pension office to cash ou of the Korean Pension Scheme.  This leads to the only informative thing in this blog. 

What do you do when you lose your passport less than two weeks before leaving Korea?

Here is what you do:

1. Panic.
2. Panic and google "Lost Passport," "Seoul," "Emergency," and various onscenities.
3. Look up how to get to the embassy the next day.  Then freak out when they tell you they do not take walk-ins on Wednesdays.
4. Try to make an appointment at the Embassy in Seoul via their convenient appointment program.
5. Swear when it doesn't work on the school computer.
6. Swear and throw stuff when it doesn't work on your computer at home.
7. Contact Larry and have him do it forward.  He got me into Korea and he can sure as hell get me out.
8. Thank him when he gets you an appointment.
9. Stay up all night watching Modern Family and get on a bus at 6am.
10. Fill out the passport application / list passport (also known as "you dumbass, how could you lose your passport).  
11. Arrive at the embassy and admire that it's in a really beautiful part of Seoul.
12. Stand at the security door awkwardly. 
13. Walk in and hand the man a printed paper indicating an official appointment / hand him a handwritten copy because you don't have a printer.
14. Give the man your bag and kiss your Kindle / phone goodbye (for the duration). 
*** Write down your phone number.  You look like an ass when they figure out you dont have it memorized.
15. Take your badge and cross a parking lot.
16. Walk in and stand at a window until somebody comes.
17. Explain (with a certain amount of shame) that you are, in fact, a dumbass and lost your passport.  Remember that the Embassy is a prominent and reoccurring character on Locked-Up Abroad and feel a little better.
18. Have your number called well before your meeting time.
19. Give them your passport photos.
IF NOT:
- Follow a horrible map to a building that has a photo company who will give you photos. 
- Get lost in a goddamn fire station because the map is crappy.
- Walk to the top floor of the right building (behind the fire station) and ask for the photo service.
- Be told that the photo service was the mall-photo machine you passed in one of the stairwells.
- Pay 8,000W with a 10,000W bill and be told afterwards that no change will be given.
- Take the worst passport photo possible.
- Navigate sizing options as a timer ticks down.  This, it should be noted, is a hell of a lot more stressful under the duress of losing your passport when you are leaving the country in a short amount of time.
- Avoid adding bigger eyes or cute birds as those are both options.
- Laugh and say "WTF Korea."
- Return, passing protests and a line of people at the back entrance looking to get a visa to the States.
20. Give over photos and think about how you will look like a sweaty pedophile in your passport for the next 10 years.
21. Fill out your address on a mailing card and pray to god it works because you can only get a cab to your apartment 50% of the time.
22. Swear an oath.
23. Be given map number 2. 
24. March down to the police station to file a report mostly to avoid identity theft.
25. Turn in report.
26. Leave.
27. Go to Dragon Hill Spa to sleep.
28. Eat Taco Bell in Itaewon to make sure you ruin the rest of the day.
29. Take a bus home with the hope of atleast accomplishing something that isn't a step backwards (like cleaning the apartment you trashed looking for your passport).
30. Be called into school to teach your last class.
31. Fall asleep at your computer.
32. Hope like hell you do not find your passport.

All in all, it wasn't too bad.  I am stressed as hell but the embassy was really helpful.  Shit happens, I guess.  It cost me about $130 for the replacement and it will take a couple weeks.  Casually, the woman told me that I shouldn't worry yet when asked if I should postpone my flight.  She then gave me a card and told me to call it if I didn't ge my passport the day before my flight and they would see what they could do to, which I take to mean an on-the-spot solution.
Also, I made friends with the security because I had to go in and out repeatedly.  Don't lose your passport right before you leave.  It feels horrible.

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Why students should never know where their teacher lives

I spent last weekend fairly determined to do nothing productive or healthy. One of the consequences of traveling around the country to see the friends I hadn't seen in a while is that I was away from Cheongju and my remaining friends here for a few weeks. I got to miss them.


I went out Friday night. It wasn't anything too ridiculous or out of the norm; it was a normal Friday. Amanda and I went to Pearl Jam.

Pearl Jam is the homeliest of the handful of foreigner bars and it also serves the most decent food. This is something I do not know for sure as I have not indulged in any of the food at Buzz or MJ's, but Pearl Jam burritos trump Road King Burritos. These things become important to a guy.

We played Jenga until my burrito arrived. By the time I had finished my food (maybe 45 seconds after the plate was put before me; I was hungry and I had the shakes) we were joined by Gavin, Robyn, et al.

We drank, talked, and joked our way from Pearl Jam to MJ's.

The only thing I really like about MJ's is decent popcorn, and a 2 hour happy hour with 2,000won gin and tonics.

My opinion of the place rises in warm weather after the roof deck is opened and you can hangout in the fresh air above the city. The weather in Korea is warming up but the roof hasn't been cleaned and it still looks like it has been hit by a series of tornados.

I left in control of my senses at around 2am. Not too late all things considering. I could have gone to bed and woken up to a glorious gray and misty day and done something productive in the morning.

I didn't.

I went back to my apartment and played Xbox with my friends and drank some soju I had in my fridge. I went to sleep at 5am.

Still, not horrible.

What is horrible is being woken up by pounding on the door.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and decided to do nothing. The most serious thing at my door at the early hour of 1pm was a repair man or somebody else on official apartment business. The knocking came again. My apartment was a disaster anyway. I had been trying to get rid of things the past week and with the clothing and general clutter I looked like a hoarder.

Most likely scenario was the ever common Jehovah's Witness; a scenario I didn't really feel like dealing with. The worst case scenario would have been ---

"THOMAS TEACHER!"

Oh shit.

It was Ji-Huan.

Hearing his voice startled me, but there was no reason for me to be bothered. He knocked again and shouted my name, with the addition of "teacher" despite my current state of hiding, hungover, in my own filthy apartment waiting for a 10 year old to go away.

He shouted again.  Everytime the boy says my home, including in school, he says it with this manic crescendo at the end.  Usually I think it is funny.

Eventually I heard Ji-Huan begin to turn my door knob.  It was ever so slowly and subtly but it made a distinct sound. 

"That sneaky ... little... ohdeargod."  At this point I realize two things:

1.  I am butt-ass naked.
2.  I forgot to lock my door.

Several scenarios went through my head and none of them ended without one of us being traumatized or in jail.  I stopped breathing for a few seconds.  I might have prayed.  Anyway, in those few seconds I decided my only plan of action was, if he came in, to spring up with my blanket open and in front of me, wrap him up, and push him right back out the door.  With a bit of luck he would think it was part of a game and even if he didn't I was ok with the idea of Ji-Huan being a little confused for a few minutes.

To ruin the story he turned the handle and walked away. 

On Monday he told me that he came by to my apartment to visit and I told him I had no idea what he was talking about.

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