Let’s just get this out of the way. I have COVID.
Seoul is a city of 9.9 million people, so yes, I wore masks like it was 2020. Not those flimsy blue ones you get at the doctor’s office. Not the cloth Everlane ones I wore throughout the pandemic. I wore the official-sounding kind of mask with letters and numbers that tell people, “I am serious about public health.” I wore them on buses. On subways. On the airplane. On the bullet train. In crowded stores. And in crowds outside.
I still got the virus.
That’s just the way it goes sometimes.
I’m not gonna lie. It sucks. I had an itinerary, and it’s pretty much shot. There will be no ascent to the top of Mount Hallasan because I’m not well enough to do that safely. And a handful of other things have been crossed off the list because I’m self-quarantining. Even though there are no mandates in Korea, I am doing what is right for my travel companions and for public health. I realize other people do other things, and I respect it. This feels right for me.
Now, this is not a boo-hoo post. Boo-hoo posts are so 2023. I am making the best of it. I am rebounding quickly, thanks to all the potions I brought, just in case something like this happened. I went for a hike this morning and felt almost normal energy-wise. Then I threw up because I forgot you shouldn’t eat ibuprofen on an empty stomach. Oh well.
Mentally, I am making lemonade—or “tangerine-ade” since I am writing this while stationed on Jeju Island for a week. Tangerines are the official fruit of Jeju, and just this afternoon, I sped by an honest-to-goodness tangerine grove on my way to see a waterfall in the pouring rain.
Did I mention it’s torrential out there, and there’s a flood alert? As I type this post, the kind of storm the government sends PSAs directly to your phone about is raging outside. You should hear the wind going right now. It’s quite something!
An ordinary person might want to crawl under the covers with all this bad news and watch a movie marathon. I am an ordinary person. A few days ago, while still in Daegu, I watched all seven Harry Potter movies while the rest of my people headed off to see a Unesco World Heritage site … “the most beautiful temple in Korea.” As of a few days ago, I am still questioning the Harry and Ginny Weasley pairing.
Originally, I rented a lovely house within a few minutes walk to the most impossibly beautiful beach. I am now staying solo at a quirky but run-down resort on a cliff. Expedia is a liar … “resort and spa” my ass! A Fellini movie could be filmed here with its oddly organized white stucco buildings and a blue-tiled pool that sits empty and dangerous. It’s too sad to take pictures of, so I don’t have evidence of how strange this place is. I am quite certain a dancing bear will appear in my room at 2:00 am.
Where am I going with this post?
Oh right. Tangerine-ade.
The day before I left for Korea, I decided to get my International Driver’s license. Someone else in our party rented an SUV, so I didn’t really need to, but I always like being prepared. And guess what? Since I am now traveling solo for a bit, I went ahead and rented a zippy white Kia sedan. This afternoon, I blew the doors off it, flying through the rural backroads of this island. It was quite thrilling.
Driving in Korea is like driving by intuition. I don’t read or speak the language, so I have no idea what any of the signs say. But it doesn’t matter. People here possess a healthy disregard for driving rules anyway. Everything seems optional.
Parking? I have no idea what the rules are. People park everywhere. It’s a mess.
Red lights? Optional. I saw a metro bus fly through a “crosswalk only” red light without missing a beat.
Speed limit? A suggestion, except in clearly marked camera enforcement zones. People tend to drive 10 km above or below the established limit. Whatever you’re comfortable with.
Stop signs? There are no stop signs at general intersections (without lights). If no one is coming, you are free to blow right through what you would call a 4-way stop in America. Even if cars are coming, if you can blow through it if you’re fast enough. You’re constantly playing a game of chicken. It’s completely mad, and I love it.
Driving here is a wonderful way to learn to trust your instincts and just go for it. It’s all jazz. You get into a flow, and somehow, you accept and adapt what you know to a new set—a new song. The rules here are what you make them, and somehow, it all works out, and no one dies. If that doesn’t cheer you up, I don’t know what will.
I’ll be fine and am feeling quite optimistic. I like this next half-century already.
Sending lots of love to you!
Giyen
