I left for my trip back to the states on May 7th. Wasting no time, Tim's ship the USS Shiloh got underway the following day. When I returned to Japan on June 6th, Tim was still out to sea, a fact that made for a very lonely homecoming. When you marry someone in the military or an equally intense occupation, you know what you are getting yourself into...or at least you should. From my personal experience, the forced time apart from a military spouse does not set a foundation for the a conventional marriage. Conventionally, so the story goes, you get married and you spend the rest of your life together....for better and for worse....in sickness and in health....day in and day out...until death do us part. Well I suspect that when military spouses are apart, that falls under the "for better and for worse" headline. Because spending a consecutive amount of time away from someone you love is definitely not the better part of a marriage. Now I readily admit that there our far worse situations than ours. But none the less, the bottom line is that being away from your spouse is far from ideal.
Needless to say, that when I received an email from Tim that they had a pending port call near, I jumped at the opportunity to meet him. Not only was I quickly losing my sanity having spent almost two months apart, but, as always, I am itching to visit some place new.
Busan, South Korea
June 27-30, 2012
The morning of June 27th, I woke up at 4:10am to start my trek to South Korea. It would take me no less than 2.5 hours to get to Narita Airport by train and my flight left at 10:30am. I quickly showered and got dressed while serenaded by the crying cats in the garden next door. By 5:15am, I had my things gathered and I started a leisurely walk to the train station to meet my 5:40am train. Somehow, I managed to stay awake on the train (far from par for the course for this gal), arriving alert and ready to find my connecting train in Yokohama. My how quiet the normally bustling Yokohama station was so early in the morning! Without even merely bumping into or having to dodge a single person, I snaked my way from the Sotetsu Line to the JR train line. Finding the correct kiosk, I mustered a tired semi smile and asked the lady for a ticket for the Narita Express. She quickly whipped up a sheet of train times and pointed to the appropriate time and cost. I paid. Got my ticket. And was well on my way to Track 10 to catch my adventure out of Japan. As I stood at the platform waiting the arrival of the 6:15am Narita Express, out of shear boredom, I decided to check my email for the 100th time that morning. Well to my surprise, I had an email from Expedia with the subject line reading, "Expedia may have made a mistake with your travel plans. Contact us immediately."
As shear panic paralyzed my body, I quickly searched for the correct number to call. As I was on hold, I felt the money hemorrhaging from my pockets. Gotta love expensive international calls! Finally, a friendly English speaker answered the phone and inquired as to why I was calling. With little trace of friendliness in my voice, I recounted my story and the email in hopes she would respond that there is no problem with my flight and to proceed as planned. No such luck. Either Expedia or Japan Airlines made a mistake and there actually was never a 10:30am flight scheduled (although I received conflicting stories as the day grew on). The only flight out of the day was 3:30pm. Would I like to rebook this flight? Quite perturbed, I answered yes. Nonetheless, she must first call JA and make sure they have room for me. Would I like to hold? Only if she was going to send me a lump sum of cash to reimburse me for my expensive call! No, please call me back. Well as we hung up, with my new flight still not officially booked, I heard the familiar howl of my arriving train. Awesome. Not only did I not have a flight for the day, the lady was to call me back during a two hour train ride where talking on the phone is prohibited. I was now forced to make the decision: Do I take the train to the airport so I can talk to someone in person to figure out all of my options, or do I trust the Expedia employee to rebook me for the 3:30pm flight and turn around and go home for a few more hours of sleep? Potentially miss my flight? Fat chance. I boarded that train and off I went to Narita.
A few minutes into my ride, an announcement came over the train reminding passengers that if it was absolutely necessary to talk on the phone, you must go to the end of the cars to do so. Well, as luck would have it, my phone rang right as the Ticket Police came by to make sure I was in the right seat (of course I was!). I missed my phone call. As soon as I could, I stayed in my seat and called Expedia (incorrigible gaijin (foreigner)!). Trying to forget the details as soon as I could, I am not sure how many phone calls it took or Expedia employees I had to yet again inform to figure out what my travel plan would entail for the day, but ultimately, as we neared my stopped, I was confirmed on the 3:30pm flight.
So there I was, at Narita Airport at 8:00am with seven hours to kill until my flight. I did my due diligence and wondered from terminal two to one in search of an early flight but to no avail. Luckily for me, Narita has two malls (or more appropriately miniature halls with kiosks), one in each terminal. Within an hour of arriving at the airport, I had scoured both "malls" and eaten breakfast. It was time to find a place to settle and to relax.
