The trip to Osaka (or the Visa trip from hell)

To make our trip to Japan more relaxing, we decided to break the trip up – travel to Seoul on Sunday, spend the day there, then fly to Osaka Monday morning, nice and relaxed. Isn’t there some quote about even the best laid plans . . . .???? The flight to Seoul was relatively uneventful. We boarded the plane for the 35 minute flight, had the longest taxi period I’ve ever experienced (the teacher sitting next to me on the plane at one point asked if we were driving to Seoul), went up, came down, and we were in the capital city. One of the reasons we decided to spend a day in Seoul was that the head teacher, Ted, had lived there for a year and a half and told us he would show us where to go, the fun places to hang out, etc. From the airport we caught a bus to COEX, a large department store/mall area/hotel owned by Samsung. Picture this: Ted and Glenn disappear, saying they’re going to look for a hotel room, Mr. Pyong meets some business associates from Seoul, Chanta, Rob, and I are waiting for Ted and Glenn to return, so Mr. Pyong and friends take pity on us and take us to Popeye’s for dinner. Hot chocolate and fried chicken. Ted and Glenn return much later, hotel rooms secured. So then Ted goes to meet friends in Seoul (read: ditches us), Glenn takes us the most roundabout way back to the hotel – through underground tunnels, turning down alleys, crossing major roads. Chanta and I are trying to mark every landmark so that we can find our way out later that night. We get to the hotel, Chanta and I decide to share a room, we drop our overnight bags off, then decide to head out and explore. Rob wants to come with us. We head back over to COEX. As we’re leaving our hotel, I say, “Isn’t that COEX right there? Next to the really tall building?” We were 3 blocks away. Straight shot. Once there, Rob suggests going to another part of town that is supposed to be really hip and happening. It’s three subway transfers away, but he does a good job convincing us – we’re in a new city, let’s explore. What he fails to mention is that it’s the red light district. We have dinner at a yummy Thai restaurant then hit the streets. It’s Sunday night, so there isn’t a lot going on. We stop at the first bar, the Rock N Roll cafe. Second floor of the building, dark corners, bright neon signs in the window, smoky. As we enter, the female bartender says in perfect Engligh (no accent whatsoever, which is unusual), “Come in, perhaps you would like the table by the balcony?” and points to the booth in the corner, overlooking the window. Great – we head on over. As we sit down, we take in the scene around us. A couple is playing pool, a man and a woman. Man in business suit, getting his ass kicked by the woman. He appears surprised to see us and occasionally turns to Chanta and I and makes flirtatious comments in English. His partner is pulling off shots that seem physically impossible. And doing it while wearing a tight dalmatian fur tank top, tight black mini skirt with rhinestones, and stillettos that won’t stop. Many women sitting at the bar, dressed to the nines. Another American in a booth with a Korean woman, with their backs towards us. At one point it appears her head is in his lap. And there are whifs of a familiar odor that arise suddenly. Baby powder? After a drink or two Chanta turns to me and says, “We’re in a hooker bar.” Suddenly everything makes sense. Men (mostly American) were coming in, buying a woman at the bar a drink, then leaving together. The pool shark was an employee of the bar. We were the only female clients in the bar. No wonder we were getting funny looks. We turn to Rob, “We’re outta here – you can stay if you want or come with us.” He came with us.

So on to our next stop of the evening. We had heard about a reggae dance club, thought it would be fun to check out. No such luck. Couldn’t find it. So we are walking the streets, looking for fun on a Sunday evening in Seoul. This could be the start of a song. We see bright red neon signs for the “Twilight Zone.” Seems appropriate. We enter. Again, mostly females, but this time they are all blond. And not Korean. The waitress (straight out of the 80’s – Tammy Faye makeup and some serious height on the dyed hair) brings us a menu. It’s all in Russian. Yes, Russian. I decide to try the lemon soju. Even more dangerous than regular soju because it is so sweet it tastes like liquid candy. After listening to several renditions of Russian pop music, we decide it’s probably time to head back to our hotel.

Upon entering the hotel room (shoes off) Chanta and I start dancing. Literally. The floor is so hot we can barely stand it. We jump to the bed, but can’t find any room temperature controls. We get ready for bed; I’m ready first. I crawl back into bed and lay down. Ouch. The pillow resembles a puching bag. Really. That’s how hard it is. To test it out, I punch it. Thud! Chanta is in the bathroom, hears the thud, and asks what the noise was. I tell her our pillows. She comes into the bedroom, looking perplexed. She touches the pillow and exclaims, “Oh, my god. You’re telling the truth. What is in this, anyway?” Don’t know, but our heads did not move all night.

5 am – Monday morning, we get our wake up call. Which we had requested for 6 am. We decide to sleep a bit more, but know we have a flight, so we’re drifting in and out of sleep. Chanta gets up, turns the shower (hand held) on in the bathroom, comes back to bed. I ask her what she’s doing. “Just wait, you’ll see.” Smart girl. We had a true shower that morning. She let the water run until it got hot, so the bathroom got nice and steamy. So even once we turned the water off, we were still warm. What a great way to start the morning. Ahhh, it’s the simple pleasures . . .

