When I told Thomas that I was leaving to Seoul with Sabine during the time when he was to receive the visits from his foreign clients, he was quite relieved at the news, knowing that he would have been too busy for me during that period and that my trip would get him rid of the feeling of guilt about him ignoring me even more than usual. Or at least this is the impression he gave me, because, immediately after I got my plane ticket, I felt that he was more relaxed about the busy weeks that would come and I've even heard him say that my trip came at the right time, because he would have a lot of work to do during that period.
I could not help but feel like an accessory that he could get rid of whenever he didn't need it anymore, just to get it out of his hair, but this was just my opinion and I preferred to ignore that feeling and to think that I'm the winner in this story, since, after all, I was the one going on vacation, and not going to work, like he was about to spend his time.
So now I was on the plane, a little bit guilty that I was going on vacation without him for the first time since we've been together, sensing a timid feeling of longing, which I actually wished for, but at the same time experiencing a feeling of hope for something new. A change. This is what I wanted the most and I had the feeling again that I was to find something in South Korea that would change things for the best, and this was giving me hope that everything would turn out ok.
I smile and I'm happy. Happy that I'm exactly where I want to be, on the plane, with my best friend, on an once-in-a-lifetime adventure, as we liked to call it, since it was our first trip together to a faraway land. I take the mask off my eyes to see what she's doing, but I notice that she's already fallen asleep, so I put it back on and I try to sleep.
We often wake up, always checking the time to see how much longer we have until we arrive, but fortunately, time goes by faster than expected and, without noticing it, all the weariness disappears when we land on the Incheon airport.
The first thing that we do is buy a pre-paid local card, knowing that the roaming is going to leave us penniless, and then I send Thomas a message on WhatsApp to let him know that we're fine and that we've arrived. It's pretty early back home, so I know that his answer will come later.
We take a cab to the hotel and it starts raining heavily on the way, making the sky get dark like in a movie about the end of the world. We look at each other and start laughing:
"It's raining sooo nice!"
We were so happy that life was all rosy for us at the time.
"It's the shower the city takes before our arrival, to make itself pretty for us!" Sabine jokes and I nod.
"I'm looking forward to getting to the hotel and having a shower myself" and I lay on the back seat of the car, looking at people and shops with an open heart, waiting to start exploring the city as soon as possible.
We get to the hotel after lunch and, just as expected, everything is so luxurious that we can't believe that we had managed to get this offer with such a big discount on the room, so now we're checking in at the Four Seasons in downtown Seoul, with light luggage, knowing that it's going to be a lot heavier on our way back home.
"We don't have to sleep," Sabine decides in a determined voice while unpacking her clothes. "We have to try to get used to the time zone here."
"I'm going to have a shower, a cold one, because a hot one would get me into bed. We'll be busy with the luggage and such things for some time, and then we'll wait a while and we'll go eat something and explore the area a bit afterwards."
"Ok, ok," she nods. "We're close to some places on our list anyway."
"We'll find something to do to stay awake until a decent hour to go to sleep."
"Lots of coffee, that's the secret."
We nibble on some pastry specials that have a Parisian name and we're amused that our adventure starts in a French bistro, as if we hadn't left home, but we're happy that the products have a more South Korean origin, having nothing in common with the cuisine we already knew so well. This was to keep us going until dinner, which we decide to eat at the hotel, until we get to discover the real traditional dishes.
Meanwhile, the rain has stopped and now we see some sun rays before dawn. The weather is quite nice and we enjoy our walk in Gwanghwamun Square, admiring the imposing statues and looking up the story of each of them online.
While I was taking a photo of Sabine, I got a text from Thomas, who told me that he was glad we had gotten here all right and that he had already left for work, where he had a lot to do, and wished me to have as much fun as possible and to take as many pictures, as to remember my trip one day.
I go back to Sabine's picture and we take a selfie, frowning, because we already know that the bags under our eyes won't make a masterpiece out of this photo anyway.
We're fascinated by the old architecture, scattered through the modern buildings with tens of floors, but at the same time, we're kind of amused by the glances of the people around us, all subtle, out of the corner of the eye, as not to be offensive. After all, we're two quite tall women, Sabine is over 5'9 tall and I am about 4 inches shorter, but I'm wearing platform sandals that lift me up by about 3 inches. Yet, I think my hair is the one stealing all the glances, because a couple of months ago I decided to dye it in a bright red hue and, since it was pretty long too, under the shoulder blades, I think it was a really strange element about my appearance.
This remark comes from Sabine as well.
"That man's look was nowhere near subtle," she tells me, showing me a gentleman about 50-60 years old, visibly conservative, judging by the simple clothes he wore.
"We'll get used to such looks, I'm sure."
"We will, but I think it will be this funny until the last moment – to see how amazed they look at us: one of us tall like a giraffe and the other one with her red hair waving in the wind."
"They'll get over it," I start laughing over her comparison. "I'm sure they've met stranger specimens" and I barely finish my sentence when a Caucasian girl walks by us, full of tattoos and piercings, with a group just as nonconformist as she was, dressed in black, with big boots, yet very laid-back and careless.
"Well," says Sabine, "I already feel normal. I even start feeling South Korean" and we start laughing.
We end the night pretty early, at 10 o'clock we were already in the room and the tiredness had made us think that room service was the best option. After killing some time with all kinds of stories and making up a plan about what we were going to visit the following day, we both fell into a deep sleep.
But a strange dream stirs up my sleep in the middle of the night. I was in the underground station with Sabine, when there weren't too many people around, and we were trying to find out if we were heading the right way. When we enter the train, Sabine tells me that she's tired and she sits down on a chair next to a guy in a suit, but I don't get to sit down because the guy stares at me and I know that if I sit down I won't be able to see him just as easily. He's a brunette, with enviable nice skin and he smiles at me. And I smile back at him.
