Page 13 of Heart and Seoul (Seoul 1)

“I love you.” I don’t know how to explain myself. How can I put words to something that’s a feeling in my chest? “I love you, Mom. I’m not leaving you.” Not like Pat did. “I’m just . . . I want to go.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’m sorry,” Boyoung repeats for what seems like the tenth time since I landed. After I unfolded my body from the cramped airplane seat and turned on my cell phone, a host of messages from Boyoung greeted me. She couldn’t meet me at Seoul Station as we originally planned, she was very sorry, and she would make it right.

“It’s okay.” What was the Korean term? I remember hearing it in a song that Boyoung liked to play in her apartment. Gwenchan-ah? Gwenchan-ahyo? I try it out, my tongue tripping over the unfamiliar syllables. “Gwen-chan-ah-yo?”

Boyoung tries to suppress a laugh but a small sound escapes. “More hard k sound than the gw one, but it’s the right term. Thank you for understanding. My brother is sick and I’m afraid to leave him.”

“It’s no problem at all.” There’s a train that runs directly from the airport in Incheon, a small island city northwest of the capital, and deposits me at Seoul Station. From there, I need to take one more train and then a bus to get to my rented room. Boyoung thought that it might be too complicated. While the subway had English signs, the buses did not. Plus, I needed a transit card and she couldn’t remember where the English kiosks were at the subway station, which made sense because she would never have had the occasion to use them. In the back of my head, I can hear my mom chastising me for coming to a foreign country when I barely know three words. Of course, I will not be admitting my unease to Boyoung. She’s clearly distressed.

“It is not good, but what can we do?” She sighs. “After customs, go downstairs and through the doors. Straight ahead will be a telecom desk. You can pick up an internet modem there. The clerks will all speak English so there will be no problem. Do not take the train. I have hired a driver.”

I grimace. That sounds expensive, and with Mom against this trip, I’m on my own financially, so I need to be careful. “I’ll be fine with the subway. You said all the signs are in English at Seoul Station.”

“You have luggage. No. The car is the right thing. The train cars have this small space for bags and you have to transfer at Seoul Station, which is very busy. I’ll show you tomorrow, okay? Make sure you go to the man wearing a blue suit and a red tie. He will wait for you near the rental station for the internet modem. Also do not worry because he speaks English, too. He has your mobile number and will text you if you can’t find him. I told him where to go, but show him your address and he will take you directly there. Please, Hara, or I will worry too much about you.”

There’s genuine grief in my friend’s voice, and since I don’t want to add to her burden, I capitulate. “All right, but I’m paying for the car when we see each other tomorrow.” Boyoung makes some noises of protest but I ignore them. “One of the security guards is glaring at me. Let me call you back after I get through customs and find the driver, okay?”

“Yes, good.”

We say our goodbyes and I allow myself a brief moment of panic as I tuck my phone away. I give a tight smile to the uniformed officer, whose facial muscles do not move, and proceed through the customs line.

I’m an adult. I’ve traveled outside of Iowa before, so while the Incheon airport looks more like a small, futuristic city than a travel gateway, I feel confident I can find my way to the Airbnb, especially if I have someone dropping me off at the front door. It’s a splurge but worth it. Plus, Boyoung sent me a handy cheat sheet of words—not that I can pronounce any of them, but she assured me if I showed my phone to any traveler, someone would help me.

“People are nice in Seoul,” Boyoung had said when she finally realized that I was making this trip no matter how many times people told me it was a mistake.

It was strange how the more people told me not to go, the more I wanted to leave. No one could change my mind, not even my supervisor, who said that while my two-week vacation could be approved, I wouldn’t be able to take one more day off for the entire year, not even around the holidays. I didn’t care. I went home and started packing.

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