What Time Is It Exactly???

And so here I find myself, at 5:45 in the morning of my first full day in Chuncheon, South Korea, awake, yet still in the zombie-esque trance that hit me as we crossed the International Date-Line, 8 hours into my flight yesterday. I made the best of twelve-hours in a tube, elbow-t0-elbow with a heavily drunk Frenchmen, by tearing through three magazines, in order to fully catch up with the latest installment of the Iranian Revolution, sitting through three of the worst movies I’ve seen in recent memory, (“Valkyrie,” Tom Cruise you’re just waaaay to overbearing, “The International,” Clive Owen you’re just not believable, and “He’s Just Not That Into You,” but who could fault me at that point, I just needed pictures to look at and this was a better choice than Steve Martin’s cinematic suicide he calls “The Pink Panther”) listening to some of my current favorite albums, (The Band – Music From Big Pink, Andrew Bird – Armchair Apocrypha, Phish – Fukuoko, Japan – 6.14.2000, Broken Social Scene – Feel Good Lost and the newest release from Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest) I was really going for the mellow approach with music in hopes of inspiring the sleep which never came. I think my eyes stayed shut for a grand total of 20 minutes while on board.

Upon arrival in Korea, I became a public display in the Medical Quarantine area because, well first of all, I was the most obvious foreigner, and secondly, I, probably mistakenly at this point, marked down on the Health Department sheet that I had experienced a “stuffy / runny nose in the last 24 hours.” I had sneezed three times on the flight in and was being reminded on the sheet that I could face up to 5 years imprisonment if I lied about any information on my Medical Quarantine sheet. Further, as I looked around at my co-travelers, 90% covered their mouths and noses in facemaks, leading me to believe that even the common cold is not simply looked upon as a cheap sick day in this country. None-the-less, I was pulled aside by two youthful doctors/nurses/Professional Cavity Searchers, and basically given a full physical in front of the entire known population of Korea at that point.

I then proceeded to be sent to a Weopanry Claimings Zone because I had packed a small pocket knife for the camping trips I fully expect to take over the next year. After being asked upwards of 20 times what my purpose was in Korea, (for some reason I don’t think they liked the correlation of education and knife-wielder very much) I was on my way with smiles from the youthful Korean Guards, who informed me of where I could purchase a much bigger knife, in case I still wanted on.

I then met Mr. Choo, the associate from my school, who greeted me with a sign bearing my name: Brian R. Brinkman….A short digression:

In the fall of 2006 I decided to begin including the letter “R”, my middle initial, in my signature and in the presentation of my name in any official sense. (Essays, Blue Book Exams, Checks, Online Order Forms) I belived at the time, that this would help to give me an ere of professionalism, so that no matter the quality of my essays and exams in college, my professors would see the letter “R” slicing through the middle of my blocky, yet simple German name, and suddenly view me as an intellectual. (Shallow you say? Quite, but we all gotta make our way ahead in this world) On the plus side, my GPA rose from the depths of hell to a respectable mid-3 range, I was accepted into a study abroad program, and was hired as a TA.

However, in a cruel twist, it seemed to me that everyone refused to address me with the letter “R” between my name. It was as if it just didn’t exist. Professors glazed over it as though I were still just a simple-minded mid-westerner, my advisor at my study abroad program, didn’t seem to notice or care that I even had a middle initial, when my name was called at college graduation, no matter how hard I tried to emphasize the “R”, I was still announced as just, Brian Brinkman, even the woman at the DMV, when I went in last fall to replace my plates, called me up to the counter as Brian Brinkman when I had clearly put my middle initial on every line where my name was required. It was as if the whole world was against my desire to appear grown-up and professional.

That is, until I reached South Korea.

In my state of flux, thanks to a flight to tomorrow, and little to no sleep, I stepped out into the arrivals area of the Incheon International Airport, weighed down and stumbling about my over-sized luggage, and was greeted with a sign bearing the name: Brian R. Brinkman. I stopped and smiled to myself, and proceeded forward to greet my new co-worker. Mr. Choo, an associate at the school, is a quiet, unassuming man who fulfills all of my stereotypes about hard-working, no-nonsense folks I had of the Asians before I arrived. Where I was excited to be in South Korea, pointing out the mountains that rose in the mist out towards the Chinese sea, the colors of Seoul and the beauty of my first sunset in the Far East, Mr. Choo was much less out-going. Providing me with quick answers, he informed me that I would be starting my job training today, and will probably begin work on Monday. In his words, “It is only necessary for you to train for one hour.” Boy,do I love foriegn countries.

The drive through Seoul was slow and mired by a traffic jam that rivals only Istanbul and rush-hour on 290, but as we made our way out of the capital, we began a winding drive through the mountains and small towns of Northern South Korea. We arrived in Chuncheon around 9:45pm (thats 7:45am for all you Chicago folk) and I was happily greeted by my new home. From what I saw, it is quite small, apparently I can get across it on a bike in 20-30 min, yet it is lively! Bars and restaurants line the streets and at first thought, it reminds me of my wonderful stays in Utrech, Holland and Antwerp, Belgium. We drove past my apartment and my school, (just down the street from each other) and arrived at the Korean equivilant of a Motel 6. Without bothering to check-in, Mr. Choo brought me to my room, that greeted me with a warm red light that made one feel as though they had stepped into either a dark room, or off the beaten path of the Red Light District. I crashed hard and awoke at 4:30am, which seeing as its 2:30pm in Chicago, only tells me that my body is going to take quite some time to get adjusted here.

Today, I plan on meeting with my bosses and co-workers at school around 12:30, begin my training, and if I have the opportunity, explore a bit of the city. I have no idea what is in store for me, all I know is that this is right, and I’m excited as hell to get going with my work and my life here. Until next time….

A fitting quote from Ryszard Kapuscinski’s Travels With Herodotus:

“I was tempted to see what lay beyond, on the other side, I wondered what one experiences when one crosses the border. What does one feel? What does one think? It must be a moment of great emotion, agitation, tension. What is it like, on the other side? It must certainly be – different. But what does “different” mean? What does it look like? What does it resemble? Maybe it resembles nothing that I know, and thus is inconcievable, unimaginable? And so my greatest desire, which gave me no peace, which tormented me and tantalized me, was actually quite modest: I wanted one thing only – the moment, the act, the simple fact of crossing the border.”