Mission

“These are the voyages of the traveler Steven. Its five-year mission: to explore the strange world, to seek out life and civilizations, to boldly go where few men have gone before.”

When I set out to see the world, my goal was to check off a bunch of boxes. I set some goals, got a full-time job, added some more goals, learned that taking 50 vacation days a year was not considered acceptable, figured out how to incorporate all of the goals I set, and had at it. My goal was never to explore new cultures, yet that is what these voyages have become. I have started to understand foreign cultures, but I have learned one fundamental truth. Human beings are, for the most part, the same.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

The Orient - Days 8, 8B - "Seoul 1988" and "The Return Journey"



1/3/16, “Seoul 1988”

Incheon International Airport, Korea (ICN)
                                                                              
Success!!!  A hundred percent success!  It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always pretty, but today has undoubtedly been a success.  I did everything I set out to do, and now I am here where I began this trip, in the very spot where I wrote my Day 1 entry a week ago, though it seems a lifetime ago.  I am exhausted, and I can’t wait to get home, but first, I have just under an hour to recount my adventures from today and publish before I need to board.

While my smoking of the 2014 Christmas pipe a year ago in Buenos Aires was morose, tonight it is triumphant.  This is, at last, the triumphant airport of the entry.  I will do reflections and The Return Journey in a separate entry when I got home, maybe partially en route.  Today is about Seoul 1988.  I woke up and asked at the front desk if they could arrange for an English-driver for the day, just someone to take me around and stay with me and take me to the airport.  They seemed baffled by the request, but they figured it out in the end.  The price would be reasonable enough.  I did some packing and went down to breakfast, which was so disappointing it is not even worth recounting, but I got my nourishment and caffeine.

I was then ready to head to the Olympic Stadium.  I braced myself for disappointment, assuming I would not be able to get inside.  I got to the complex in short time and was excited enough to see the Rings on the front of the building and told myself, “I just want to get inside, preferably without getting arrested,” emphasizing that last part.  It was a risk I was willing to take.  Around 10 AM, I got to the front entrance and saw that I could see the inside of the Stadium through the gate.  Hmm, that would count for sure, but I wanted to do better.  I took some pictures and kept going, determined to find a way to get inside.

“There’s always a way,” I told myself, recounting St. Louis and Paris and Tokyo and Stockholm.  I found a way, well, it was inside the stadium, but it was just the offices.  That wouldn’t do.  I couldn’t see the field.  I tried every door.  I spent almost half an hour doing this, walking through dark passages, resigning myself to failure.  Eventually I found someone in the cleaning staff office.  I asked if he’d let me onto the field.

He shocked me by doing it.  I was soon on the field.  I literally kneeled down and kissed the track.  I was home.  It was the first Games of my lifetime, though I did not remember it.  There was a construction crew on the opposite side.  Would they kick me out?  I was ecstatic, and I took my ceremonial pictures with a look of sheer elation on my face.  I walked the track, and the construction crew asked where I was from.  I told him New York.  I finished my lap and went to the torch.  I then found a spot to sit and went to light up my cigar and post my photos.

I also noticed that there had been a much easier way inside, which I would have discovered had I kept walking around.  It didn’t matter.  I had made it inside.  Nothing else mattered.  I was home.  That was all that mattered.  I lit up the Romeo y Julieta I had brought, and that was when I was told it was time to leave.





I made my way back to the hotel, calling my co-worker as I walked, regaling him with the story, which he absolutely loved.  My driver was waiting for me at the hotel, so I went to the room to finish packing and produced a little Gangnam Style video for Snapchat.  Our first stop was the National Assembly Building, and I took my ceremonial pictures there.



Next we went to the shopping area called Insadong, which had plenty of souvenir shops and street food stands.  I got plenty of souvenirs (including flag pins) and lots of food (including sweet and sour chicken).  Then it was time for the three WHS in Seoul.





