Sunday, January 5, 2014

I Am Now an Olypmian

After I landed in Korea on December 19th, it's been one hurdle after another: pretty much like an Olympian running the hurdle track that never seems to end. Just keep jumping those hurdles... Life just doesn't seem to let up. First, I had to deal with my baggage not arriving with me. It decided to mosey on over a day later and then take another day to be shipped to me. Once I got everything, I realized that my guitar key, which I so wisely used to lock my case before I checked it into baggage, dropped in my dad's truck on the way to the airport. So now I have a pretty good looking guitar case with a temporarily unusable guitar.

After my luggage got sorted out, I decided to try and tackle immigration. My visa was set to expire January 4th, which left me little time consider the Christmas and New Year's holidays. On top of this, I also was dealing with a full schedule at work, which meant waking up extra early in order to be the first one at the immigration office. Once I got there, I was informed that I didn't bring the appropriate documents, even though this was not listed on their website (which I checked, double checked, and tripled checked prior to my visit). But there's no arguing with the greasy wheels of bureaucracy.

The document I needed was my housing contract, so I went to my landlord to obtain it. (I didn't have one before this because it isn't really needed in Korea. People usually just shake hands and that's that.) My landlord must have been feeling particularly lazy, because he came up with a million excuses of why he didn't want to write me a housing contract. He even tried to get me to move out a few days early so he wouldn't have to do it. After many meetings, text messages, and phone calls, I finally had my contract which I then took to immigration on New Year's Eve.

After arriving, I realized that I was number 24 in line. (Time for those greasy wheels to start spinning.) And then I looked and saw that only one person was working, and the people currently being "served" were arguing about something. (Side note, I think all immigration workers should end with each customer by saying, "You got served." It would make for a more humorous work environment as well as happier immigration workers. And that pretty much makes everyone else there happy as well.) Anyway, I was pretty discouraged because doing the math, I figured that there was no way I was going to make it before I had to go to work.

Needing to cool off, I went outside and took a walk around the area. After getting bored and thinking enough time had passed, I looked at my watch and realized that this was not the case. Only 20 minutes had gone by. I went back in to see my progress, hoping that maybe I had advanced to number 23. To my surprised, I was only 4 away from "being served." This soon changed to 0 because everyone else was waiting outside and didn't respond when their number was called. God really was looking out for me (maybe at the expense of everyone else though).

My next task in the list was moving. Probably the most loathed task of all, which is surprising considering how much I loved dealing with the kind, friendly bureaucrats at immigration. Nothing more depressing than throwing everything you own into bags and carrying them 15 minutes to another place, and then having to take everything out of those bags again. Talk about a symbol for the monotony of life. I'm still in the process of emptying everything from my bags. I think I'll take this one slow. Just take things out as I need them. After all, what's the rush? It's not like I'm moving in 2 months... Oh wait...

Pictures to follow once I have put the room in some semblance of order.

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