Solo Trip

Classes have started. My first week is now under my belt and while everyday seems to be an up and down rollercoaster of good classes and not necessarily good classes, my emotional state is in a constant downward funk. I am starting to feel trapped and constantly surrounded by people. I like who I work with, but there is a part of me that needs to feel independence. I'm going to the same places so exploration is at a standstill and I'm not taking charge of what I want and need to do to get me back to feeling like me.

Enough! My apartment doesn't even feel like me. So it's time to start rearranging. The first day in Seoul, Meghan and Amanda took Kelly and I to Insadong to walk around. I remembered seeing things that I really liked and decide that after work I'm heading down there on my own.

I get directions from Meghan and head to Balsan station. The subway is quiet for the most part so I put on my headphones and listen to some music. A little bit of Greensky, the Ragbirds, Rilo Kiley, and the cast from Glee help set the tone for the evening. Station Jongno 3 approaches and I get off the subway and look for the correct exit. Insadong - exit 5. Hooray!

Heading up the stairs I realize that at this point I'm more than likely going to need to ask someone for directions. I'm not afraid. This is good. I reach the top of the stairs and notice 2 foreigners. Perhaps they're looking for the same place I am. I ask. "Are you looking for Insadong?" Yes. Or should I say oui. They're French. They mumble something and I start to walk with them. Then I realize they don't know where they're going and they are trying to ignore me. This is why I didn't go to France when I was in Europe. Not all French people are mean but some of them can be very rude!

I see a woman standing behind a counter and say in my best Korean accent (or lack thereof) - "Insadong?" She points in the direction I just came from and says nothing. Lovely. So I walk back the other way passing the 2 French women and say politely, "Insadong is this way." They start to walk with me. I ask them twice if they are visiting or if they live here and they completely ignore me. How rude!

I begin to set my own pace and head for a dark underpass. It looks a bit sketchy so I look for someone to confirm that I'm heading in the correct direction. An old taxi cab driver is wiping his sweaty forehead after fixing his flat tire. He looks harmless so I ask "Insadong?" He smiles and starts making huge gestures like a referee at a football game and screams "STRAIGHT! STRAIGHT!" Why do we always talk louder, almost screaming, when we're talking to someone who does not speak our own language? It's almost as if we believe that yelling increases the other person's comprehension of the foreign mumbo jumbo falling from our lips. Regardless, I am propelled forward in the correct direction, or so I think.

I cross the road, come out of the dark tunnel and I have made it to Insadong! The shops are more than likely a tourist trap, but some of the items are beautiful and I feel like I'm in Saugatuck or South Haven back home - minus the water. Lots of tiny shops blanket the mostly pedestrian road and street vendors want nothing more than to sell you everything they have.

I must remember my mission to find things to decorate the apartment! Oh but that would be so cute on my niece! My mom would like this! Focus Mb focus! I purchase a pack of postcards. I wander some more and find this artist's shop that doesn't even have a real door - you have to walk through plastic - like the kind of plastic you would see covering an entry to the back part at a meat market. This is my kind of shop. Tiny, with a cute old man who is painting away. I purchase my first wall decoration and am I excited! The man smiles and in broken English tells me he is the painter of the piece I have chosen. That's what I like to hear!

I continue on to a few more stores and also purchase a paper lamp that is gorgeous. I just wonder how I will be able to get it back to the States someday, but for now, it doesn't matter.

The sky is growing darker and my stomach is starting to make alien noises. It's time to head home and eat some dinner. I pass a coffee shop and decide to get a latte for the ride home. So now I'm carrying my work bag, big shopping bag and a latte. I enter the Subway and board the train. With no open hands I sit down and am a bit uncomfortable. The man next to me taps my arm and points up. There's a luggage rack above. Cool. With my hands full I'm a bit crabobbled so I ask if he'll hold my coffee. He takes it with a bit of a giggle and I unload my stuff on the luggage rack.

The car of the train is particularly loud and my new friend does not like this at all. He says, "It's too loud. No talking on the train!" We chit chat for a bit about where he lives and where I'm from and his English seems to be at an intermediate level. He says he usually falls asleep on the train because it takes so long for him to get home. A lot of people fall asleep - sometimes you'll see a whole bench full of people sleeping. My transfer stop approaches, I say good bye to my new friend, and board the number 9 train me home. With my headphones in my ears, the sound of DeBussy's Claire de Lune spreads peace throughout my mind.

I needed to do this on my own. I needed to feel independence and navigate the subway on my own. While hours before my trip I was feeling trapped and in a funk, now I feel free and confident. I can't wait to discover more of this city. I can't wait to make this place my home.