So decided that today was the day I was gonna figure out how to go somewhere- anywhere sans brevity and ease of taxi cabs (expense as well) and go see something besides the minor urban route to my school and back (which after some trial and failure can do without worry). So with the little Korean I had my fellow teacher jot down on a yellow post-it note (which translated only into "suncheon bay" which if pronounced says Suncheon Man- which was also funny to me because I was approaching friendly-appearing Koreans saying "Odis mika Suncheon Man" - which to me meant "where can I find a Suncheon Man" ).... I arrived at the bus station and stared bewilderingly at the giant bus schedule in front of me. After good while of studying, began to laugh a full belly laugh at how impossible the bazillion characters in front of me were supposed to guide me to where I was supposed to go. Thankfully my phone rang. It was another teacher from my school with impeccable timing. She has been described to me as the person who knows how to get around Korea in English. She is Korean-American or should I say American-Korean for when I inquired about her it was mentioned to me that I was more Korean than she was. (reminder I am from Ohio and very NOT Korean.) You know, some people have the impression that when in a foreign country that if people do not understand you just speak louder and suddenly the language barrier will disipate? She has been quoted several times yelling "I don't speak KOREAN!" to innocent bystanders. Anyhow, I'm digressing . . . She called and when I explained to her my predicament she informed me that I was standing right in front of the tourism booth in Suncheon. "Just walk in and ask them" and by ask them it means do a great deal of charades, mumble some things in broken Korean and hope for the best. So I did.
"Hello! Very happy to meet you!" said the smiley ole man from behind the counter. I mustered my best greeting in Korean and asked "where is the bus for the Suncheon Man?"
He told me in what I am most sure was very helpful Korean and I shrugged my shoulders in a way that said "I have no idea what you just said." He pulled out another yellow post-it note (post-it's, very big in Korea) and wrote the number 67 down and pointed in a general direction across the street. He said "seventy-six, you go." and then gently pushed me out the door.
So that's the direction I headed, armed with my little post-it note, my little yellow badge of courage, to a strange street on a strange corner in the world . . . . to prove to myself that I, this girl from suburban Ohio, could get somewhere else from work to shoebox in Korea by herself.
I stood on one corner for a bit, looked puzzlingly at the signs surrounding me and waited . . . . . . . for the bus? Finally, a nice Korean gentleman approached me and said what I could only assume was something like " Can I help you figure out where you are trying to go?" I showed him my slip of paper and said again "Odis mika?" He pointed down the street and I had to hope that was the right direction.
I walked down another street and contemplated giving up. . . but no, no as to those that no me enough, I always follow through, and found yet another bus stop. I stood again in front of another coded bus schedule and again hoping for the best. To here I will note that one of the best and worse qualities of the Korean culture is that they, are for lack of better word, curious.
Before I could think the words 'frustration' an older woman tapped me the shoulder and said "sixty seven Sucheon Bay, this your stop!" She even went so far as to shove the other ladies in waiting for bus down the small bench to make room for me at which I could do nothing else but oblige. I suddenly was in the company of five older Korean grandmothers who wanted nothing else but to make sure I got on my bus. We waited. We waited a good long while. We waited so long that I would of left a called it a day, but I was assured with the occasional "you bus coming!" from one of the ladies next to me that I was not defeated. Finally, bus 67 arrived. "Here your bus. Come come!" The women said in unison. They even insisted I get on the bus first. Let us not begrudge the will of our elders!
So there we went slowly: ole ladies, bus, and I winding through parked cars and pedestrians til the urban glowing signs and geometrical architecture transitioned into pointed- earthy tiled roofs and then into the space of Korean country side: rice field after rice field. The sky became wider and the road windier. I saw small workers in straw hats with bent knees deep in mud between rice rows slowly working away at their crops. Bus stops let out at dirt paths to tiny islands of houses separated by shallow ponds of agriculture. I was slowly getting lost into the fresh air and skyline of nothing but mountains and green when I heard a pitching "Hey, Hey! " I turned my head behind me and it was my Korean grandmothers. "You stop next!" "Oh, kamapsamnida" I responded. (thank you.) I got off the bus sure enough there I was at the foot of the remote and beautiful Suncheon Bay.
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