8 or so in the morning, pre people, with the office lights still darkened, is my favourite time in the office. It's a bubble of serene, undulated, heavenly bliss in a world of cacophony and phonies and phone calls and paperwork and papier maches and shouting and whining and complaining and griping and human woes.
I will sit here, I whispered to myself, as always, and I will savour the taste of my black coffee and think a bit about life and where this is all going. I had a slightly depressing conversation with Pris last night. I like her a lot, but, you know - my life is what I make of it, nothing more, nothing less. She reminded me of how fast the years and days and months go by, how it's like a race against time, and for a moment I agreed with her, but then I remembered what I was doing this time last year and how I'd spent the past 12 months, and what I was doing two years ago this time, and then three years ago, and I thought - no - you're wrong - it's not been going by that fast. I have crammed more living, intentionally and/or otherwise, into the past few years than most people have. I've grown a lot in those past years, and I'm a little older now, but far more comfortable with who I am than I ever was in my very early twenties. I've met countless people and gone to so many different countries and had so many different experiences. I've fallen in love with people, and been fallen in love with. I have madly adored people, and had people madly adore me. I've smelt the damp muddy smell of thunderstorms in Prague and Krakow and I've gotten drunk on too many occasions with wonderful people and fallen asleep in the hostel living room, and woken up the next day dazed and parched and feeling like heaven and hell. I've sat in numerous buses and watched the alpines roll away beneath me and the Austrian sun that Mozart gazed upon, rise above me as I left the city whence he was born.
Gamcheon. There was a main road which seemed to lead down to the Tsushima Strait, and I was under the impression that if I followed that road, I would be able to see the sea.
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| You can distinctly see the sea in the distance here |
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| Again, the sea in the distance, which was where I was trying to get to |
I walked down. It was very steep, and extremely hot, and after about 10 minutes of walking I completely lost sight of the sea, and began to rethink my plans, however it was far too steep for me to retrace my steps back to the Gamcheon village bus station, so I walked to the other side of the road and caught a bus there back to Toseong and returned to Nampo, again, and returned to nice comfy air-conditioned Lotte Department Store to do some more shopping for the fam.
My weekend in Busan is drawing to a close and that makes me quite happy.
One more entry to go. I might do a wrapup but not sure if I will. There's not a whole lot to say about Busan that hasn't already been said. Europe this sure ain't but of course. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Europe has been and always will be, the great love of my life. I didn't meet anyone interesting in Busan this time round, just a bunch of boring and unattractive Taiwanese older women. Same questions, same old answers, same predictable fucking process. Isn't that the case more and more as you grow older? I remember Europe last autumn, another lifetime away. There were so many lost people there on the road. No, you will not find yourself by travelling. Travelling is an end, not a means. You will not magically find the formula to the secret of life just by being a pseudo hippy and staying in cheap hostels and going to hostel raves and wearing harem pants and shit. In Noel Gallagher's words, you can't keep having the same fucking conversation in the kitchen about David Icke and pyramids and shit. For fuck's sake I'm only in my mid twenties, why does it feel like I'm so much older? When you're younger you look at the world with a fresher pair of eyes.
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