As shear panic paralyzed my body, I quickly searched for the correct number to call. As I was on hold, I felt the money hemorrhaging from my pockets. Gotta love expensive international calls! Finally, a friendly English speaker answered the phone and inquired as to why I was calling. With little trace of friendliness in my voice, I recounted my story and the email in hopes she would respond that there is no problem with my flight and to proceed as planned. No such luck. Either Expedia or Japan Airlines made a mistake and there actually was never a 10:30am flight scheduled (although I received conflicting stories as the day grew on). The only flight out of the day was 3:30pm. Would I like to rebook this flight? Quite perturbed, I answered yes. Nonetheless, she must first call JA and make sure they have room for me. Would I like to hold? Only if she was going to send me a lump sum of cash to reimburse me for my expensive call! No, please call me back. Well as we hung up, with my new flight still not officially booked, I heard the familiar howl of my arriving train. Awesome. Not only did I not have a flight for the day, the lady was to call me back during a two hour train ride where talking on the phone is prohibited. I was now forced to make the decision: Do I take the train to the airport so I can talk to someone in person to figure out all of my options, or do I trust the Expedia employee to rebook me for the 3:30pm flight and turn around and go home for a few more hours of sleep? Potentially miss my flight? Fat chance. I boarded that train and off I went to Narita.
A few minutes into my ride, an announcement came over the train reminding passengers that if it was absolutely necessary to talk on the phone, you must go to the end of the cars to do so. Well, as luck would have it, my phone rang right as the Ticket Police came by to make sure I was in the right seat (of course I was!). I missed my phone call. As soon as I could, I stayed in my seat and called Expedia (incorrigible gaijin (foreigner)!). Trying to forget the details as soon as I could, I am not sure how many phone calls it took or Expedia employees I had to yet again inform to figure out what my travel plan would entail for the day, but ultimately, as we neared my stopped, I was confirmed on the 3:30pm flight.
So there I was, at Narita Airport at 8:00am with seven hours to kill until my flight. I did my due diligence and wondered from terminal two to one in search of an early flight but to no avail. Luckily for me, Narita has two malls (or more appropriately miniature halls with kiosks), one in each terminal. Within an hour of arriving at the airport, I had scoured both "malls" and eaten breakfast. It was time to find a place to settle and to relax.
A beer has never tasted so good! My emotions and anger were quieted. I was calmed with the big picture in mind: I would get to Busan to see Tim, even if it was seven hours later than planned.
When I arrived at the airport, I decided to take a direct cab to my hotel. Knowing that it was about an hour away, I was reassured by the cheap prices in South Korea. I chose a cab driver and asked him to take me to the Novotel Ambassador on Haeundae Beach. He seemed to have no qualms with that and we got on our way. He spoke little English but enough to carry on some sort of conversation. As we drove out of the airport, he told me that the direct route was congested with traffic and asked if it was ok to take the highway. Sure I said, not knowing differently. But as the cab ride drew on and I saw no directional signs for Haeundae or signs of civilization, the paranoid Claire in me got concerned. Was this going to be the end for me? I said "Beach?" And he, supposedly reassuring me, said "Yes to the beach." Finally, an hour later, we saw water and he pointed emphatically and cried, "Beach!"
It turned out that Tim had watch the day I arrived anyway. Since I did not get to the hotel until 7:00pm, and he had a reception on the USS George Washington (the carrier), we chose to wait until the next morning to get together. So, as Tim enjoyed his first beer in months with the South Korean and American Navies, I enjoyed my free happy hour in the Executive Lounge of the hotel. With free cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, and a view of the beach in front of me, I finally felt that I was on the vacation I was anticipating.
After happy hour, I ventured out into town. I found a slimy market swimming with eels and other fresh seafood. How it managed to peak my appetite is beyond me, but craving pizza (the one dish I could not find on my seven hour hiatus in the airport), I found an Italian restaurant boasting pizza and wine. As I wandered up the 3 stories to my Italian haven, I heard the familiar sounds of Americans. I sat looking out the window overlooking the street and our hotel having a nice relaxing dinner to myself surrounded by the usual expletives of sailors on liberty. I ordered pizza and sangria. Neither of which they had. I settled for Carbonara and a glass of red wine. Full and exhausted from my day, I decided to turn in around 10:00pm in anticipation of seeing Tim in the morning.
Tim showed up in the hotel around 9:30am the next morning. We waisted no time venturing out of the hotel. We immediately grabbed a cab and headed for the International Market. We had shopping to do! Wandering around town, it was quite obvious that Americans had infiltrated Busan. Not only were the Navy ships in town, but there was also a Lions Club Convention at our hotel. Not quite the Korean experience I had anticipated.
Once in the market, famished, we immediately found comfort in food. At the opening of the market, we stumbled upon an Indian Restaurant. I must quickly make a disclaimer that I hope you foodies will just as quickly graze over: we did not eat Korean food while in town as Tim found all Korean food aromas nauseating.
Nice mustache you say? We will get to that....
While in the market, I found a Tory Burch knock off bag that I really liked. I walked into the store to get a closer look and the salesman immediately approached asking where I was from. As the typical conversation goes:
Salesman: "You from America?"
Me: "Yes, I am from America."
Salesman: "Where in America?"
Me: "Kentucky."
