The Traveler
By Jerome Pearson
September 2013
As a young boy in his home state of South Carolina, he had always wanted to travel, but rarely got the opportunity. His first time leaving the state was during the summer prior to entering the 6th grade. That trip would take him to Miami, and would only last a week. After that summer, he was required to write a story about how he spent his summer. He had lied, indicating that he had spent the entire summer in Miami, when it was actually just one week. He was thinking that spending the entire summer away was much more impressive than just one week. He had envied those who were privileged to spend the entire summer away. He could not do that. He had to work in the fields, pulling weeds out of cotton, and later, working in tobacco.
During those days schools in South Carolina would routinely open on the Thursday before Labor Day. Those who were away for the summer would most likely not begin school until the Tuesday following Labor Day since they would not return to South Carolina until the Labor Day weekend. You could tell who had been away for the summer by observing their absence during the first two days. Those students were held in high esteem once they did show up since they had spent the summer in Baltimore, Brooklyn, New Jersey, or Miami. When they returned to SC they would flaunt the latest fashions which would include such things as, new mini-skirts, hot pants, bell-bottoms pants, platform shoes and Converse All-Star sneakers. Over the next several weeks they would wear an air of superiority over those “lesser beings” that had to spend the entire summer working in the fields. As a matter of fact, everything that was considered “not South Carolina” was held in higher esteem back then. Even cars that displayed, for example, a New York license plate would be considered superior to the very same car that contained a SC license plate. During the holidays he and his friends would aggressively look for cars that would contain “off” license plates. He never knew where the word “off” came from, at least in the manner that is was being used. Someone from another state would be considered being from “off” or “up the road”. However, North Carolina did not count back then. If you came to SC with a North Carolina license plate, you would look like a runaway slave who, unfortunately, got caught before reaching freedom.
Regarding the new school year, he had once contemplated not showing up until the Tuesday as well, which would give the impression that he had been away for the entire summer. But he so loved school, and could not wait until the new school year to begin; skipping the first few days was not an option. In the meanwhile he could only travel through books, and as the saying goes, “through books he could travel around the globe without moving an inch.” His real traveling would only come many years later, and the places he would go were not necessarily the places those students had gone many years ago. He would, indeed, travel around the globe for real.
He arrived in Delhi, India on a Saturday evening in mid-August 2013. This would be his second time in India during the year and fourth time overall. Earlier this year he had flown to India and from there to Amsterdam. This time he would leave India, and then fly directly to Seoul, South Korea. After arriving in
India on that Saturday evening and spending one night at the Radisson Blu Hotel in Delhi, over the next several days he would reside in 3 additional hotels before returning back to the same Radisson Blu the following Thursday.
Returning to the Radisson Blu on that Thursday evening after a very eventful 4 hour train ride –which included an incident with smoke coming from one of the cabins in the train – he could finally relax over the next couple of days before leaving for South Korea.
On that Friday, he would be taken on a guided tour of some historical sites in and around Delhi. Saturday was quiet, but did include some time at the gym which was followed by much needed treatment within the hotel’s SPA. Following the treatment he could relax, and get ready for the next leg of his trip.
It was now Saturday evening. It had been a long, but exciting week. He was finally headed out. The hotel arranged a taxi to take him to the airport. His Asiana flight was due to leave Delhi, India for Seoul, South Korea at 2:a.m, very early Sunday morning. The trip from the hotel to the airport would be short – no need to worry about the chaotic driving he’d experienced during the week. He had survived another round of the craziness of driving in India. So far so good! However, he will be back. He always comes back to India, multiple times and multiple places. So many people, so many businesses! Why so many businesses in one of the poorest parts of the world? What is it about this country that attracts so many foreigners? Therein lay the question! If only he knew the answer!
About a mile from the airport, there was a traffic jam. Or was it an accident? Only in India could a 15 minute drive become a chore. This time, a truck has broken down, blocking traffic. Not too bad! The constant blowing of car horns! What would a car be like in India if its horn ceases working? The driver would probably be killed. Using the horn is the key to survival: to the driver himself, and also fellow drivers. Indians use their horns continuously; to alert fellow drivers that you are right behind and about to pass, don’t move over, or you could be killed, particularly if you are on a bike or motor-cycle. There appear to be no rules, and people frequently drive on what, in other places, would be considered the wrong side of the road; potential head-on collisions and near misses are rampant. But there is a deadly rhythm to driving here; everyone must stay on beat; one false move could mean death!
