About three weeks into my stay here I made a post about how much I missed everyone at home. Adrian left a comment saying “if you’re not crying when you leave Korea, then you’ve done something wrong”. Well apparently I’ve done things right, cause the last couple days have seen their share of tears. Saturday was filled with them, along with hugs and promises for the future—all of which I intend on keeping. Granted, everyone was totally shit faced (herong-herong as they say in Korea) but the emotions were no less real. Tonight I had my last dinner with Mr. Kim, his wife, his daughters Aram and Ara and my lady friend of the last six weeks or so. Mrs. Jeong made shabu-shabu, which is a hot pot sort of dish, where you throw vegetables and meat into boiling broth and cook it right at the table. And of course, she has the magic hands, so it was predictably delicious. BUt as the night wore on, things became a bit somber. We only had to and a half bottles of soju, which is really just a started for Mr. Kim and I. When the last of the shots was poured, Mr Kim made a toast and I could see he was starting to cry. That was fucking it. For the next 45 minutes we blubbered like a couple “2 X large babies” and tried to laugh about it s much as we could. By the time it was time to walk out the door and give them final hugs, I could hardly utter a word save to tell them both, very shakily, that I loved them.
To the rest of my friends here; Sean, Jared, Jordan, Caitlin, I love you all and will never forget everything we’ve been through together. Without you guys I don’t know that I could have made it through what was, at times, a bleak and slave like existence. Good luck in all your future travels and endeavors. I’ll do my best to stay in touch and I hope it won’t be long before I can see one, if not all of you again.
Tomorrow morning I’ll board a plane, weighed down with a suitcase full of Korean hooch that I pray makes it through customs, take an Ambien Jared gave me and with any luck not wake up until the California coast is in sight. Stay tuned in for wrap up posts and plans for a future blog.
In the words of Ozzy Osbourne—or maybe it was Moses—Mamma, I’m coming home.
A year of wonderfully heartfelt, honest, hilarious, offensive, real posts from the Jerk. Keep writing yo, can’t wait to see you. We’ll work on the grammar.
