It was a strange feeling on the morning of Saturday, Sept 1st. Well, not so much of a strange feeling but more that there was no feeling at all – I was due to fly to Korea in only a few hours, leaving my home, my family, girlfriend, friends and pets for a whole year and yet I felt nothing…if not a flood of guilt at the realisation of this.
I hadn't really had any real influx of emotion to this point at all – I mean, yeah I'd had a cry or two with Hayley but not the 'holy fuck what am I doing' feeling that I had expected; of course it HAD to hit me on the day of departure, I reasoned. Nobody could be that emotionally detached.
But alas, as I said goodbye to Kealie and Brett at my house (that'd be my adopted siblings as opposed to the pets) and to Simba and Pumbaa (yup – they're the pets) I felt nothing. As I finally picked up my suitcase and we started driving to Heathrow, with Hayley periodically sobbing at the wheel – I felt nothing more than compassion for her, but no grievance at my leaving. And as I had my last beer with Adam and Matt, checked in my suitcase, shot some terrorists (time crisis, naturally – though I am amazed with the level of security in airports these days that they even still allow a game with guns, bombs and terrorists!) and then finally joined the queue for security, still I felt relatively numb.
Don't get me wrong – it was one of the most horrible sights that I have ever had to endure, watching my girlfriend crying her eyes out, knowing that it's my fault she's so upset, and yet I was still walking away from her (my one saving grace was that both Adam and Matt were there to comfort her – I'm not sure I could've kept walking otherwise). But still – though I felt torn at leaving Hayley. I had yet to develop any feelings toward my own departure, either positive or negative.
The flight there was long, tiring but amazingly nice. I had eleven hours of it to endure but it was made all the easier by my own little TV and films starting whenever I wanted, a gorgeous dinner and breakfast and free wine all the way. Not to mention the emergency 'stretch out as much as possible' exit seats and cabin crew who genuinely seemed to want nothing more than to serve me (this was something I came to learn was quite a common aspect in the service industry here – quite apart from what I'm used to in the UK!)
When I finally arrived in Incheon airport, I breathed a (very musty and humid) sigh of relief, and stumbled very groggily into the baggage collection area. Seemingly only 3 or so hours later I had my (incredibly small for a years' stay, if I'm honest) suitcase and I was on my way…to the check in desk again. Time for flight number two.
I finally arrived in Busan at around 9pm local time, after a total of around twenty hours from leaving Heathrow. I was jet lagged, very tired, and couldn't breathe properly through the thick humidity of the air. Luckily for me, my school had dispatched an incredibly helpful co-teacher of mine by the name of Mrs Jang (who would turn out to be about one of the most helpful people that I have ever met) to pick me up.
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