MLK weekend away

I walked out of the Army base. The Korean soldiers at the gate told me where the bus to the subway stopped, and after an unsuccessful stop at an ATM, I arrived at the bus stop. The subway then Seoul then Busan were my destinations. With the air cold and crisp, the apartment high rises of the small city of Ueijeongbu rising in the distance, the sun on my face, and friends from last year in Korea waiting for me, I was ready to kick it Korean style.

The elevator from the subway station to Seoul train station was packed with people. I spotted a global ATM on the way up, and I was in business, it was won time. Soon I was headed to Busan on the KTX high speed train and in between the familiar scenery speeding by and the smooth ride I felt excited. Near the end of the trip the passenger next to me woke up and we talked for a while. In Korean. I was back.

F.E. and I successfully met in a subway station, no cell phone presenting no problems. For dinner that night I suggested delicious samgyeopsal, and the tent restaurant delivered. The jazz bar we went to later that night provided a nice setting to catch up on each other's busy lives. F.E. is living the extension dream of a Fulbrighter: no host family, a great apartment in a great city, a comfortable school placement, and 2 months winter vacation.

After seeing the sights of Busan and making my triumphant return to karaoke, I headed back to Seoul to meet A.K. We also had a great Korean evening, capped off by more karaoke. The next day I completed my transition back to Korea by getting a cell phone. I was texting away in less than five minutes. Just like my rusty voice, my Korean culture has recovered after six plus months away from the singing rooms, and the country.