SEOUL – IT IS THE RAINY SEASON. Great boulders of dewy grey roll over this city’s ceiling of haze, occasionally tumbling into each other with a thunderous crack, spilling their insides. The rain is like foamy tap water wrung from a kitchen sponge. It lathers the oily streets, douses the hurried citizens.
In the heart of this steamy metropolis, I can’t escape the feeling that I am floating. This city barrages the senses; even claiming the space behind your eyes is a battle. Seoul is marching, protesting, yelling, hustling — it is a crush of humanness. The blurry pace of it all is enough to make the traveler feel fractured and distracted; these symptoms of disorientation are only heightened with something as heavy and wonderful as marriage tipping the horizon.
Yes, by the time that carton of milk in your fridge goes sour, I will be a married man. The closer I come to the wedding date, the more I find it impossible for my mind to settle; I’m constantly buzzing, aware of the fact that my fiance is 10,000 miles away and that the clock is ticking down. I check my watch as if my flight might take off any minute. My body zips along the Seoul underground, my head bobs somewhere along the shores of Lake Monona.
I sweat. Or is it just that I’ve been walking through clouds?
This is the main reason — or at least, the best reason — that the frequency of my posts here has slowed to a trickle. Every time a sit down to write, I feel some force pulling me from my chair. I’ve been loath to stay in the apartment in the evenings; the aloof solitude of this tiny dwelling gives me more opportunities to mull over these feelings of dislocation: Here it is, this home I have made. Where is my other half?
Posts may continue to be a bit thin for a little while longer here at TDT. I leave for Madison for my wedding next weekend, and my fiance and I have just over a week to tear down our old apartment, visit with friends and family, get married, pack up and jet back to Seoul together. Thanks for bearing with me. Safe travels.