There are certain aspects about Korea that I love. I love the independence and the freedom that I have here - to do what I want when I want without worrying about what other people will think about it. I love the Korean kids - there are no cuter babies anywhere in the world, I swear it! I love being able to climb into a taxi and be taken anywhere in the city for under R60, as long as I know how to say the place's name. I especially love being able to hop on a bus whenever I feel like it (taking work into consideration of course) and getting to anywhere in the country within 4 hours.
I have been here for four months now and have done a fair amount of travelling. The odd trips to places like Wonju, Chuncheon and Daejeon, the longer trip to Busan, the regular trips to Seoul - all of them have combined so that I have ended up spending more weekends away from Cheongju than I have spent in the city itself. And it is so easy to get there! Just go to the bus terminal, announce the place, the number of tickets (usually "hana" unless I am travelling with someone else, in which case it's "dugae") and then hand over some notes (it will never cost more than 20,000 won or R130 unless you are taking the express train, which I have yet to experience.) Then you will be given a ticket for a train which is usually leaving within the next 20 minutes unless it is an irregular bus, in which case you can expect to wait about an hour. Everything can be done very last minute and impulsively without too much hassle. And then you find yourself in a comfortable reclining seat, listening to music and reading books (or whatever it is that you do on busses) for the hour or four that you are on the bus, and before you know it there you are. Another city, ever so slightly familiar because of the dreary apartment buildings that scatter each city but at the same time completely different. A new place to explore, a new adventure!
Of course, this is usually the way that it works out. A generalisation if I may. If, however, you want to go from Cheongju to Gwangju, as was my plan this weekend, it is painful.
"What time do you want to go to the bus station?"
It was Tuesday afternoon and I was chatting away to Patrick, who was supposed to be coming with me to Gwangju for a date and was getting impatient about mapping out the details.
"Well, I am meeting my friend at 4, and it is a three hour trip, so around 1?"
"But that means you waste the whole day!"
It was something I had thought about myself, but nothing that I could help.
"But thats the time we are meeting."
"Can't we go there earlier?"
I had seen this coming. Of course Patrick wouldn't be happy going so late, and I wasn't too happy myself, but it was the plan that I had made. Patrick wasn't easily qualmed though. He liked to get his own way.
"And sit around for hours in the bus terminal doing nothing because I don't know where I am going in the city? No thanks."
"12?"
"No."
"But what if there isn't a bus at 1?"
I hadn't considered this, but it didn't concern me too much.
"There will be."
"But what about Busan? There weren't too many busses to Busan!"
Another thought that hadn't occurred to me. I didn't think about it too long though. It had been a busy weekend. Sure there were lots of busses to Busan! Why wouldn't there be? Busan is a big city, after all!
"There were lots of busses," I rebutted confidently. "They were just all booked up."
"Okay, well fine."
He had given in to my logic, but doubts had started to develop in my own mind.
By Thursday, the doubts were overwhelming, and I decided to take initiative. With the help of my friend, I found a website for the Cheongju bus terminal and, though it was all in Korean, started searching for busses to Gwangju, just so that I would know the timetable and be able to arrive in good time to book myself a ticket on the bus. I rifled through the Korean words until I found 광주 and instantly started feeling proud of myself. My Korean skills had come in handy! I clicked it and a bus timetable came up with all of the details about the trip. But something wasn't quite right. 92kms, it said. And it also said it would take just over an hour, when I had been told it would be three. I looked closer at the name and saw, in brackets, that this was 광주 (경기), a city called Gwangju which was in another province altogether. I was looking for 광주 (절로남). I laughed off the mistake and started scouring the list again for the right Gwangju. After half an hour of searching, I was still at a loss. I had been up and down the list, and there was no bus to Gwangju in Jeollonam, only to the one in Gyeonggi. I started panicking slightly, but then remembered that I was going to dinner with my co-teacher that night. She would know what to do. She would sort things out.
