Can we smoke in here?

so, i’m here. i made it to south korea. the plane trip was bloody awful: the only reason i can even call the food edible is because i ate it. we chased the sun all the way to korea, flying into yesterday and then straight into tomorrow without ever hitting today.

 i’m not really sure what to start with….or what to say.

 i’m set up in my apartment, i’m also almost entirely unpacked, but i’m at loose ends for a while – i’ve arrived just as all of my co-workers are on their break, and so even though we all live in the same building, i’m isolated for a week as they go off travelling. i’m struggling enough with groceries, i’m going to stay put until work starts.

i did go out for dinner twice – once with my boss, and once with a teacher who was kind enough to come in on his day off to show me around. we had barbecue – we were served a plate of raw meat, which we cooked on coals at our table. with the ribs, we were given gloves to wear, rather than utensils. the other teacher thought this was hilarious – i just think it’s intensely practical. we were also given dozens of side dishes to eat with our meat – which we shared, both of us eating from the same bowl. this is a rather intimate way of eating, i think, something i’ve always reserved for very close friends. we ate on “meat street” – nicknamed thus by a., the co-worker. it’s a street simply filled with bars and restaurants, stacked 7 or 8 stories high, one on top of the other, with the street level filled with these barbecues, the tables coming right out onto the street. i’ve never seen, or heard, or smelled, so much going on at once.