He arrived at the airport safely. The driver removed his luggage from the car. He was wondering should he tip, but in India, oftentimes the hotels include a tip in the fee they charge you for the taxi they have arranged. He did not tip – not this time! Upon arriving a week earlier, he had tipped the escort who guided him to the pre-arranged taxi, then at the hotel he tipped the taxi driver, and then inside the hotel, he tipped the agent who showed him to his room and showed him how to operate the various gadgets, and then the bellboy who brought his bags to the room. It was getting out of hand! In India he felt that everyone wanted something from him; that effusive graciousness and polite bowing of the head with palm on palm gesture did not come free.
The airport wasn’t so crowded this evening. He was happy for that. He would line-up in the business class queue for check-in; always the pleasure! There was a woman ahead of him arguing with one of the agents about something. He was wishing that she would just shut-up and move out of the way. Some
people continue to ask questions even when they already know the answer, just to spite those behind them. Since she was not getting her way, she wanted to make others suffer as well. He was finally called to another agent. The woman was still arguing. He would see this woman several times over next 10 hours. He had the unfortunate pleasure of having her on the same flight to Seoul. She would get into arguments with various people throughout the trip. She was acting like some kind of dignitary and wanted everyone to kneel before her. He would later notice her trying to cut into the Korean citizen’s check-in line at customs in Seoul. The line was shorter, but was for Korean citizens only. She was Indian, he thinks! But the agent told her to get back in the line for non-citizens; just like everyone else. He wanted to laugh at her! Who did she think she was? High and mighty! Serves her right, idiot!
After checking-in and retrieving his boarding pass, he would now go through security. There was no rush. The time was 11:30 pm; his flight does not leave until 2:10 a.m. Since 911 security in various places has gone over the top. What would he have to remove this time? America is obsessed with shoes and belts. India is obsessed with electronics. In India, he would only have to remove his computer, kindle, and cell phones. Shoes and belts can remain on. Why the difference: the shoe-bomber was coming to America when caught; therefore, America’s security has become obsessed with shoes. India does not care so much about shoes; one gets the impression that they just want to see the latest electronic gadgets that are available in the rest of the world.
After going through security, he headed for the lounge that was available for business class travelers. On his way he stopped by an airport bookshop. He wanted use his remaining rupees. Why take them to Korea, where he would need the KRW (won), or lastly to America, where only dollars count. He bought a book called the “White Tiger”, a satirical novel about India, written by an Indian writer who has studied in America, a graduate of Columbia, in NYC, just like his wife, Cecelia. After skimming the first few pages he knew he would want to read it. He needed to learn more about India since he has come and probably will come here often. He doesn’t usually buy physical books anymore, and has plenty to read on his Kindle, but he bought it anyway. He had actually seen the book in America, but this is the Indian version, he could tell by its cover. He would read it after reading the “Syndrome E”, a French novel that he was currently reading about “mass hysteria”. He has so much to read on his Kindle already. But a paperback can sometime come in handy, particularly on a plane, when you have to turn off “all electronics”, until the flight has sufficiently ascended. What he would do without books, he could not imagine! Books have been his one constant from the time he was first given one back in South Carolina many year ago. He has been blessed with the desire to read, for it is, indeed, a blessing to have a hobby that actually enhances one’s intellect and knowledge of the world. So many others have not been so blessed!
In the lounge, he selected white wine – no food this time, and started reading the paperback. Boarding time would be 1:40; he remained in the lounge until 1:15. Finally, it was time to leave, without looking at his ticket again, he headed toward gate #7, only to discover that he had read his ticket wrong; the ticket actually said gate 17. He has gone in the wrong direction. He wanted to kick himself for not being more meticulous. He wanted to be there when boarding was announced. But it was too late; boarding was announced as he was walking back up the long corridor. Lucky for him, he has a business class ticket, separate line. Those little blessings come in handy. He was one of the first to board, but it did
not matter, the plane would not be filled. Plus he was business class, plenty of room, no one sitting next to him, reclining seats, very plush.
