Some may remember a time months prior to me leaving the States when I said I would start a blog, and, well, here it is. Only 3 or 4 weeks after the stuff I'll be talking about! So let's get to it.
Day 1: I finish packing, oh, about 10 minutes before I have to leave for the airport. I have to leave behind some unwatched movies and unbeaten video games (it still kills me that I never finished Metal Gear Solid 3) but most of the important stuff has been taken care of. At the top of the list, Receive Awesome Going-Away Party: check fucking double plus.
At the airport I just drink beer in a bar while waiting for my flight, too wary of the dead-behind-the-eyes bartender to consider asking for a cocktail. I also exchange 700 dollars in cash for Korean Won, which I later find out is a stupid thing to do in airports because of the shitty rate they give me and I'm basically a stupid person. On the airplane I mull over (what I hope is) the secret dream of every solo passenger: whether the person sitting next to me will be a cute member of the opposite sex, and if we'll have dirty rabbit sex in the tiny bathroom at 10,000 feet. My seating companion turns out to be a guy, and pulls out a book on God and faith. A tough nut to crack for sure, so I let the dream die yet again.
My school had emailed me a 60 page information packet on their curriculum that I was supposed to study on the flight, but fuck that noise and instead I watch 3 movies and fall asleep. The movies were Moon, The Boat that Rocked, and Management. I still don't think I've ever read that whole packet.
Anyways, the plane lands, and my instructions say to take a bus to some other terminal, and to avoid guys who'll try to talk you into their taxis. Well, me being such a rebel, I let a guy talk me into his taxi and give me a ride to the other terminal that ends up costing in the realm of 160 bucks. Yeah, I'm punk. At this new terminal I'm supposed to look for a van, but I don't see any cars and it takes me an embarrassing 20 minutes or so to realize the cars park on the level above me. I go up, but still don't see the right van, so I try calling my recruitment contact only to realize that my phone card doesn't work, and I have no change for the phone. Awesome. I talk (mime) a night worker into letting me use a desk phone, and my contact says the van should be here. It isn't. Triple awesome! Well, after awkwardly sitting next to a middle aged couple on a bench for awhile that dang old van eventually shows up, and takes me to my digs for the week of training: a love hotel in the middle of Seoul.
I was devastated to discover that my bed was not heart-shaped, nor was there a mirror in the ceiling.
There was, however, a jacuzzi bathtub, which unfortunately made way too much noise when you turned the jets on (of course I fucking tried it out).
Korea also has the crazy super toilets. I would grow to greatly appreciate the bidet function, only to miss it terribly in my actual apartment with a lame non-fancy toilet.
Guess whose hotel room has the spice channel?! Fact: a girl in my training group said her room got 3 different spice channels. In a jealous rage I called her a liar and then killed her.
On the next episode of Dragonball Z: I go out on the town, find and then get rid of a cell phone, and meet the least persistent pimp ever!