The next image in my dream shows me wearing a blue schoolgirl dress, sitting on a bench in some kind of park, with the man from the underground, who keeps looking at me, analyzing every inch of my face. "I don't wanna forget your face", he tells me, while he continues to look at me just as gently. "Can I hold your hand?" he asks me and I nod, both a little bit shy and thrilled by how close we are. My heart races, but, at the same time, I feel so at peace next to him. His soft hand caresses my fingers, contouring them as if he were trying to memorize every inch of my skin. The dream moves to another scene with us taking a walk, stopping here and there to admire hedges full of red roses, but he kept on looking at my face as attentively as before, telling me that I'm very beautiful and repeating that he did not want to ever forget my face. Now we are sitting on another bench and I have a heavy heart because I feel the time has come to say goodbye.
On that bench from my dream, his look makes me feel different, it makes me feel alone with him in that world and one can't hear a thing around us. We're alone and I realize that he hasn't let go of my hand at all, keeping fondling me with his soft fingers and touching my cheek from time to time or playing with a lock of my hair. I don't know if we are talking or if all the communication is done between our bodies alone, but I do feel like I'm floating near him and I rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and enjoying his sweet scent. When I look up, he puts his hand on my back and, coming closer to me, he kisses me gently, lovingly, and everything seems perfect and I wish for nothing more. When our lips part, we look into each other's eyes and our glances give off a pleasant feeling, as of love, but of pain as well. We stand up and he hugs me with his long arms, making me rise up on my toes to be able to put my head on his shoulder. It's something way too pleasant, but painful at the same time. It's a goodbye. And I wake up, but I look around and, after getting the hang of where I'm at, I close my eyes and I fall asleep again quite fast.
My head is heavy in the morning and the dream starts filling my thoughts in no time, making me feel confused, because it seemed so real. But I try to chase away the images; I know that jet lag is the real culprit of my dizziness. Sabine is much more amused because, having been exhausted, she dreamed that she had had a fight with her ex, so in the morning she was very determined to forget about the ex and to meet somebody in the future with whom to feel good, somebody who could truly make her feel appreciated and loved.
"Maybe you'll find somebody here," I tell her while we were getting ready to get out of the room and find a place where we could have a bite to eat in the morning, since we had lost the breakfast they offered at the hotel.
"That would be really interesting! I actually think I'll write to the ones on the expat group that I joined when living in Barcelona and maybe we'll get some recommendations from the locals."
"We have a whole list of places to see, I don't think we'll be short of any tourist attractions," I say lifting the pile of printed sheets of paper with tourist attractions and pictures on each of them.
"But we haven't done any research on the fun part! There are some areas full of bars and clubs, but..." and I see that she hesitates because of the same reason that I hesitate to finish the sentence for her.
And, yet, I do it:
"But the two of us, alone, it's kind of strange to go about aimlessly without at least having some place recommended to us. See what you can find on that group, and until then, we'll see what's in the area, but we can stay in the hotel lobby as well or at the bar, since it's pretty elegant and relaxing."
We go down to the reception, where Sabine designates me to talk to the receptionist about a place in the area where we could have brunch and possibly about the fun part of that evening as well.
Sabine sits down on an armchair a little further, while I am waiting patiently for somebody in front of me to check out so that I could talk to the petite woman speaking, fortunately, good English.
Quite impatient and bored of waiting, I throw a glance around the lobby area. Sabine is busy with her phone, there are some other people at a table, and at another table there are two men dressed in suits, one studying some maps, the other staring at me, quite frowning.
I think about that discussion on their subtlety when analyzing somebody, but the guy seems even surprised by my look. And yet, he doesn't seem to be a man with an old-fashioned mentality; on the contrary, he's dressed in a slightly casual checked brown suit that does seem of good quality and expensive. He has black hair and a neat haircut. He continues to stare at me, and I try not to let him out of my sight, as if trying to challenge him, but the voice of the girl at the reception throws me out of this game and I turn my attention towards her and to the reason why I had been waiting for a couple of minutes to talk to her.
With a big smile on her face, she recommends the Itaewon area to me, known for its bars and clubs, but she can't recommend anything specific, because there are a lot of new ones there and she hasn't been to that area in the recent years. Her colleagues go out more often and are able to write down some recommendations for me. As far as food is concerned, it seems like the best option remains that French bistro, unless we want to try a healthy South Korean style meal, with pork, barbeque and rice for breakfast.
When I turn to Sabine, I almost bump into the guy from before, who stands behind me with his hands in his pockets, thus showing his thighs through the thin material of his suit. He's taller than me by more than a head and I approximate he's about 6 foot tall. Today I'm not wearing any heels, so I feel kind of small compared to him. He's not moving, but he's smiling at me and I'm surprised. It's a warm sincere smile, even though his protruding eyes seem to be hiding something.
"Interesting tattoo," he tells me and it puzzles me even more, since I don't know what he's referring to, but he indicates the tattoo that I have on my wrist, a full moon on which craters made by asteroids are drawn.
For a moment I remembered how many hours that guy had worked on my tattoo to make sure that people would know the instant they looked at it that it was a moon, and how happy I was when he finished it and I could admire his masterpiece.
"Thank you," I answer him in a kind of English just as perfect as his.
Sabine comes to usimmediately, but the guy asks the girl at the reception for something, probablyfor a pen, because she hands it to him that very second, and then he smilesagain and goes back to his table, where the guy who was with him was just as focusedon his sheets of paper as before.