The Bus Ride to Never

If you haven't had a good chuckle today, I hope you chuckle over this.

It began with a 4-day weekend. I advertised for an adventure. My friend Harold responded with “bungee jumping.” I said, “I’ll hold your rope.” And thus we agreed to voyage to the tallest bungee jump in Asia, over 60 meters (180 feet). We met at Dongsal Station, on the far east side of Seoul, to take a bus to Jecheon, in the very center of South Korea. Traffic on the way down turned the 2.5 hour bus ride into nearly 5 hours. Not knowing much about where we were going, why the bus was taking side roads that went nowhere, or how long it would really take to get there, we nicknamed the trip “The Bus Ride to Never,” and it came back to bite us. (Note: Harold speaks about 4 more words of Korean than I do, which is only 3.)

We arrived in Jecheon around 1pm, and caught a cab to Cheongpung Land, about 15 minutes away. It was a beautiful drive next to a large lake. Our cab driver was great and he even showed us the hotel because he thought we were dating. We finally found the bungee jumping station and Harold signed up immediately. It was pretty fun to watch, even if my stomach did turn at the thought of it all. Harold tried very hard to persuade me to go, but I stood firm, literally. I compromised, however, and offered to go on “The Big Swing.” For this “ride” they harnessed us Superman-style (stomach down) and raised us about 50 meters (150 feet) to one side, then just let loose and …. Whoosh! We swung through the air, about 12 feet from the ground. Yes, I screamed, very loud. I was the only Anglo girl in the entire park, and I was the only one that screamed on the ride.

So after bungee jumping and The Big Swing, we decided to try to find water skiing. We waited for the bus to take us back, but we waited for around 40 minutes before it came. By the time we figured out where we were when we got off the bus, we decided to just head back to Seoul since we both had another hour ride on the subways back home and the subways and bus lines close at 11pm. So back to the station we went, we bought ice creams and ate sweet potato (or something like it) pizza for dinner, then bought our bus tickets for the long ride back.

I’m still not exactly sure what happened, but the bus back to Seoul was different from our original bus. This time, the bus went for an hour or so then it stopped and everybody got off and switched buses. That was easy enough, we just followed everyone else. About 30-40 minutes later our second bus stopped at a station as well, everyone got off, and this time they all disappeared. It was 9:30pm, there were no other buses running, no other people around, and no sign of where we were. So we wandered into the empty bus station and a kind shop clerk offered to call a taxi for us. Shortened version: the taxi driver ripped us off, we paid at least triple what we should have for the ride. We arrived at another bus station that did have a bus going to Dongsal, but we were still only 30 minutes from Jecheon and the tickets back were twice as much as what we paid for the tickets down. So what did we do? We sat down. I called my wonderful home teachers, the only people that I knew had a car, and asked if they would pick us up from Dongsal Station (in Seoul, about 40 minute drive for them) since the subways and bus lines would be closed by the time we arrived early Sunday morning, which they were able to do. After about 45 minutes of thinking and sitting we decided to buy the doubled tickets, but discovered they were already sold out. What did I do? I sat down again and made some phone calls. In the meantime, Harold talked to someone who spoke enough English and Korean to somehow arrange for us to get two tickets for the soldout bus, and we got on just a few minutes later.

A lighter moment: The bus was sold out plus one and I felt lucky to even have a seat. The extra ticket went to a little ahjimma (old woman) who situated herself on the floor right next to me and braced herself for a long bus ride. I felt like I should offer my seat to her, but I knew I would not be happy to sit on the floor for the long ride. So I decided to offer the seat at half-way point. Before the half-way mark, the ahjimma must have dozed off and the bus hit a bump and she nearly fell backwards. I put my hands out to catch her, though she didn’t hit the ground, and immediately offered my seat (considering that a sign). She chuckled at herself, patted my arm and said something equivalent to “Don’t worry about it. You’re so sweet to offer, but I’m just fine. I’m going to exchange seats with my friend back there in just a few minutes anyways. But thank you for offering, you’re a beautiful sweet girl.” Something like that. At half-way point, the bus stopped for a 10-minute break and the ahjimma got off and came back with a bowl of fried potatoes and a bottle of water with two straws and she shared with me and her friend. (She actually offered some to my friend as well, but he was asleep, his loss.) This is not the first time strangers have offered me food on a bus. I love the ahjimmas.

When we finally arrived at Dongsal Station at 1:15 am, my home teachers were there to pick us up and they ever so kindly drove Harold back to his home in inner-city Seoul and then me to my city, about 40 minutes away. Unfortunately, I thought I knew how to get to my house but I didn’t. We made one wrong turn and I lost all navigation skills. Again, home teachers to the rescue, they offered me the spare bed in their apartment only 25 minutes away. We arrived there at 3:00am. I slept until 8:00am, then took a shower, and my home teacher took me to the nearest subway station where I took a bus home, changed clothes, and took the same bus (bus driver completed the circuit and drove back) up to church for 12pm meeting. And after that I actually spent Sunday night at a friend’s place in Seoul and went back to my apartment Monday morning.

Definition of “Long weekend.”