Night Rider

I arrived in Busan last night at around 9pm to find the owner of my school waiting, with his shy but cheerful countenance, ready to lug my ridiculously heavy suitcases to his car. His car was a night rider. The kind of car you would want to take on a long road trip through the night, like those many trips I've experienced from New Jersey to Nova Scotia, and vice versa. Dark on the outside, with dark leather interior on the inside, it had incredibly comfortable seats and chillin' music. Korean slow jams. He had even purchased a bottle of water for me, and placed it in the cupholder beside me. I know I was tired enough that I could easily have slept on a park bench and thought it was the most comfortable bed in the world, but the two hour ride out to Geoje island was lovely. I drifted in and out of sleep and conversation, with flashing headlights, signs I couldn't read, reflective oily bodies of water, and patches of deep darkness as the landscape for my half-shut eyes. Korean drivers have a bit of a reputation for driving like my dad, and this dude was cruising! Sometimes I felt like I was still on the plane... we were definitely flying.

When we arrived at my apartment, the school's director and another Korean teacher were there to meet me. They looked about as tired as I was, it was after 11pm at this point, and I later discovered they had just finished cleaning my apartment after a previous teacher had moved out of it. They were very kind to me, though, and had left some household items, including fruit, bread, cereal, milk and coffee, some clean hand towels, and a new pillow on my bed.

My poor feet. I wish I had taken a picture to show you. This is where the true Princess Fiona as an ogre comes out. They were all swollen and puffy and red, uncomfortably wedged in my polka dot flats. I did get up, walk around and stretch numerous times on the 14-hour long flight from New York to Seoul, but nonetheless, my feet were hideous. Happy to be home.

After everyone had left, I opened my suitcase to find that one of the carefully packed packages of fairly-traded Mexican Morning coffee had busted open all over the contents of my suitcase, leaving coffee grounds in my shoes, in every layer of clothing, and even in between some of the photographs I had brought. Oh dear. My apartment was heavily perfumed with the scent of coffee, which is usually a smell I associate with waking up in the morning, but I was so ready to sleep. I found my bedsheets, which thankfully had been vacuum-packed in plastic and were free of coffee grounds, made my bed, and got into it. Some messes are better dealt with in the morning!