The unknown has always appealed to me. It's one of the many things that attracted me to Japan: no country is as different to the UK (though there are similarities: island nation, a bizarre inferiority-cum-superiority complex, casual racism etc.)
I'm going off an a tangent here, sorry. The point is, as Japan has become more familiar, so my search for my next unknown 'fix' has widened. Cue South Korea.
This summer, a long-discussed tip to Korea with my friends finally came to fruition, and the grand journey started with me curled up on a bench in Haneda Airport. Because I'd frantically reshuffled my holiday plans at the last minute, I'd booked flights and accommodation far later than my fellow travellers, so I had to settle for an earlier flight. meaning taking a late train out to Haneda the night before and trying to catch some shut-eye: mot easy when the nearby escalator reminds you to please watch your step EVERY 5 seconds.
But arrving early was the right thing to do, and so I caught my flight with ample time and waited at Gimpo Airport in Seoul for Grant and Marcos. In the meantime, I readjusted to the fact that I was once again in square one: no language, no knowledge, no clue. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't frustrated, but there was also an element of relish to be had. I felt that same tingle I felt when I first set foot alone on the streets of Japan. And no longer am I a stranger to finding ways to communicate with poor language skills: I conjured up the courage to buy my first coffee in Korea far quicker than I ever managed in Japan.
My companions arrived a few hours later, joined soon after by Marco's Korean friend, Jonjon. She was an absolute legend throughout our time in Korea, helping us clueless tourists with everything from flights to food, and she was a fantastic person to boot. Our time in Korea would've been far poorer without her.
As our second flight to Jeju burst through the drizzly clouds, the crew engaged the passengers in a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, with the incentive of prizes. I was as useless 30,000 feet up as I was in a Japanese classroo, falling at the first hurdle every time. Before I could embarrass myself any further we descended to the first leg of our Korean trip: Jeju Island.
By now all of us were exhausted: it's a quirk of public travel that it saps your energy despite being effortless. Our fatigue, however, was stripped away by a taxi driver with a death wish. Averaging a speed well over 100kph we hurtled through red lights and squeezed through traffic that dared to stay in lane. Even when we arrived and staggered out with motion sickness, the guy was keen to be off before we'd even unloaded our luggage, trunk open n' all.
We checked in, dumped our bags, and stepped out. It was a cool night and the sea breeze was fresh. The walk along the seafront was the perfect anecdote to our transit tribulations. Finally, at a little inlet of beach we found a string of earthy restaurants, and we savoured our first authentic Korean food. It didn't disappoint. It was spicy, moreish and, though you had to pull out a dozen bones for every mouthful of fish, absolutely delicious - cheap too, a common theme in Korean food.
A trip to the conbini later and we were armed with roman candles, sparklers and beer. It wassimple, brilliant fun, and the perfect way to see in our first night in Korea.
No comments:
Post a Comment