Back to COEX – where there was an airline check-in area. Chanta and I check in, go upstairs to clear immigration. Ted and Glenn are already there. They’ve booked seats on the 8 am bus to the airport (we’re about an hour away – our flight is at 10). We go to book seats on the same bus, it’s full. All buses are full until 8:25. No worries – we’re checked in, we’ll just take that bus. Rob arrives; they won’t let him check in at COEX. Evidentally the check-in closes 2 1/2 hours before the flight; Chanta and I were the last ones to check in on our flight. Ted and Glenn leave on the bus to the airport. Rob is panicked. He doesn’t think he’ll make it to the airport in time to check in if he takes the 8:25 bus. So we get a refund for our bus tickets and get a taxi to the airport. Weaving through Seoul morning traffic, a gray, dismal day. Small snow flurries, lots of slush on the ground. And winds. Gusty, blustery winds. Each time we pass over a bridge, the winds seem to pick up.

We make it to the airport, Incheon. Chanta and I leave Rob at the check-in counter. We see a sign that says “Special – City Terminal passengers only”. It’s like magic. We pass through, avoid all the lines, clear immigration in no time. We arrive at our gate, but don’t see Ted or Glenn there. And Ted has all of our paperwork for our visas. He thought it would be better if he kept it all together. They start boarding. Still no boys. Chanta and I look at each other. Do we board the plane? Even though it’s pointless for us to go to Japan without our paperwork? As the gate crew is making the final boarding call, Ted and Glen stroll up. They had been buying cigarettes and liquor at the duty free. But still no Rob. We get on the plane, settle in. Right before take-off, Rob comes barrelling down the aisle. Whew. We’re all on the plane.

This is what I remember of Japan. Long lines at immigration. Catching a bus to travel over an hour to the Korean consulate. Photo booths to take passport photos. Dropping off our passports. Drizzly rain. Cold, but not as cold as Korea. Eating at the first place we saw – which happened to be an American restaurant with a picture menu. Macaroni and cheese with shrimp in it. Rushing back to the consulate. Getting our passports, running to the bus terminal to catch the bus back to the airport. Trying to use up all of our yen coins in the airport. Buying strawberry frosted Koala animal crackers. Comparing the different koalas with Chanta was the most fun, the least stress, of the day. The flight back to Seoul. Served spam and cheese sandwiches for dinner on the plane. Why do other countries love spam?

The Seoul airport. The third time I’ve been there in 36 hours. (Daegu to Seoul, Seoul to Osaka, Osaka to Seoul) It’s 9 pm and I’m exhausted. I’m so glad we’re being picked up by one of the Mr. Kims and being driven home. It should only take 3 hours to get home. 9:15 pm. Still no Mr. Kim. No problem, I buy a paper and start doing the crossword puzzle. 9:40. I finish the crossword, start the Jumble. Ted makes a couple of phone calls. “Mr. Kim left Daegu at 3 pm; he should be there any minute now.” At 10 pm we find each other. Evidently there has been snow and ice and the roads are bad. So we’re looking at a 7 hour trip back????? “Oh, no, I think the roads are much better now.” I think he was just saying that to get us into the van.

The trip home. The driver, well, let’s say, he was somewhat directionally challenged. Not a good trait for a driver. We had been driving for an hour, going through tolls, doing u-turns (not usually a good sign), driving, driving, driving. I look out the window and see the sign “Welcome to Incheon Airport.” We haven’t made any ground at all! We’re right back where we started from. Chanta and I noticed that everytime we went through a toll stop, the driver would ask the toll taker for directions. At this point, we are punchy. We’ve had no sleep, we just want to be home. So we do what any normal former girl scout would do. We start singing camp songs. Or, in this case, road songs. Gone awry. First we butchered sitcom theme songs: “Here’s a story, of the Kate School teachers, who were trying very hard to make it home. There were 5 of them, all together, they were on their own. Till the one day when they flew to Incheon airport, and they knew it was much more than a hunch, . . .” “Now listen very carefully, to these plans gone awry, Kate school teachers set out one day for a three hour tour . . . a three hour tour. . .” We were singing almost in whispers because the guys were trying to sleep. But after each song we would burst into a fit of giggles. After we exhausted our knowledge of sitcom theme songs (me, from first hand knowledge, Chanta, from Nick at Nite), we moved on to movie scores. “Somewhere, . . . in the country of Korea, we have a home. A very loving home, a very special home, which we’ll never see again.” After depleting our repertoire of movie scores, we moved on to popular songs, “The long and winding road . . . . leads back to the airport. The Incheon airport.” “I try to leave the airport and I cry, I try to leave Seoul and I crumble, can’t you stop for a map? Oh, please do this for me. . . ” Did I also mention, that in addition to being directionally challenged, the driver was tired (he had been driving for almost 10 hours at this point) and his head would occasionally bob, bob, bob, then jerk awake. And the roads were indeed icy. And there were gusty winds. And big semis that would rush past us and almost blow us off the road. In short, we all thought we were going to die.

We arrived to the city limits of Daegu right before 4 am. At which point the driver stopped. He said his leg was tired and he wasn’t driving anymore. What???? We were still almost an hour away from our houses. So Mr. Kim flagged taxis (I can’t imagine why there were any out at that time of the morning) and we continued the journey. I finally got home, got into bed, and was falling asleep close to 4:30/5 am. Knowing I had to be bright and cheery for my students at 9. Ohhhhhhhhh . . . .