His spirits were only dampened by the presence of that lady again, the one who started an argument at every turn, as if she was being persecuted by not being treated like a queen. Of all flights departing this evening, how did he wind up on the same flight as she? Of course she would be in business class too, but at least some distance behind him. He did not want to hear her arguing about the service, which she was destined to do; it was in her DNA.
This was his first time flying Asiana Airlines. He had heard great things about them; except for the mishap in San Francisco a few months prior where one of its planes, coming from Seoul, Korea, clipped the edge of the runway. We all make mistakes, and no airline has been faultless. It reminds him of Singapore Airlines, which he had flown several times, and was always impressed. The cute Flight Attendants, selected, he suspects, from amongst many candidates, could all be models, and perhaps were, in their own little way. They were quite different from the older International Flight Attendants he would see flying United from America.
The flight from Delhi to Seoul was very smooth. The 8 hours seemed to pass by fairly quickly. He could view the Airport as the plane was descending. His first impression was a state of neatness and modernity. There was no sense of chaos as everything appeared so neat and controlled. Before long he was walking towards customs. There were separate check-in lines for Korean citizen versus non-citizens. After going through customs, he did not have to wait on baggage since he was wise enough to not check anything. He stopped by the currency exchange and converted $100.00 US dollars to approximately 100,000 Korean KRW (Won).
He began searching for the driver who was scheduled to pick him up and take him to the hotel. There were so many people waiting with placards which showed the name of the person they were charged to receive. He finally saw his name, and gave the driver a thumbs-up. The driver grabbed his luggage and led him to the parking lot where a black on black Hyundai Genesis was waiting; top of the line Korean made car, rivaling the German BMW, as smooth as the Japanese Lexus. The driver had a cold bottled of water and ice-coffee waiting for him, both stored in the console that divided the plush leather back seats; they cruise out the airport parking lot, entered the freeway and headed towards Seoul. After the hectic week in India, the constant horns, the deadly driving, he was now able to sit back and marvel at the difference he was feeling now that he was in Seoul as opposed to Delhi. About an hour later, they were entering the City, and there are few city entrances more beautiful than entering Seoul, surrounded by the Han River, the wonderful bridges, and the sky scrapers that rivals those in the US.
Driving down the local streets in Seoul reminded him of certain cities in Europe and perhaps the US as well. Restaurants and Cafes were aplenty and there was this sense of elegant elitism pervading the scenery.
He would arrive at his address in Seoul, Lotte City MAPO Hotel, with its smooth marble-like surface, 8 floors, and 284 rooms, locate in the heart of the city with subway and underground-mall access from the lowest floor.
Check-in was quick and smooth and before long he was headed upstairs to his room on the 6 floor. His window faced the opposite side of the hotel, from which he could obtain a more voyeuristic view of the city and its inhabitants, and which also provided an excellent view of its overall horizons. He would unpack his clothing and, where applicable, hang them in the closet. After taking a shower, he could now relax on the bed and perhaps take a nap. He would read himself to sleep within a short time.
There is always a bit of apprehension when entering a foreign country for the first time; you want to ensure that you have all of the appropriate documents for entering, and that you would not be stranded at the airport as some other famous fellows now days. Thus far everything has been successful and gone off as planned: The trip from India, going through customs at the airport in Seoul, the drive into the city, and now finally in his room. In some ways he was feeling like a contract an assassin who has been sent on an important, secretive and deadly mission in a foreign country.
He would call Cecelia later since the 13 hours difference would put the US smack in its prime sleeping time of 3: AM. After napping for several hours, he was then able to call home and let everyone know that he has arrived safely and his initial impression of Seoul, Korea, of course all positives. He would describe his hotel and its surroundings, the sophisticated room, with its many gadgets and electronic devices. He would be given recommendations of potential site-seeing for the next couple of day since they did not involve meeting and would he have some time alone.
For dinner during the first several days, he would dine alone in the hotel’s restaurant called Naru which boasts an open-concept kitchen, and serves a buffet spread of Western dishes.
