Misadventures of a Traveling Nomad

Buddha's birthday was supposed to be the perfect time to unwind in Seoul. I had been dreaming about eating black jajangmyeon Chinese noodles, sleeping in a temple, and visiting the lantern festivals. My plans quickly unraveled when I came down with “the virus." The primary suspect for my illness was a man named Young Min who I had met at a dinner party the previous weekend. The 36 year-old bar owner had been studying English with my American friend William.

William had secretly nicknamed him Gangster. Young Min was the first Korean I had met who actually wanted to have dark skin and routinely visited a tanning salon in order to achieve his goal. His younger sister, Song, who spoke the least amount of English, looked like a Korean version of Jennifer Lopez in her pink velour tracksuit. She immediately introduced me to the queen of the castle, a white longhaired cat named Yangoon. There was little time for me to warm up to Yangoon before Song practically threw her into my arms.

The living room in their futuristic high-rise apartment was packed with Gangster's friends. I noticed 10 Korean men sitting on the floor around a long, black coffee table. They were counting large stacks of Korean won. I had no idea why they were counting so much money and I thought it was best not to ask.

I asked Song what she does for work. She smiled and in broken English replied, “No work, shopping, good brother.” Later that evening she showed me to the bathroom in her bedroom. The vanity area was topped with makeup, brushes, toiletries, and more piles of won. I thought twice about stuffing a few stacks down my shirt and making a run for it. The last thing that I wanted was to end up floating in the Han River.

After light hors d’oeuvres and conversation with Gangster and Song—mostly consisting of my poor Korean and their broken English, we played a few rounds of Uno. Song and her brother took the game very seriously. I didn’t want Gangster to break my legs, so when he mistakenly told me that I needed to take two more cards from the deck I didn’t challenge him.

During the game, Gangster had a coughing and sneezing fit. I hadn't quite figured out how to politely ask Koreans not to cough or sneeze in my face. I thought that maybe he was allergic to the cat. When I finally asked if he was okay, Song casually replied in broken English, “He has the virus.”

I knew it was only a matter of time before my weak immune system coupled with the usual workweek fatigue would betray me.