So here’s what happened…
I referred earlier to an incident of such horror that it ought not be discussed in polite company. This is the one and only time I’ll lay out the ugly details:
It started yesterday (Sunday in Korea time), really, when another teacher mentioned that she was going for a jog outside rather than using the hotel fitness center. I’d been wanting to see more of Seoul, and her solution seemed perfect – certainly more adventurous than staying within the confines of the hotel to stare into a mirror while sweating on the elliptical machine.
So at 6AM this morning I ventured forth. A bit of background for those of you who don’t know all of my (charming) idiosyncrasies: I have a much-vaunted “keen sense of direction.” I know it’s much vaunted because I’m the one who did all the vaunting – my friends have had to endure the bragging and boasting many a time. And in my defense, it wasn’t hollow braggadocio – there have been numerous occasions (like the stars – too numerous to count) on which my keen sense of direction (hereafter referred to simply as KSOD) took me straight to where I needed to be, unaided other than by the environmental cues and underlying knowledge. And I’ve never been lost. To repeat: I’ve never been lost. Sure, there was been a time or two when I needed to do some exploration before I found my destination, but, really, no problems. One last little bit of info: I am the stereotypical male who doesn’t ask for directions (no need, after all, with my KSOD).
Of course the people reading this are smart enough to see where the story’s going, but I’ll give you the ugly blow-by-blow. So I trotted out of the hotel at 6AM, knowing that our bus was scheduled to leave at 8AM, but only intending to take a short jog – around 30 minutes. I didn’t worry about finding my way, since I figured I’d jog for a while, then turn around and follow the same route back. How hard could that be? I’ll never know, since that’s not what I ended up doing. After jogging for about 15 or so minutes, I turned around, but instead of following the exact route back, I chose instead to travel down in interesting side street. It was easy enough to see what direction it was going, and I figured it would hit another main artery and I’d continue back to the hotel on that. Initially I liked the side street a lot – it led past some of Seoul’s churches and an embassy or two. But it curved and circled a bit, so that when it ended I wasn’t where I thought I’d be. No big deal. After all, I knew I had plenty of time and with my KSOD I was sure I could meander back to something familiar. “Like that Starbucks right there,” I thought happily, except I couldn’t tell if it was exactly the same one I’d seen previously, and, besides, I’d actually passed two or three of them. So I kept going, alternating between jogging and walking, pretty much enjoying myself but knowing it was later than I intended – probably getting to be 6:45 or so. I didn’t know for certain what time it was because I don’t wear a watch because I have – really I do – a KEEN SENSE OF TIME (KSofT) in addition to my KSOD.
But as the minutes ticked past, and block after block blurred together into one big jumble of Korean lettering, shops and huge buildings, I felt my level of nervousness rising. I thought about an hour had passed, but if my KSOD could fail me then what’s to say my KSofT wasn’t equally unreliable? Everything became open to question – like Descartes before me I found my philosophical world crumbling around me. But he had the luxury of time to stop and ponder. If there’s anything more central to my persona than my KSOD and my KSofT, it’s punctuality. I didn’t have time to return to core truth as he did so long ago when he famously pronounced Cogito ergo sum. I needed to get back to the hotel and fast. Cogito ergo screwed.
Nightmare scenarios were crowding into my consciousness – I could picture all the other teachers waiting on the bus, cranky due to today’s earlier start, waiting impatiently when the headcount produces a missing teacher. As the minutes drag on and the late arrival doesn’t show, eventually someone produces a list to figure out who’s missing. And when they figure out that it’s me, surely this group that thus far had seemed magnanimous and gracious would quickly transform into the snarling pack of wild dogs housed in so many school staff lunchrooms (NOT MINE, you understand, but I’ve heard about the others). I could hear in my mind the things they’d say: “What kind of stupid fool doesn’t take a map with him when venturing out in a strange city for the first time?” (One who’s KSOD precludes the necessity.) “Is he so idiotic that he doesn’t think to use the handy-dandy card they gave us to hand to taxi drivers, so that any taxi (which are cheap and reliable in Seoul) could bring him back?” (Again, why would I take such a thing? It’d be like Superman booking a plane flight – just silly.)
