Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story...*

Whew. Sorry this is going up so late, exciting things have indeed been happening, but not one of them was the excitement of my getting the Internet at home, so here I am at work, catching you lucky folks up. What follows is the account of just the travel involved in getting to the new Chez Moi in Daejeon.

At ridiculous o'clock in the morning on December 5th, 2009, P and I engaged the services of a taxi and hauled six bags plus our backpacks to O'Hare. We checked our junk with a whole hour to spare in which to lurk longingly outside shops in the concourse which weren't yet open. (Pro tip for traveler's through the United Terminal: La Brioche Doree is there to ease your weary, way-worn soul)!

Our first leg was on United from Chicago to L.A. United, friends and relations, can most diplomatically be described as aspiring to Korea's level of space utility and failing miserably. These are clearly believers in the idea that NASA's physical specs for shuttle passengers are perfect, and that since a 747 is so much smaller than a rocket, all airline passengers should likewise revise their measurements. I had never before had the occasion to feel freakishly long-femured, and I hope I never do again.

Once shoehorned out of our seats on the far side, we were treated to the exercise in frustration that is navigating LAX. LAX's international terminal's organization is all the reason you will ever need to stop believing in survival of the fittest, and start believing in the existence of a malevolent God. After all, the mentally fit do not bottleneck thousands of passengers by forcing them into a security line one abreast, which then, in the great tradition of every amusement park, snakes bowel-like through the belly of the incomplete, ugly, supremely inefficient and badly designed beast that is Terminal 5. (I could take this metaphor to the logical place regarding how you feel after you've been squeezed out the other end, but my mother is reading, so I will let you draw your own conclusions). The whole experience of the design coupled with the complete absence of any sense on the part of those directing the masses can only be explained as evidence that God wants us to be unhappy.

Let it not be said, friends and relations, that I do not appreciate what good I can find in a situation. On the inside of security at the international terminal is a See's candy store, with rank on rank of Toffee-ettes, and if that were the last of the frustration, I would put benevolent God back on the table of possibility. Alas, the tragedy is only in its middle act. From the Toffee-ettes, you must trickle through the dazed crowds exiting their security debacle to the row of gates in which an alarm whines perpetually, to the corner you will turn to discover the endless, endless hallway. There is no food on this hallway except hot dogs. You have been sent to the Special Hell.

So anyway, we escaped the Special Hell and caught our plane to Korea. We spent around 13 hours in the air racing the sun (we let it win), and at no point did I make closer acquaintance with my knees than I wanted to. Victory. Improving the trip was the very cute little girl sitting in front of us who was, miracle of miracles, extremely well behaved the whole way, and the tasty Korean food served somewhere over the Pacific. (Bibimbap, that's where it's at, people). We touched down in Korea at about 6:45 p.m. local time.

After collecting our many bags (we each got a trolley, and I learned an important lesson about inertia) we exited customs and were met by a very nice family working for the recruiter. They got us set up with bus tickets to Daejeon and gave us numbers to call and addresses to show to pertinent people to get us through. Once we seemed established enough to get in the bus rather than fall under it, they wished us well and took their 7-month old home. It was about 7:45, and we had tickets for the 8:15 bus, so P wandered off to get an airport phone (rental phones for visiting Korea, which has decided to be its own special cell phone snowflake) while I read and tried to look menacing and protective of our luggage.

Lo! Behold! We got on the right bus and three hours later, it delivered us to Government Center in Daejeon. As advertised, Mr. Lee met us and took us in an Avalon van to do a drive by sightseeing of the school, and then to my apartment. (For those who have never been to developed Asia, nothing I can say will truly convey the difference between Daejeon and anywhere I've ever been in the US. I'll give it my best shot in my impressions post, but this is really a blow-by-blow account of the trip, so I'm saving it). So sometime between 11:30 and midnight on Sunday, December 6th, I arrived home in Daejeon. And there was great rejoicing.

*First line from The Odyssey, for those not of a mind to Google.