The first one was called Jungmyo Shrine, the oldest Confucian Shrine in the world, dating to the 14th Century.  The only way to see it was a tour that lasted an hour.  I had no interest in that, but I had no choice.  I figured I’d ditch the group once we got to the inscription photo.  That was after about half an hour.  Okay, fine.  I lit up my Montecristo and took some ceremonial pictures before making a run for it.  I was set and headed back to the taxi.

Next was Cheongdeoksang Palce, dating from the 16th Century I believe.  I just wanted one picture at the iconic building.  Oh, did I mention that smoking was banned at all these sites?  I still had plenty of cigar left from the first site.  I found the iconic palace, relit the cigar, and took my ceremonial pictures.  I kept going.  I was then accosted, and I mean that literally, by a very angry security worker.  He used physical force to grab my arm in attempt to take away my cigar.  I told him I was leaving.  He said he was going to call the police and have me arrested.  Would they really arrest someone for smoking a cigar outside?  I didn’t want to find out.  I walked out as quickly as I could, him following me.  When I left, it was made very clear I was banned from the site.  I got back in the car, posted my photo, and we then went to our last site.

This was one of the Joeson Dynasty Royal Tombs.  It was called Jeongneung and belonged to Queen Sindeok.  I put out my cigar before walking in, as I had been doing, relit it for my ceremonial picture and left.  I was messaging with the new friend I had made at my brother’s wedding.  We pretty much messaged nonstop for about two hours from the time I took my ceremonial picture at the tomb until I got to the airport.  It was shocking how these societies (she had just gotten back from Southeast Asia) with such a high smoking rate ban smoking in so many places.  It was the same where she went in Cambodia and Thailand.  We talked about our future trips, as well.

Before long, I was at the airport, and it was packed.  All the lines were long, which was cutting into the time I had allocated for this entry and my pipe.  After the lines for check-in, security, and border control, I headed to Duty-Free, where used the rest of my Won to get some liquor and cigars.  I then headed to the smoking lounge, the very same smoking lounge from my first entry and went to that very first seat, where I lit up my 2014 Christmas pipe and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and finish my pipe before we board.  It’s been a great trip, but I can’t wait to get home.  As mentioned, I’ll save the reflections for the Return Journey entry.


1/3/16 (Version B), “The Return Journey”

New York, New York


Typically there is not much to report between the time I arrive at the departure airport and the time I arrive at home or work, but it has been 19 hours since I arrived at ICN, and I only spent 8 of them sleeping, so obviously stuff happened during those 11 hours.  I pretty much recounted the time until I got to the smoking lounge, which was boring, almost entirely spent waiting in lines.  At check-in, they said they only had middle seats available.  No, no, no, that wouldn’t do.  What was the best seat they could give me?  She made a few calls.  She said there was a four-seater with both middle seats opened.  She could give me one of those seats and block off the other seat.  Perf.

I went to publish my entry for Day 8, but the Wi-Fi wasn’t connecting right, and I couldn’t get it published.  I then decided I’d have to publish it as a double entry.  I say double entry and not a two-part entry, since, as the dateline hints, this is technically Version B of 1/3/16.  I have technically already woke up on 1/4/16, so I am technically reliving 1/3/16.

I checked the in-flight movie selection.  Star Wars.  All six episodes of Star Wars!  ALL FUCKING SIX EPISODES OF STAR WARS!!!  Perf.  If I wanted, I could have marathoned the entire saga over the course of the flight.  I considered it.  The person next to me actually did exactly that.  I was too tired.  I figured I’d watch one, either Episode I, IV (the original) or VI.  I had the two middle seats to myself, which was perf, too.

I soon fell asleep, waking up for dinner, which was disappointing, but it was food.  I chose Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, since I had fallen asleep during my last viewing of it.  Growing up, that was always my favorite, since Luke was always my favorite character, and this is when he finally starts to show his true powers.  The sequence on the sail barge was always one of my favorite fights from the whole trilogy.  We also see the Rebellion’s Navy in fully force for the first time, and it is the first major space battle of the whole trilogy.  Actually, other than the one at the beginning of Revenge of the Sith, it is the only major space battle we see, as in, capital ships fighting against each other, rather than a dogfight between starfighters.  I watched up until Luke slices the speeder in half with his lightsaber, since that is the last time he uses his lightsaber until his fight with Vader at the end.  I figured that was a good stopping point.