These thoughts of peer-torment contributed to an ever-growing sense of disorientation and general befuddlement. I’d given up, for the moment at least, faith in the two traits at the core of my being. All my thoughts and impressions were now suspect. Like my sense that I’d seen that Citibank building on my starting route: “Ah, there’s that huge Citibank building. But wait, did I really see it earlier, or do I just think so because I’ve been jogging toward it for five minutes, looking up anxiously every few seconds for some familiar landmark. Am I remembering seeing it an hour ago, or sixty second ago?”
True enough that I hadn’t brought the pre-printed card with directions too the hotel, but I did have my room key card, which had the name of my hotel on it. Surely a hotel big enough to house two neighboring twenty-story towers would be enough of a landmark that taxi drivers would know it by name. Turns out our twenty-story hotel doesn’t really stand out in Seoul, where there are a plethora of skyscrapers. I learned this when I hailed a taxi, gave him the card, and, pointed to the name, clearly miming that I needed to go there. He squinted, looked at it carefully, thought for 30 seconds or so while my hopes soared, then shook his head and handed it back. Ditto the second cab that I hailed. I knew it was time for drastic measure if I was going to be showered and on time to board the bus with my fellow teachers. So I did the unthinkable: I showed the card to several street vendors, pointing back and forth each time between me and the card – obviously pleading for them to point me in the right direction. And each time I was rebuffed by people who obviously had never heard of the hotel (which in retrospect makes me feel pretty good about my jogging abilities – I must have been further away that I thought “fat-man-jogging” could accomplish).
My savior wore a black chauffeur’s cap, a well-pressed uniform, and drove a cab that said, “Deluxe Taxi Service” on the side. No, he didn’t know instantly where the hotel was located, but when he pulled out a cell-phone I happily leaped into the back seat. Ten minutes later, we pulled up outside my home away from home. I communicated with more pointing that I needed to run up to my room and get money, for which he patiently waited. And, as we had been told, the price was quite reasonable.
Especially so a little while later, when I sat my usual cool, calm and collected self on the bus while we waited for the one teacher who was late.
Postscript: I realized later as I reflected that if one has the proper perspective of the time-space continuum I was never actually lost. After all, the jog marked the beginning of my jogging habit here in Seoul. It doesn’t make sense to view each separate jog as a distinct entity, but instead as one group of jogging sessions. And thus each time I proceed on subsequent jogs and find my way back to the hotel, I will prove yet again that there is no such thing as lost, only longer explorations than anticipated.
next post
It started yesterday (Sunday in Korea time), really, when another teacher mentioned that she was going for a jog outside rather than using the hotel fitness center. I’d been wanting to see more of Seoul, and her solution seemed perfect – certainly more adventurous than staying within the confines of the hotel to stare into a mirror while sweating on the elliptical machine.
So at 6AM this morning I ventured forth. A bit of background for those of you who don’t know all of my (charming) idiosyncrasies: I have a much-vaunted “keen sense of direction.” I know it’s much vaunted because I’m the one who did all the vaunting – my friends have had to endure the bragging and boasting many a time. And in my defense, it wasn’t hollow braggadocio – there have been numerous occasions (like the stars – too numerous to count) on which my keen sense of direction (hereafter referred to simply as KSOD) took me straight to where I needed to be, unaided other than by the environmental cues and underlying knowledge. And I’ve never been lost. To repeat: I’ve never been lost. Sure, there was been a time or two when I needed to do some exploration before I found my destination, but, really, no problems. One last little bit of info: I am the stereotypical male who doesn’t ask for directions (no need, after all, with my KSOD).
Of course the people reading this are smart enough to see where the story’s going, but I’ll give you the ugly blow-by-blow. So I trotted out of the hotel at 6AM, knowing that our bus was scheduled to leave at 8AM, but only intending to take a short jog – around 30 minutes. I didn’t worry about finding my way, since I figured I’d jog for a while, then turn around and follow the same route back. How hard could that be? I’ll never know, since that’s not what I ended up doing. After jogging for about 15 or so minutes, I turned around, but instead of following the exact route back, I chose instead to travel down in interesting side street. It was easy enough to see what direction it was going, and I figured it would hit another main artery and I’d continue back to the hotel on that. Initially I liked the side street a lot – it led past some of Seoul’s churches and an embassy or two. But it curved and circled a bit, so that when it ended I wasn’t where I thought I’d be. No big deal. After all, I knew I had plenty of time and with my KSOD I was sure I could meander back to something familiar. “Like that Starbucks right there,” I thought happily, except I couldn’t tell if it was exactly the same one I’d seen previously, and, besides, I’d actually passed two or three of them. So I kept going, alternating between jogging and walking, pretty much enjoying myself but knowing it was later than I intended – probably getting to be 6:45 or so. I didn’t know for certain what time it was because I don’t wear a watch because I have – really I do – a KEEN SENSE OF TIME (KSofT) in addition to my KSOD.