In the car on the way to dinner, I slipped it into the conversation. Jungyomin quickly offered to drive me there herself, and when I insisted that it was completely unnecessary, she promised to help me out with trying to find the busses timetable. After dinner she came back to my (rather messy) apartment, sat at my laptop and started searching. She came up with nothing. She tried to phone the terminal, but there was no answer. She phoned her sister, her brother in law, her own brother, but to no avail. No one knew when there would be a bus to Gwangju, if there was one at all. This was when I really started to stress. I didn't want to arrive at the bus terminal on Saturday only to find out that there was no way to get from Cheongju to Gwangju, and I wasn't prepared to make transfers at bus terminals in cities that I didn't know. I decided to go down to the bus terminal myself after school on Friday and sort everything out so that I would know what was happening when it came to leaving on Saturday. Jongyumin was kind enough to offer to drive me.
We arrived at the bus terminal around 6pm on Friday evening and made our way up to the front desk. Jongyumin spoke to the woman in Korean, and I could catch little words of their conversation. Little words like "opseyo", or "there isn't". I could feel myself starting to panic again, but I didn't let myself. Instead, I asked Jongyumin if we could go to the express bus terminal nearby, which she agreed to. On getting there, Jongyumin spoke to the woman behind the counter, and this time was successful.
"What time do you want to go?" she asked with a smile.
I almost jumped for joy at having managed to organise a bus! That desire has never come over me before.
Jongyumin insisted on paying for the ticket and wouldn't budge. On arriving at my apartment, I also discovered another 20,000 won that she had sneaked into my bag to pay for the ticket back, knowing that I wouldn't take it otherwise. The trip to Gwangju ended up being a lot of fun, and I am glad that I went, but my God was it a mission to organise getting there. At least I will know for next time.
There are certain aspects about Korea that I love. But there are also aspects of Korea that I hate. I hate not being able to go to restaurants that surround my building because I have no idea what they sell. I hate not being able to communicate with Koreans on any meaningful level. I hate coming back to an empty, rather messy apartment. But most of all, I hate that small things that should be simple become difficult. Small things like buying panado, going to the doctor and booking a bus ticket. But then again, maybe I just got too comfortable with the simplicity that buying bus tickets here awarded me. Sometimes it is good to struggle. It makes you appreciate when things are easier.
I have been here for four months now and have done a fair amount of travelling. The odd trips to places like Wonju, Chuncheon and Daejeon, the longer trip to Busan, the regular trips to Seoul - all of them have combined so that I have ended up spending more weekends away from Cheongju than I have spent in the city itself. And it is so easy to get there! Just go to the bus terminal, announce the place, the number of tickets (usually "hana" unless I am travelling with someone else, in which case it's "dugae") and then hand over some notes (it will never cost more than 20,000 won or R130 unless you are taking the express train, which I have yet to experience.) Then you will be given a ticket for a train which is usually leaving within the next 20 minutes unless it is an irregular bus, in which case you can expect to wait about an hour. Everything can be done very last minute and impulsively without too much hassle. And then you find yourself in a comfortable reclining seat, listening to music and reading books (or whatever it is that you do on busses) for the hour or four that you are on the bus, and before you know it there you are. Another city, ever so slightly familiar because of the dreary apartment buildings that scatter each city but at the same time completely different. A new place to explore, a new adventure!
Of course, this is usually the way that it works out. A generalisation if I may. If, however, you want to go from Cheongju to Gwangju, as was my plan this weekend, it is painful.
"What time do you want to go to the bus station?"
It was Tuesday afternoon and I was chatting away to Patrick, who was supposed to be coming with me to Gwangju for a date and was getting impatient about mapping out the details.
"Well, I am meeting my friend at 4, and it is a three hour trip, so around 1?"
"But that means you waste the whole day!"
It was something I had thought about myself, but nothing that I could help.
"But thats the time we are meeting."
"Can't we go there earlier?"
I had seen this coming. Of course Patrick wouldn't be happy going so late, and I wasn't too happy myself, but it was the plan that I had made. Patrick wasn't easily qualmed though. He liked to get his own way.