Salesman: "Kentucky Fried Chicken! I love Kentucky Fried Chicken."
Me: "Me too!"
But this particular salesman knew more than most...
Salesman: "You watch basketball?"
Me: "Yes, I love Kentucky basketball."
And at that point, I felt that we were getting a little too close. So I wandered up the street to find Tim. However, hours later, I still had that bag in mind. Somehow, through the labyrinth that was the market, we found the same store that was holding my bag hostage. As I walked in, I was greeted by, "Oh Kentucky! You want bag?"
And I got my bag, talking him down to a price I felt comfortable spending for a fake purse. However, I could not decide which color I liked best. Consulting Tim (which he typically does not enjoy), I asked which color her preferred. Black was his answer. So as I continued to hem and haw and try on each back, I told my KY friend that I didn't know which color I wanted. He immediately grabbed the black one and said, "Your husband Pick. This!" And that was that. Ultimately, we spent most of our two free days in shopping markets. And I didn't mind one bit!!!
Our Hotel
The West Korea Strait outside our hotel.
I got my toes in the water... The boys were warned not to swim in international waters as they are typically polluted three times that of American waters. But I had to at least say I put my feet in the water of the West Korea Strait.
Our hotel: Novotel Ambassador Hotel on Haeundae Beach
The Mustache
For those of you that have yet to hear my diatribe on the mustache, here goes: The boys grow a mustache on the ship (or during Mustachuary (mustache February) or Mustache March or whatever reason they can find). I had overheard other wives discussing the mustache and how their husbands knew that the mustache was not to appear during port calls or while in their home. Tim, however, did not get that memo.
I suppose we will give Tyler a break, as Miss Anna was not there.
However, I decided if you can't beat them, join them. Exhibit A: the picture above of me in front of the hotel. If he got to wear a mustache around town, why couldn't I?
A Day with Friends... in South Korea?
It is random enough to run into people you know while out in about in Japan. But add South Korea to the mix and you know your lifestyle has changed significantly. Since the GW (affectionately know as the G Dubbs) was in port as well, we spent Friday with Tyler, Kyle and some of the HS-14 friends.
For lunch, we headed to a restaurant called Mad for Garlic. Who could get mad at that?
After lunch, we cabbed it over to Texas Street, a shady market looking to make money off the US Navy.
This yellow sign says "Shopping Area for Foreigners"
Here, Tyler talks the salesman down on his price so he can, free of conscience, buy his Mink (Made In Korea) blanket. Few leave South Korea without one. Tim's is zebra print.
Around Town
Below are pictures of Busan. I apologize because most of them were taken from a cab and are not the best pictures. Busan is a town nestled in criss-crossing mountains that could easily slide into the ocean without a moment's notice. Many people asked me why I wanted to go to Busan. Other than the facts that I hadn't seen Tim in two months and that I had never been to South Korea, why wouldn't I want to go? Apparently, the general population of American expats believes that Busan is not an enticing town worthy of vacation. However, it is the number one beach destination for South Koreans and the top international port in South Korea. Who can snub their nose at that?
As we drove around, it amazed me to see how uniform the architecture was on such expansive apartment complexes. Everything looked relatively similar until you got near the beach. There, glass skyscrapers glistened next to the meandering waterways towards the strait.
Food Market
What appears to be multiple forms of Kimchi, a traditional Korean dish of fermented vegetables and spices.
On Thursday night, Tim's first night off the boat, we had dinner at the Ventanas Grill Steak and Seafood. The restaurant is located in our hotel and is the nicest restaurant in Busan. I had scallops and Tim had a steak.
Afterwards, we went next door to the Paradise Hotel and Casino where we met the Captain of Tim's ship as well as others in the downstairs bar. To our delight, a great Filipino band was playing (very reminiscent of our night with the Filipino band in China, Lisa!). As the rest of the group left to meet their curfew on the ship, Tim and I stayed to enjoy the band. Of course, when it comes to requests, the first I ever make is Dolly Parton. So Tim wrote down a few Dolly classics and took it up to the band. Several songs later, as Tim was at the bar refilling our beverages, the band started to play "I Will Always Love You." I, naturally, get quite excited. The lead singer looked at me and inquired, "Where is your partner?" I point to the bar and she demanded, "He needs to dance with you!" So, upon Tim's return, we proceeded to joyously dance to a little Dolly Parton sung by Filipinos in a South Korean bar. Does it get much better than that?
Tim had to return to the ship by midnight on Friday. So after a great day on Texas Street, we had happy hour in the Executive Lounge and then Tim walked next door to meet his bus back to the ship. I ordered room service and ate as I watched the night time action on the beach. I was in bed by 11:00pm in hopes to wake up on time for my 5:00am cab to the airport. No glitches on the way back. I was back at our local train station by 1:00pm on Saturday. My friend Brittany and her dog Beretta met me at the station to walk me home and complete the walk through of the house. No break ins. Nothing out of place. I was home sweet home.
