Let us see. When last I wrote I was sleep deprived and full of medication. Since that lovely stay in the hospital many, many thing have happened.
Let's start with New Years Day. Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning I was enjoying a great evening dancing. We had started dancing at the stroke of midnight to a university band in traditional Korean dress. Surrounded by hundreds of riot cops, my friends and I found ourselves hugging Koreans and caught up in a traditional drum band dance circle. After we had our fill of dancing in the cold, we hugged a few riot cops, got a couple of pictures, and grabbed a cab.
We stopped to grab a quick kabob, the best kabob in Seoul in our opinion, and headed to one of our favorite bars to continue our dance fest. We found that the New Years celebration was in full swing and quickly made friends with some American G.I.'s on leave. Aside from one very drunk, very aggressive young man we found ourselves in good company. Having our own personal escort to part the crowds whenever we had to pee was a bit odd, but it did cut bathroom trips from a twenty minute torture into a five minute breeze. We were all agreed that this was the best New Year's any of us had ever had. And then it came on. We should have known then we were in for trouble.
What is it, you may ask. Well, there is a certain song all about how it's going to be a good night. Whenever my co-workers and I sing this song things go badly. I'm not being silly. This song has been the precursor to things like hospital trips. Our charmed New Year's was no exception. I went to get some Won out of my purse after a bathroom trip, only to find that the G.I.'s were gone and so was my purse.
Don't get the wrong idea here. Most of the guys had decided to move on to another bar and some Koreans had moved into their table. In the people shuffle a leather jacket, which belonged to one of the G.I.'s, and my purse were lost. The remaining G.I's and my wonderful friends turned the bar upside down looking for both. Both were gone.
Once it became evident that my purse was no longer, we headed home. The next day my friend Sara came over to enjoy a traditional New Year's meal. While opening a package of sausage I managed to slice open the top of my left pointer finger and the front of my middle finger. Much blood later, we realized I probably should have stitches, but having no money, ID, or phone I wrapped some band-aids around the whole mess and didn't leave my bed for the rest of the night.
When I went to get my surgery bandage changed the doctor doing the changing flipped out and insisted I get stitches on my finger. So I got my very first awake stitches. Putting a needle into a very large wound is not fun, and it gets less fun each of the three times they do it.
What followed this was two weeks of frustration over trying to get all of my purse crap replaced. Things, eventually, settled down, stitches were removed, and showers were taken without duct tape or plastic bags.
Then my boss has a meeting. Our school is shutting down at the end of February. Us foreign teachers could relocate, but they wanted us to sign a new one year contract. After a swift internal conversation I tell my boss that isn't going to happen. After a stress filled evening and morning I tell my boss I'd rather just go home. Wonder of all wonders, she says that is totally fine. I have my first contract negotiation, and it's a done deal.
So, I get all of my purse stuff replaced, look for flights, start looking for jobs, phone plans, cars, all the crap that I thought I had six more months to do. February is going to be a crazy month, but I'm ready.
OH! OH! OH! And a bar I've never been to calls my friend and tells her they have my purse and all of the stuff inside. Universe, you are such an ass sometimes.