You Can’t Miss It

I hate it when I ask someone directions and they reply with the above phrase. Because obviously, I can miss it. And usually do.

That’s what the English speaking man at the Chinese consulate said to me. “Oh, we’re about 500 meters west of the Paradise Casino. Right beside the Grand Church. You can’t miss it.”

Famous last words.

The day began more or less according to schedule. Up at 6 am. Okay 6:30. Headed to the street to catch a taxi by 7. No taxis in sight. Oh, yeah, this is a night society. I waited patiently. Finally a taxi appeared. At the train station by 7:35. Damn. Just missed the train to Pusan. Next one at 8:05. No problem. It’s only an hour or so trip.

It wasn’t the express train. I deboarded in Pusan at 10:00. Still not worried. The consulate didn’t close til 11:30. I hopped on the subway, bound for the end of the line, Gwangan. Exited the subway at 10:30. Okay, still have an hour. No problem.

Hailed a taxi. Asked him to go to Hay-Un-Dae Beach. To the Chinese embassy. He understood the beach part. Not the embassy part. I got out my phrase book. Embassy. China. Jong-gu. Still no recognition. Okay, okay, okay, Hay-Un-Dae Bee-cheee kajushipsayo. My train of thought was, if I can get to the beach, surely I can find the consulate. How hard can it be? Here’s where the problems begin.

We made it to Hay-Un-Dae without incident. He drove slowly down the main road while I searched for a big Chinese flag. Didn’t see one. We drove until we reached the Paradise Casino. Okay, now I just have to go west and we’ll find it. I didn’t know what way west was. Neither did the taxi driver. Neither did four of the hotel employees I asked (in Korean). I glanced at the clock on the taxi’s dashboard. 10:58 am. Oh.

I asked the hotel employees if they knew where the Grand Church was. They didn’t, but they disappeared with my paper with notes scribbled on it and my phrasebook. They returned what seemed an eternity later. They returned my belongings to me, said something to the taxi driver, and we were off. 11:07 am. Oh.

We backtracked. Took the exact same road we came in on. More than 500 meters. The taxi pulled off to the side of the road, into the parking lot of a huge, shiny blue-green glass office complex. He stopped. I’m about to hyperventilate. I really want to get to the Chinese consulate today. He pointed. The office complex was the Grand Church. I saw a cross way up top. I ran into the lobby and asked where the Chinese consulate was. The elderly man at the information desk smiled. I guess they get this question a lot. He motioned with his arm. Out, to the left, to the left, hop, hop.

I sprinted. And sure enough, there it was. I entered at 11:22 am. I scanned the room. There were lines. And no English. Okay. First thing to do. Form. There’s got to be a form to fill out. There was. I completed as much as I could, then picked a line. I had no idea what the four lines were for – each had a different sign above the plate glass window. I chose the line farthest to the right. Chinese writing is read right to left, maybe that’s how they process lines, too.

There were 3 groups in front of me. Two groups. One. I got to the window at 11:28. Whew. They’re not kicking me out. I handed my form, my passport, my itinerary, and my picture to the lady behind the glass. She smiled as she looked everything over. She nodded, gave me a slip of paper, and told me to come back next week. That’s it? I don’t have to pay? You’re not going to interrogate me? But that really was it.

I exited the consulate as they were locking the doors. This was cutting it a little too close, even for me.