We were sitting at a table outside a small beach storefront drinking a beer and eating a corn on the cob. It was a nice afternoon and the sea was calm, gently brushing up on the sandy shore and retreating back into the bay-like water as if nothing ever happened.
Fukuoka tower was behind us sticking straight up into the air, and it looked more like a radio tower than a genuine point of interest, looming several stories too low for us to even bother considering going up to the top. We were tired and tapped out from all the tourist traps we had fallen into over the course of the past week and a half, and I think we had seen one too many shrines and eaten one too many bowls of noodles to care much about doing anything else for the rest of the afternoon and evening.
The Asahi beer tasted okay, and when a large group of people walked onto the beach and towards the storefront, an old lady decided to sit directly next to Carolyn, almost on top of her lap. It wasn’t that there was a lack of appropriate places to sit, there were whole tables unoccupied nearby, and plenty of space left on the 5 foot bench which they now both sat. It’s like the Japanese (and Korean, even more so) older people don’t care much about invading your space, and often do things that don’t make much sense, or any sense at all for that matter.
This happened to me earlier on in the trip as well, while taking a break on a bench by a popular shrine in Kyoto. There was maybe 6 inches of space left to my right where I was sitting, and this really old guy doesn’t even look at where he is going to sit, and just goes for it.
He was probably thinking, “Oh, I totally got this. Who needs to sit on the open bench a few feet away when there is a little sliver of heaven I can grab here?”
He practically sat on my lap on his descent downward, and his bum touched my bum, and this blatant invasion of my personal bubble didn’t even phase him in the slightest.
It was odd, strange and comical, and that’s kind of what Japan and Korea have been: a series of events that are based in some alternative universe where everything is just a little bit different, a little odd and a little bit silly.
It’s been a great experience, overall, and I’m happy to have had the chance to experience South Korea and Japan. It is definitely quite a bit different from the United States, and it will be interesting to go back to the US and suddenly be able to read all the signs and communicate properly with every person that I interact with.
But, this won’t last too long, because in the beginning of May we head out to Spain for the next thing, a walk across the northern part of the country on the Camino Del Norte. We will trade our Korean and Japanese for Spanish, and this seems better. Carolyn knows a bit of Spanish, and I know way more Spanish words than Korean and Japanese combined. And Spanish uses the alphabet, so I will be able to read things, like signs and menus, even though I may not understand what they mean.
I will say goodbye to the bicycle and store it away for the next tour, whenever that may be, if there ever is a next tour (probably). It has been fun riding my bike, and I learned a lot on my 3700 miles cycling it this year, and saw a lot of interesting things too. But I’m glad to get rid of it and start traveling without it. It’s a burdensome thing, a bicycle, and all the mechanical parts and everything need tending to and care, and it’s large and can’t fly easily, or go on a bus or train easily. I’m excited to begin walking again. To be more in nature again. To carry less stuff and only have a small pack with me. It’s more free this way, even though it’s slower. But maybe that’s better. There’s nowhere I need to get to faster, anyway, and it’s a fine way to get around. Possibly the best.
Tomorrow we fly back to Busan, and then travel back to Seoul and then on towards San Fransisco and out of Asia.
I will certainly remember Korea and Japan. It is a beautiful place, steeped in mountains and rivers, sushi and kimchi, towering new sky rises and old temples. It’s a blend of ancient and fresh, of tradition and exception. They are both great countries in their own unique ways. But it is not home. That place is far from here.
Home- such a word should make your heart swell. It should make you smile, to remember the hills and trees around your neighborhood, and the food that makes you satisfied, and the language that you can understand. Home is the familiar, where you know the culture, and are an active part of it. At home, you are not a tourist or a traveler. A transient or a wanderer. You have a certain place and a role to play- and you find solace there, amidst your friends and family, the restaurant you like and the park where you go for long runs and walks. You know the streets and the corners and the stores, where everything is and how it all connects. You don’t need a map when you are home. It is in your heart, and it leads you to where you need to go.
