My first reaction after stepping off the plane and peering out a window: thank god people are driving on the right side of the road again! Japan left me feeling genuinely terrified several times that we were turning into oncoming traffic.
On a side note, one welcome surprise upon touching down at
Incheon (the city in which Seoul's main airport is located) is that my Sprint phone gets service here! While calls are probably ungodly expensive, at least my phone clock will be kept in sync with local time, and I'll have a good backup in case of an emergency. (It turns out this is all thanks to my dad's efforts to identify the best service options from Sprint.)
In any case, my first experience in Korea, while not comparable to the morning's excitement (more on that later), was a frustrating one. As I rounded the corner into Immigration, I anticipated a smooth, well-oiled operation like the one I had experienced in Japan. But despite my stupid American tendency to stereotype all Asian cultures as identical, the differences between Japan and Korea were almost immediately evident. I was greeted by a long, slow line at immigration with no English speakers to be found. After ten minutes, the line moved forward only because a new one had opened and Japanese travelers were wise enough to escape the one I stood in to fill the other, desperate to believe that nothing could be less efficient than their present situation.
They were right. Another ten minutes later, their line has processed six people, while mine has shortened only thanks to a gradual but continuous exodus of weary travelers abandoning my queue for the clearly superior alternative. People who had been standing behind me were undoubtedly checking into their hotel rooms by now. Folks from other flights arriving had picked up on the trend, and soon, the other line was longer than mine. I started to doubt my own capacity to learn from past mistakes. Nevertheless, I held fast, hopelessly hopeful that other people in front of me would give up first. My strategy worked well, but the same person who must be declaring a nuclear warhead radio-controlled by Kim
Jong Il himself was still standing in front of our much maligned customs official. (I can't say for certain that the other passengers were actually insulting this public servant, as nothing being said was in English, but the jeers and sarcastic tone that immediately preceded a line switch seem to confirm this theory.)
Eventually, the line began to move at a reasonable pace, and for a brief moment, I suspected I may get out of the airport before my scheduled flight to Taiwan departed a week later. Regrettably, the tourist two spots ahead of me was apparently trying to bring twenty tons of botulism into the country on behalf Bin Laden himself, and the waiting game resumed.
I finally made it to the counter, where my review required a grand total of 25 seconds. I suppose being American is good for something -- nobody suspects you of being a terrorist or trying to steal their jobs. (I might point out that this experience is far from universal. A large group of my compatriots, arriving several hours later, were processed with no notable delay.)
Just to underscore the egregiousness of the wait, though, when I finally emerged from customs, my flight was no longer listed on the baggage claim sign, as all other passengers had already retrieved their luggage.
The "limousine bus" to the hotel was a much better experience. Though not nearly as organized and orderly as its Japanese counterpart,
KAL Limo Service was timely, comfortable, and served water to passengers in something like the single-serve applesauce containers found in the States.
The only real gripe I have is not with the bus service but rather with the legion of slimy let's-make-a-deal
cabbies in the area who were much more expensive and clearly targeting what they thought was a rich white American. They lost interest as soon as I told them I was a student. In any case, I'd better hold onto my wallet!
Labels: airports, korea