But as the minutes ticked past, and block after block blurred together into one big jumble of Korean lettering, shops and huge buildings, I felt my level of nervousness rising. I thought about an hour had passed, but if my KSOD could fail me then what’s to say my KSofT wasn’t equally unreliable? Everything became open to question – like Descartes before me I found my philosophical world crumbling around me. But he had the luxury of time to stop and ponder. If there’s anything more central to my persona than my KSOD and my KSofT, it’s punctuality. I didn’t have time to return to core truth as he did so long ago when he famously pronounced Cogito ergo sum. I needed to get back to the hotel and fast. Cogito ergo screwed.
Nightmare scenarios were crowding into my consciousness – I could picture all the other teachers waiting on the bus, cranky due to today’s earlier start, waiting impatiently when the headcount produces a missing teacher. As the minutes drag on and the late arrival doesn’t show, eventually someone produces a list to figure out who’s missing. And when they figure out that it’s me, surely this group that thus far had seemed magnanimous and gracious would quickly transform into the snarling pack of wild dogs housed in so many school staff lunchrooms (NOT MINE, you understand, but I’ve heard about the others). I could hear in my mind the things they’d say: “What kind of stupid fool doesn’t take a map with him when venturing out in a strange city for the first time?” (One who’s KSOD precludes the necessity.) “Is he so idiotic that he doesn’t think to use the handy-dandy card they gave us to hand to taxi drivers, so that any taxi (which are cheap and reliable in Seoul) could bring him back?” (Again, why would I take such a thing? It’d be like Superman booking a plane flight – just silly.)
These thoughts of peer-torment contributed to an ever-growing sense of disorientation and general befuddlement. I’d given up, for the moment at least, faith in the two traits at the core of my being. All my thoughts and impressions were now suspect. Like my sense that I’d seen that Citibank building on my starting route: “Ah, there’s that huge Citibank building. But wait, did I really see it earlier, or do I just think so because I’ve been jogging toward it for five minutes, looking up anxiously every few seconds for some familiar landmark. Am I remembering seeing it an hour ago, or sixty second ago?”
True enough that I hadn’t brought the pre-printed card with directions too the hotel, but I did have my room key card, which had the name of my hotel on it. Surely a hotel big enough to house two neighboring twenty-story towers would be enough of a landmark that taxi drivers would know it by name. Turns out our twenty-story hotel doesn’t really stand out in Seoul, where there are a plethora of skyscrapers. I learned this when I hailed a taxi, gave him the card, and, pointed to the name, clearly miming that I needed to go there. He squinted, looked at it carefully, thought for 30 seconds or so while my hopes soared, then shook his head and handed it back. Ditto the second cab that I hailed. I knew it was time for drastic measure if I was going to be showered and on time to board the bus with my fellow teachers. So I did the unthinkable: I showed the card to several street vendors, pointing back and forth each time between me and the card – obviously pleading for them to point me in the right direction. And each time I was rebuffed by people who obviously had never heard of the hotel (which in retrospect makes me feel pretty good about my jogging abilities – I must have been further away that I thought “fat-man-jogging” could accomplish).
My savior wore a black chauffeur’s cap, a well-pressed uniform, and drove a cab that said, “Deluxe Taxi Service” on the side. No, he didn’t know instantly where the hotel was located, but when he pulled out a cell-phone I happily leaped into the back seat. Ten minutes later, we pulled up outside my home away from home. I communicated with more pointing that I needed to run up to my room and get money, for which he patiently waited. And, as we had been told, the price was quite reasonable.
Especially so a little while later, when I sat my usual cool, calm and collected self on the bus while we waited for the one teacher who was late.
Postscript: I realized later as I reflected that if one has the proper perspective of the time-space continuum I was never actually lost. After all, the jog marked the beginning of my jogging habit here in Seoul. It doesn’t make sense to view each separate jog as a distinct entity, but instead as one group of jogging sessions. And thus each time I proceed on subsequent jogs and find my way back to the hotel, I will prove yet again that there is no such thing as lost, only longer explorations than anticipated.
next post
posted by Cowells at 5:55 PM
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