"And sit around for hours in the bus terminal doing nothing because I don't know where I am going in the city? No thanks."
"12?"
"No."
"But what if there isn't a bus at 1?"
I hadn't considered this, but it didn't concern me too much.
"There will be."
"But what about Busan? There weren't too many busses to Busan!"
Another thought that hadn't occurred to me. I didn't think about it too long though. It had been a busy weekend. Sure there were lots of busses to Busan! Why wouldn't there be? Busan is a big city, after all!
"There were lots of busses," I rebutted confidently. "They were just all booked up."
"Okay, well fine."
He had given in to my logic, but doubts had started to develop in my own mind.
By Thursday, the doubts were overwhelming, and I decided to take initiative. With the help of my friend, I found a website for the Cheongju bus terminal and, though it was all in Korean, started searching for busses to Gwangju, just so that I would know the timetable and be able to arrive in good time to book myself a ticket on the bus. I rifled through the Korean words until I found 광주 and instantly started feeling proud of myself. My Korean skills had come in handy! I clicked it and a bus timetable came up with all of the details about the trip. But something wasn't quite right. 92kms, it said. And it also said it would take just over an hour, when I had been told it would be three. I looked closer at the name and saw, in brackets, that this was 광주 (경기), a city called Gwangju which was in another province altogether. I was looking for 광주 (절로남). I laughed off the mistake and started scouring the list again for the right Gwangju. After half an hour of searching, I was still at a loss. I had been up and down the list, and there was no bus to Gwangju in Jeollonam, only to the one in Gyeonggi. I started panicking slightly, but then remembered that I was going to dinner with my co-teacher that night. She would know what to do. She would sort things out.
In the car on the way to dinner, I slipped it into the conversation. Jungyomin quickly offered to drive me there herself, and when I insisted that it was completely unnecessary, she promised to help me out with trying to find the busses timetable. After dinner she came back to my (rather messy) apartment, sat at my laptop and started searching. She came up with nothing. She tried to phone the terminal, but there was no answer. She phoned her sister, her brother in law, her own brother, but to no avail. No one knew when there would be a bus to Gwangju, if there was one at all. This was when I really started to stress. I didn't want to arrive at the bus terminal on Saturday only to find out that there was no way to get from Cheongju to Gwangju, and I wasn't prepared to make transfers at bus terminals in cities that I didn't know. I decided to go down to the bus terminal myself after school on Friday and sort everything out so that I would know what was happening when it came to leaving on Saturday. Jongyumin was kind enough to offer to drive me.
We arrived at the bus terminal around 6pm on Friday evening and made our way up to the front desk. Jongyumin spoke to the woman in Korean, and I could catch little words of their conversation. Little words like "opseyo", or "there isn't". I could feel myself starting to panic again, but I didn't let myself. Instead, I asked Jongyumin if we could go to the express bus terminal nearby, which she agreed to. On getting there, Jongyumin spoke to the woman behind the counter, and this time was successful.
"What time do you want to go?" she asked with a smile.
I almost jumped for joy at having managed to organise a bus! That desire has never come over me before.
Jongyumin insisted on paying for the ticket and wouldn't budge. On arriving at my apartment, I also discovered another 20,000 won that she had sneaked into my bag to pay for the ticket back, knowing that I wouldn't take it otherwise. The trip to Gwangju ended up being a lot of fun, and I am glad that I went, but my God was it a mission to organise getting there. At least I will know for next time.
There are certain aspects about Korea that I love. But there are also aspects of Korea that I hate. I hate not being able to go to restaurants that surround my building because I have no idea what they sell. I hate not being able to communicate with Koreans on any meaningful level. I hate coming back to an empty, rather messy apartment. But most of all, I hate that small things that should be simple become difficult. Small things like buying panado, going to the doctor and booking a bus ticket. But then again, maybe I just got too comfortable with the simplicity that buying bus tickets here awarded me. Sometimes it is good to struggle. It makes you appreciate when things are easier.
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