On Monday I traveled to Incheon Airport (up near Seoul) to pick up our new teacher. I caught the 7:00 a.m. bus down here because I wasn't sure how long it'd take and didn't want to get there late. As it turns out it was a three-hour ride and I had plenty of time to kill. I availed myself of KFC (there are none near me as far as I'm aware) and even took in a free magic show that recurred every hour for the benefit of waiting travelers.
His flight ended up being delayed, so then I had more time to kill. It wasn't all that bad; since climbing Hallasan I've been reading Into Thin Air and it's a good way to pass the time while sitting on an airport bench. Eventually his plane arrived and we got tickets for the long ride home. I knew it would be long, because Monday was Chuseok, and I'd seen the stau already building up a traffic dam as I was riding in that day.
I had no idea it'd be six hours.
Our bus broke down twice, for approximately an hour each time, apparently because it had bad engine oil. Finally they put us on another bus and we went slowly churning through the heavy Chuseok traffic. By the time we finally got back it was dark and it was late.
But I have to say we had a perfect Chuseok: coming up, I saw a great many Koreans in traditional hanbok visiting their ancestors' graves up on the hills; and on the dark ride home, we saw the full moon, sitting just on top of the mountain exactly like the song I learned with my kindergarten class on Thursday, and we made wishes. It seemed like it was fitting.
