Day Five

Day five and I wake up with an all too familiar buzzing in my ears, feeling a little like Pakistan. My airspace has been unilaterally invaded without my permission, although it is me that ends up doing the massacring. I switch the lights on and spend several minutes jumping around in my under pants as I hunt down and exterminate the first of the year’s mosquitoes to make their presence felt, ignoring the fact they are unarmed. I’m enlivened by this sign that summer is on the way, but disappointed in the knowledge that I could soon be leaving it behind for yellow dust storms and smog.

Having visited a PC Bang to print out some vital documents, including the Chinese characters for various key phrases, such as ‘bus station’, we head back to the hostel to beg for assistance. Why? Because we have found it practically impossible to communicate with our ferry company, having made a booking and a payment. We need a) confirmation that this was received and b) any information available as to how we attain our tickets, track down the right terminal and actually board the damn thing. As a worrier, I am worried. As a relatively relaxed individual Meka isn’t particularly. As a thoroughly hospitable and generous host, Mr Choi sorts it all out on our behalf. My worries alleviated, we are on our way, Mr Kim’s Backpackers Friends again proving worthy of the name.

Today’s mission is a fairly straightforward one: to make it to Incheon and ensure that we are in a position to make our ferry on Saturday.

Before making the lengthy subway journey, we pop into a local bank in order to acquire some travelers’ cheques. The language barrier immediately comes to the fore as the dispirited guy attending to me grapples with my admittedly confusing name. Given I am in possession of a bank book sporting the name Hamish McNair (anything else was too long to fit), an alien registration card issued to Hamish McNair-Wilson and a passport boasting my moniker in its entirety, Hamish Robert McNair-Wilson, I can understand his woes. Unfortunately, he fails to ask me for pointers and ends up trying to track down a Hamish Robert on his system for what seems like an age…

After an incredibly convoluted process, during which the stress, which first appeared on the guy’s face the moment a wayguk sat down, tangibly grows with each minute that passes, the cheques are eventually issued. And promptly rejected by us. Why? Because the shiny demarcation is scratched on each and every one, with the word VOID 100% visible on many. I politely ask if this is okay, in Korean. They insist it is. I insist it isn’t. They maintain it is, desperate to get this debacle over with. Security approach, while I thrust the cheques back at him. In the kafuffle the manager appears, realizes our point and persists to placate us with smiles, humour and a gift of a soap and shampoo set.

And then we are on our way. An hour or so of busy subway action later and we arrive in Incheon, tracking down an affordable and clean motel with consummate ease. Here in Korea, they can usually be found with all over the major cities,  equipped with all the mod cons, plus a myriad of free extras including coffee, personal hygiene essentials and a sizeable library of not-remotely-hardcore pornography. And seldom cost more than KRW30 000 a night. Having sorted through our things and said an emotional goodbye to a few more items of clothing, we hit the town for one last Korean bbq and a lengthy nolaebang session. One hour of tuneless wailing rapidly becomes two and two rapidly become more, as the aging couple running the place consistently tear themselves away from the night’s episode of Smackdown to tack 10 minutes onto our time, every time we purchase a beer. It's a fitting end to a wonderful and emotional year in Korea...