The next morning, he was able to use the gym before breakfast and was happy that he had included work-out clothing in luggage. Of course this made his luggage heavier than it could have been but it was certainly worth it, since the gym was nice, quiet and conveniently located on the 4th floor of the hotel.
After breakfast in the same restaurant, Naru, he began inquiring about potentially traveling to a wellregarded mall called Myeong-dong. Of course he could take a taxi or bus, but was told that the subway was more convenient. Hotel representative mapped out his directions which would include only one train transfer prior to his destination. In some countries, although you may not speak the language, you can still follow the name of places because the spelling may in some ways be similar to English. However, in Korea and perhaps China and Japan as well, you can’t even begin to analyze the beautifully scripted language which may look like this: 한국어/조선말,.
To say the very least, he was lost on more than one occasion. Although it was a challenge, it was certainly fun, and anyone he approached with a question went out of their way to help him as much as they could. Sometimes, he was reminded of that movie called, “Lost in Translation” because there was some evidence of that as well. At no time did he panic, and he is always one for a challenge. He made it to his destination and was finally in the midst of one the more wonderful shopping scenes he has ever experienced. This could have been New York, Los Angeles, or San Francisco. All of the name brands were there, to include Gucci, Nike, Reebok, FUBU, Coach, etc. This was an out-door mall with street front entrances, and on such a beautiful day, the atmosphere was electric. You could walk into a New
Balance store and hear the music of soul diva, Blue Cantrell’s “Breathe” pumping from the speakers as the salesman scrambled around the store from customer to customer.
He would take numerous pictures during the visit to include one of the McDonalds located on one of the busier streets. He would even have lunch there. He had been away from America for 10 days by now and he wanted something little less spicy than the Indian and Korean cuisines that had been his regalement for the past week. McDonalds was crowded and he could barely find a seat, and he could tell that so many others must have had similar ambitions. His verdict was that McDonalds in Seoul, Korea tastes just like McDonalds in America.
It was then time to get back on the metro and attempt his journey back to the hotel. If he had been a little confused during the trip form the hotel, this confusion was perhaps even doubled during his return trip. Lucky for him, two nice Korean women noticed his befuddlement and made every attempt to point him in the right direction. They would even have him get on the train with them, and he got the impression that they were altering their own route to ensure that he landed safely at his stop. When he was at his correct stop, with broken English, they informed him that this is where he should get off. They seemed so pleased with the opportunity of being such a Good Samaritan. He thanked them as best he could, and even though he could not speak their language, they surely knew from his smile and the appreciation shown in his eyes, that he was indeed thankful. When he later told this story to his wife, she laughingly said, “I think those two ladies will be coming back for you!”
Over the next several days he was joined at the hotel with colleagues and would visit their supplier which located nearly an hour way from Seoul. Each night, they would all go to dinner in some of the best restaurants in the city including the famous Korean barbeque places.
He would leave Seoul, Korea the following Friday which would be 2 weeks from the Friday he left Newark, NJ to Delhi, India. His Asiana flight would leave Seoul at 10:a.m on Friday morning, 30 August 2013, and he would arrive in New York at 11:a.m on Friday morning being that Korea is 13 hours ahead of the U.S. As he was about to board the plane in Seoul, he was informed that he was being upgraded from Business Class to First Class.
First Class on Asiana Airlines would turn out to be perhaps his most enjoyable flying experiences. Not only did he have seat that would recline like a bed, but he also had a sliding door to his compartment. He had enough room in his compartment to actually change into the silk pajamas that were provided by the airline. It was like flying in your own little bed room and the 14 hour flight could not have been more pleasant.
As he flew back to America on Asiana airlines, he began to remember those Labor Day weekends when he was kid in South Carolina many years ago. He could not imagine back then that while he was never fortunate enough to be one of those students who would arrive back home during Labor Day weekend, it was perhaps because of the very fact that he spent those summers in the fields, he would learn the discipline and patience that would lead him down that very long and exciting road that would make it possible for him to return home, not just from Brooklyn, Baltimore, and Miami, but perhaps, also, from India and South Korea first class on a Boeing 320 Airbus.
Jerome