I went back to sleep, waking up in time for breakfast, finishing the movie at that point.  As always, I cried uncontrollably at the end.  No movie makes me cry than the last scene of Return of the Jedi, the whole victory celebration on the Forest Moon of Endor.  It has no dialogue, but it says more in it than any other scene.  I didn’t have enough time to write an entry, but my watch said it was around 6 AM on 1/4/16, and they had just served breakfast.  When we landed, I would set my watch back (still need to do that), and it would be 1/3/16 again.  When we landed, I got caught up on my messages and notifications.

I went to get my bags.  One was missing.  The least important one the Korean whiskey I had gotten from Duty-Free.  The other souvenirs were irreplaceable.  This was much more easily replaced.  I told a flight attendant.  They said to ask again when I got to baggage claim if someone had found it.  Otherwise, I could reimbursed for the loss.  This made me the last one off the plane, but, with Global Entry, I didn’t care.  I’d still be at the baggage claim long before my bag.  As I was walking down the carousel, I heard someone shouting for me and chasing me down.  He had found my bag.  It was moved a few rows up, for space I presume.

I eased through Global Entry and waited a long time for my bag.  I cleared Customs as I struggled with my bag.  Then I was home.  I struggled with my bags and took a taxi to my apartment.  I was going to go to CPK for dinner, but first I needed to drop off my laundry.  I didn’t even bother to unpack, just changed into my Great Wall t-shirt and casual pants.  I dropped off the laundry and headed to CPK, but they had already closed.  I decided I would just have a little snack from my leftover cakes and get dinner at the theatre.  Oh, right, I’m going to see a movie at 11:30 PM, The Big Short.  I went back to my apartment, where I sat in my chair, put on the Christmas Music, lit up my 2015 Christmas Pipe, and proceeded to write this entry.

I can now move on to the reflections.  As always, any comments I make about the local culture is meant as an observation, not a judgment.  The first and most obvious thing, besides what I mentioned earlier about the language barrier, is the roles of men and women in society.  In every way, the women seemed subservient to the men.

The men seemed smarter (or at least more educated).  In America, Asians are considered to be very intelligent.  A week in the Orient provided me with an alternate explanation for that.  The Asian people that migrate to America are, for the most part, the smartest ones.  That results in an exodus of the mind from Asian society.  Let’s just say that anyone who has the money and brains to immigrate to America and get into a good college is not going to be driving a taxi or working the front desk of a hotel in Asia.  There is an old joke that goes something like this.  A New Zealand MP was asked about New Zealanders immigrating to Australia.  He said it would raise the IQ of both countries, implying that only the least intelligent New Zealanders would move to Australia, yet they are still smarter than the average Australian.

The reverence they pay to their temples and shrines perhaps I did not fully understand and somewhat disrespected by smoking in front of them.  As a whole, the trip was very enlightening, but it was not an enjoyable trip for the most part.  Many parts were enjoyable, but it was too exhausting, and I think I planned it wrong, or perhaps there was no good way to do what I wanted to do in such a short time.

On paper, it was amazing, 3 new countries (plus 2 additional autonomous regions), 9 World Heritage Sites, a New Wonder of the World, great food, and New Year’s Eve in Hong Kong.  Maybe as the exhaustion factor fades in memory, I will remember it more fondly, but, even of the New Year’s trips from the past 4 years, this only ranks 3rd.  I’m not even sure it would make the Top 20 overall.  That said, I’m glad I did it.  I’ve been planning it for over 2 years, and it worked out perfectly.

Next year in Australia will be even more epic, and it will be at a much slower pace, too.  If that trip doesn’t crack the Top 5, I’ll be shocked.  I have broken in my new 2015 Christmas Pipe, and I am looking forward to building some new memories with it this winter and in the years to come.  On that note, I will close, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: Cancun to finally meet Robert and do our epic Yucatan WHS crawl over MLK weekend.

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