My nails are still red but the party's all over

If any of you out there have missed reading this blog, I have to say, I missed writing it. Though I brought my journal with me on my four week odyssey through five cities, I didn't write in it much, and I missed the introspection. In addition, I realize that I've gotten used to observing things with an eye to writing them down later for an audience. Not to mention having an audience. Thanks for bein' here, folks, thankya verra much.

It's been just over 24 hours since I touched down in Seoul after a brutal 12.5 hour flight from San Francisco, where my sister-in-law dropped me off at the airport with 10 pounds of clothes from her closet, new running shoes (early Christmas present), and half a bag of Kettle Korn (the other half having been eaten by me the night before). How can you not love this woman?

The flight was awful. Having made it three times in the past year, I feel qualified to state that it is always awful and can't not be awful. (Except maybe in first class, where the seats recline to full horizontal position and you have more space to yourself than I have in my Seoul bedroom.) It could have been considerably more awful, however, save for a chance meeting on the plane, the kind that never happens -- except when it does. I was heading toward my seat when my eyes landed on the guy in the seat in front of mine. The face looked familiar... a name floated up... in an incredulous voice, I asked: "Chris?"

Yup, it was indeed who I thought it was: Chris Lee, a friend of my brother's from college, whom I'd last seen at said brother's wedding three years ago. Funny thing is, I'd originally been placed in the middle seat of the middle section by the check-in counter, and only by request had I been reassigned to the aisle seat behind Chris'. If I hadn't had a horrible time sitting in the middle section on the way to the States, I might not have requested the seat change, and may not have seen him.

Chris and I were able to sit next to each other, and chatted for the first couple hours before dosing ourselves with Dramamine and falling asleep. (Well, I fell asleep. I don't think he managed as well.) I had been psyching myself up to ruminate and write in my journal during the long flight, but I didn't mind too much not doing that; too much scope for wallowing in the blue feeling that had started when I wheeled my suitcase through the airport doors. As I watched Julie drive away, I felt a surge of sadness. Alone again. My last two visits to the States were, respectively, difficult and more difficult; this visit was all about reconnecting with people and having a good time -- no, scratch that -- having a great time. So, unlike the past two visits, I wasn't looking forward to getting away. Flying with Chris, who is visiting Korea for two weeks, helped ease the transition back to my life here.

And life here? Well, it's pretty much as it was. My former classmates were really happy to see me this morning, which of course was extremely gratifying. Lewis, the NZ sheep shearer, is back and in my class, as is Father Peter (we'd all taken the summer off from class). Two former classmates, Hiroko and Masaru, came by the school and 10 of us all had lunch together.

After lunch, I wandered around with Gyung-li, another former classmate, trying to yank my brain back into Korean mode. My brain hurts. I'm in for a tough week or two.

As for work, my dad arranged a meeting with an educational institute for me to teach writing (not sure of the details), so I'm going to see them tomorrow. In addition, in a surprise move, the human resources guy at the Foundation called my dad on Monday and said that if I wanted to come back to my job, it was open. Huh. God, I hope I have the strength to say no.

One last thing before I take my discombobulated self off the air. I have to say that upon opening my bedroom door last night, I felt a little wave of sadness, as I remembered all the times I cried in there about John. It feels like I've been away for a long, long time, much longer than four weeks. I looked around the small room and thought, "Oh, this is so not home."

Home is where the heart is, and my heart is with all the friends and family I saw this past month, who were made more beautiful than usual by my lack of close friends here. I'm not shedding any tears for myself (what a change!) about that; I know this was the right place for me this past year, and it has been wonderful and difficult and a huge learning experience. It just happens that one of the important lessons was that intimacy is a beautiful thing, and I missed it much. So thanks, folks, thankya verra much, for bein' here.