The "Oh, Fuck!" Moment

Ok, let’s play a little game. Imagine, if you will, that you really wanna see what you’re made of because, for God only knows what reason, you just feel the need to take it to the limit one more time (Eagles reference? Hell, yes). For visualization purposes, place yourself in the 11^th largest city in the world, in an obscure bus station, where you do not speak the language, you do not have a map or the proper bus fair, and absolutely no conception of where you are or where you need to be.

What you do have is 100lbs of luggage, a smile, and shear dumb pluck.

This is what I have dubbed the “Oh, Fuck!” moment, which is akin to Oprah’s “Ah-ha Moment” but not nearly as pleasant.

My father, in his infinite wisdom, was kind enough to warn me of this moment’s inevitability. Apparently, all foreigners experience this moment at one point or another. Particularly, if they have just jetted across the world, signed a one-year contract, and are now legally bound to stay within the confines of their foreign country.

Not to worry, though. I am, after all, Hope Gately. I’ve survived getting lost in downtown Indianapolis with Dawn, downtown Chicago with Chase, excruciating heartache, spider bites, two day hangovers, and ten years of customer service as a waitress/bartender.

I got dis.

Experiencing the Seoul bus station under these less than favorable circumstances is not something that I recommend but, as they say “when life hands you lemons…find someone whose life if giving them vodka, and have a party.”

Which is just what I did. First, and foremost, I collected myself: I straightened up, freshened my make-up, puffed out my chest, and strode to the most western-looking Korean in the bus terminal.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you speak English?”

A youngman carrying a Columbia hiking bag and wearing a Northface fleece peered up from his Iphone.

“Yes…” he said in a curious and helpful manner.

“Oh, great! I’m simply lost. I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing. I have the name of my city, some won, and 100lbs of luggage. Would you be so kind as to help me?” I said all of this breathlessly, and in the most ‘damsel in distress’ way possible, having no idea if Korean men respond to this sort of feminine neediness. For all I know, he may slap me, shake my shoulders and scream “get it together woman!”

He did not.

Quite the contrary. Without saying a word, he took by backpack from my shoulder and instructed me to follow him. As we walked, he spoke in hurried Korean to several men standing nearby, who produced a dolly and hauled my luggage away. At the ticket booth, he purchased my train ticket without allowing me to give him any won whatsoever and, when I objected he merely waved a hand in dismissal. Then, at lightening speed, he ushered me to my bus, which was set to depart in five minutes.

“Sir, how can I thank you? Please, take the money that I have with me. Please.” I pleaded.

“No,” said my knight in shinning Korean armor, “ you are a guest in my country, and you are teaching my country’s children. Welcome, and enjoy your stay in Korea.” And with a deep bow, he strode away.

As I looked after, I called out the only word that I could pull from my limited Korean Vocabulary:

“Komapsumnida!”

Thank you.

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Over the Mountains:

The bus ride from Seoul to Pohang took me across the country of Korea, and was five hours in duration. At a later time, I will describe the beauty of this place in detail, but for now, I will say that there is a gentle and peaceful loveliness embedded in the mountains that instills a deep sense of purpose and serenity. They say, of America, that it is “God’s Country” and, if that is true, then Korea is God’s Getaway. He comes here to rest on the hills, and wade in the rice fields. He comes here to see the sun hang orange and burning over the earth.