How Many Korean Women Does It Take To Clean An Air Vent?

The answer, apparently, is four. There are often times here when I am left rueing the decision to leave my camera at home, and due to the torrential rain, this was one of those times. In Omokgyo subway station, four elderly women armed with brooms, dusters and dusters attached to brooms, balanced precariously on a wobbly, wheeled piece of scaffolding, each one clamouring to clean the same tiny grate as if tonights kimchi depended upon it. I honestly stopped in my tracks to watch this display, ready to catch any wayward Ajumma's plummeting to their doom. As I walked outside, I was distracted by a load screech followed by the sound of breaking glass. Of course, a bus-driver had misjudged a turn and crunched into a roadside newspaper shack.

The truth was hammered home, I was back in Korea.

It was partly these eccentricities and idiosyncrasies which warmed me to Korean people the first time around, and it's these little moments which help me to settle back in. So, how did I get here? Via London and Frankfurt as it happens. I'd never been to Germany before. I learned it has massive forest coverage, ill-tempered air hostesses, and people who do indeed dress badly and listen to European prog-metal, still. But we'll get to him and my incognito photography.

Due to my Korean recruiter believing, possibly, that Scotland was on the outskirts of London (get the no.53 from Old Kent Rd), they booked me a ticket from Heathrow. I told them that's about as much use as a paper chair, and they had no option but to book a last minute flight from Edinburgh to London, in Business Class. It was a shame that I entered the Business Lounge at 7am, as I soon learned that you were entitled to unlimited alcoholic beverages and foods. I wasn't too hungry, and I'm still at least a year shy of having my glass under a whisky optic while GMTV is still on. There is hope. Instead, I prepared a little tomato juice with trimmings, with my plastic stirrer sticking out in order to look a touch debonair alongside my suited counterparts. I'm sure Del-Boy did it too. Everyone in Business Class seems either epilectic or schizophrenic, or both, screaming at mobile phones, laptops, and each other. Perhaps they should have quaffed the whisky that I wasn't drinking.

Business breakfast on the plane was rather nice, but I would've preferred some bacon with my fat. It seems Joe Public is reluctant to spend 240 pounds on a one hour flight, as everyone up front had 3 seats each. I can't think why.

In Heathrow, I had to face the fear I had harboured ever since the check-in at Edinburgh. Due to my esteemed position in Business Class, I was entitled to limitless luggage weight. This turned out to be a good thing, as my two suitcases totalled a worrying 50kgs, breaking the allowed weight of 20kgs! With each excessive Kg apparently an extra 5 pounds, this was not good.

(Why oh why can I not use the pound sign on this computer. Druff you fool you set this up as American!)

Anyway, with a convoluted story at check-in, blaming various fabricated characters of misinformation, and mastering a resigned look as if my life was in tatters, I checked it all in for free, promising to send a Xmas card for their trouble. Good deal.

Lufthansa. It's German. I think I always thought it was Lithuanian or something, just from lazily scanning the word with no interest. Never been on one of theirs before. The hostesses seemed to curse whenever anyone asked for anything, and seemed almost rascist towards the Koreans on the flight. Plus, they showed 2 shit films compared to Asiana's 6 films and 10 channels on constant rotation. To top it all off, a German tourist sat beside me wearing a stereotypically ill-advised shirt with "Golden California" scribbled across its green, blue, pink, brown and orange material. He then proceeded to listen to 80's rock for the majority of the flight, apart from 4 golden minutes of, and I shit you not, the native language version of German "megastar" Nena's, 99 Red Balloons. Technically that's 99 Luft balloons. Check out the keyboardist with around 2:53 remaining. Priceless.

Here is my mate. Rocking to Nena.

Actually, let's have some pretty pictures from up in the sky, in case any reader has never been on an airplane. Just in case anyone from Eyemouth, Newbigging or Geumchon are reading. Use chariots and trams don't they?

(A wing!)




(Germany - My travelling companion could see his house from here. Allegedly.)



(Another wing)

I didn't sleep at all, and by the time we landed, I felt like someone had drugged my frankfurter (as in my dinner, not the guy beside me, although that would've been a good idea), and the whole immigaration process was as tiresome as before.

And with that, I emerged from Incheon airport, dripping immediately with sweat, into the crazy land I was to call home for another year!

NEXT: The First Weekend (Lost Umbrella, Lost Northy, Lost Mind)