Long haul
Off to Korea!
On the plane, I sat next to a couple of Korean women, one silent, one a talker. I was amazed at the number of little plastic bags of provisions the talker was carrying — a seemingly endless supply of chocolate, gum, beef sticks, makeup, hand lotion, chapstick, and other things, all stuffed into a huge leather purse. She drank a couple bottles of wine with dinner, then told me a bit about her trip. Apparently she had come for some kind of conference followed by a vacation, but I couldn’t understand what the conference was about. She declared that her English was excellent because she had an American husband. He must be able to understand her accent better than me. He is some kind of telecom engineer working in Korea, and they live there with their teenage daughter.
But her secret desire is to come live in America. Korea is too cramped, she said, while America has lots of space. Actually, this is the reason cited by every Asian I have ever heard talk about wanting to come to America. We have wide open spaces. And if you’ve seen Asia, you can understand this.
I was also intrigued by the woman across the aisle. She was an elderly Japanese woman with an American passport, traveling with a young woman who was apparently a personal attendant. She looked like some variety of Pacific Islander, and her job seemed to be taking care of the older woman’s bag, picking up her cane when it slipped to the floor, making sure her utensils and napkin were in order when the meals came, etc. The elderly lady wore hearing aids, but otherwise looked quite healthy and lucid, and didn’t have a lot of trouble walking. It was an interesting arrangement. I also noticed that she spent the whole flight watching the four movies they showed — all pretty bland and dismal Hollywood fare. I was surprised they would appeal to an older Japanese woman who traveled in style with a personal attendant.
The flight first stopped at Narita (Tokyo). Clearing customs there for an international transfer is amazingly efficient; it never takes more than about 15 minutes. (Compare to London Heathrow, where it never takes less than an hour, and they have signs posted prominently telling you that verbal threats or insults to the airport staff will be considered a criminal offense).
Ah, Japan. It’s been too long, but I have to wait until next month to stay here more than two hours. I spent the time at a gate, where I found an American-style outlet to run my computer. There was also a cute Japanism — a bank of leather electric massage chairs arrayed before a panoramic window. For 200 yen, you could run one of them like an amusement park ride. Alas, I had no yen despite a yen to try one.
We finally got to Korea at night, and by the time I got to my hotel, it was near 11 pm. Bedtime!
On the plane, I sat next to a couple of Korean women, one silent, one a talker. I was amazed at the number of little plastic bags of provisions the talker was carrying — a seemingly endless supply of chocolate, gum, beef sticks, makeup, hand lotion, chapstick, and other things, all stuffed into a huge leather purse. She drank a couple bottles of wine with dinner, then told me a bit about her trip. Apparently she had come for some kind of conference followed by a vacation, but I couldn’t understand what the conference was about. She declared that her English was excellent because she had an American husband. He must be able to understand her accent better than me. He is some kind of telecom engineer working in Korea, and they live there with their teenage daughter.
But her secret desire is to come live in America. Korea is too cramped, she said, while America has lots of space. Actually, this is the reason cited by every Asian I have ever heard talk about wanting to come to America. We have wide open spaces. And if you’ve seen Asia, you can understand this.
I was also intrigued by the woman across the aisle. She was an elderly Japanese woman with an American passport, traveling with a young woman who was apparently a personal attendant. She looked like some variety of Pacific Islander, and her job seemed to be taking care of the older woman’s bag, picking up her cane when it slipped to the floor, making sure her utensils and napkin were in order when the meals came, etc. The elderly lady wore hearing aids, but otherwise looked quite healthy and lucid, and didn’t have a lot of trouble walking. It was an interesting arrangement. I also noticed that she spent the whole flight watching the four movies they showed — all pretty bland and dismal Hollywood fare. I was surprised they would appeal to an older Japanese woman who traveled in style with a personal attendant.
The flight first stopped at Narita (Tokyo). Clearing customs there for an international transfer is amazingly efficient; it never takes more than about 15 minutes. (Compare to London Heathrow, where it never takes less than an hour, and they have signs posted prominently telling you that verbal threats or insults to the airport staff will be considered a criminal offense).
Ah, Japan. It’s been too long, but I have to wait until next month to stay here more than two hours. I spent the time at a gate, where I found an American-style outlet to run my computer. There was also a cute Japanism — a bank of leather electric massage chairs arrayed before a panoramic window. For 200 yen, you could run one of them like an amusement park ride. Alas, I had no yen despite a yen to try one.
We finally got to Korea at night, and by the time I got to my hotel, it was near 11 pm. Bedtime!
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