So Easy a Caveman Could Do It

I liked my apartment well enough despite the size, or perhaps because of the size. The modest dimensions were a part of its Korean-ness along with its other peculiarities. The bathroom that moonlighted as a shower stall, the sunken entry-way where one would leave his or her shoes, and the locks that have to be turned opposite of how you would expect- all the oddities of the place delighted me with the foreign flavor they immediately left on my palate.

Sleep was forgotten after only a few hours and the moon still hung heavy between the high-rise apartment buildings when I looked out my door. It was the same moon I had seen framed by palm trees as I departed San Francisco the night before- which was a comfort. Had it taken on a ghastly new form or been replaced by some imposter I suppose I might have felt a bit cheated.

Too excited to force myself back to sleep, I busied myself with reading and tidying up my things until the sun rose. I figured that people tend to get up with the sun, or at least most early risers do.  I was shocked when I finally burst forth onto empty streets around a quarter past seven. Even the corner shops were closed, preventing me from embarrassing myself by negotiating for toilet paper in a language I didn't understand.

Yes, that was a bit uncomfortable as I was jarred from my pristine porcelain pondering with the realization that the empty rod on the wall to my left was indeed the toilet paper holder. A good deal of disbelief preceded any action- the details of which are better left undisclosed.

The night before, or a mere six hours prior if that suits you better, was spent viewing the new abodes my traveling companion and I would inhabit. It was also spent receiving directions while nearly comatose. With no businesses open, I decided to put those directions to the test.

Utilizing what I recalled of my superior's guidance I attempted to locate my cohort's nearby apartment. 'One block down and to the end of the road' or something like that had been the indication. Apparently, none of the streets had names. Well, after following several of these 'one blocks' and heading to the end of a few nameless roads in a fairly circular direction for well nigh an hour I finally found the correct building. Of course, the door onto the entryway just had to be locked.

No one had said anything about there being a passcode to get into my friend's building. Normal people might simply pull out their mobile and give their chum n abbr txt msg. Alas, I was in Korea with no such device. I didn't even have access to the internet, or a plug with which to charge my laptop. I supposed I might buy a phone as I looked around at the legion of small shops with garishly colored signs advertising any number of possible services- none of which I could ascertain. Pointless, really, since my comrade possessed no phone of her own.

Desperately craving the familiar technology of home, I resorted to barbarism as the only perceived means of meeting my clan-member for the morning hunt. There was a garden that I supposed was public which lay in front of her building. I hurled deformed ears of corn from it at her window. I bellowed as loudly as my lungs would allow. Briefcase wielding businessmen on their way to work stopped to stare at the spectacle. My comrade, however, completely failed to notice.

Quite possibly starving at this point from not having eaten for some twenty-four hours and possessing no food stuffs I decided to find something to chew on. Better that than continue with the street-side chimpanzee exhibit. That something wound up being a pastry item called 'Jeju Barley Cream Bread' and a container of milk (perhaps the best I've tasted since my short stay in Sweden). I gleaned them from a kind gentleman working at a convenience store who helped me correct my pronunciation of 'kamsahamnida'- which means 'thank you'. An undisclosed amount of bathroom tissue was also procured.