Stick it to me

Using an old apartment building:

Take one small dark room, illuminate with spinning, flashing lights and heat with seven or eight cheap Korean beers per serving. Circle the room with bench seating, insert active monitors and a pair of microphones on one wall and let simmer. Your classic Korean karaoke noraebong should now be ready for use.

Stir in one Irishman, one Korean, two Canadians, an American, a German and a pair of Aussies belting out "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and you have a disaster in international harmonizing and one hell of a good time!

After the Superbowl Brian and I settle into a comfortable life in Seoul and the days begin to roll by. We spend the week sporadically together and apart as one activity seems to lead to another for each of us. Wednesday we mark the Lunar New Year by visiting GyeongPok palace where a traditional Korean drum performance is going on. The particpants include a number of small children which stand precariously atop the shoulders of the dancing men as they build human pyramids and dazzle us with spinning hat ribbons. For three days the city shuts down and we find ourselves enjoying some free site seeing and plenty of down time.

After the holiday I decide to tackle one remaining chore. I am in need of a Hepatitus B booster to protect me for the next six months so with some directions from Ms. Kim I head toward Youinido Hospital. As the elevator doors open to the primary reception area my senses are overloaded by a teeming mass of people, dinging bells, wheelchairs, nurses and a volume level only a room full of excited Koreans could create. There have been few times thus far where I truly felt my nerve faltering, but combine this seemingly chaotic, energetic mismatch of expectations with my natural anxiety about being injected with anything and I nearly give up on the spot.

Steeling myself, I enter the room seeking signs of familiarity to fit my preconcieved standards. Despite a lack of English anything I begin to find the pattern to the madness and integrate myself with the cogs of this complex but effectively running system. I fork over some cash and am sent from one place I can not find to another, talk to several pleasant Korean speaking people in white coats and am eventually led to the only place in the hospital with English posted over the door, the "Injection Room". I walk in prematurely and with a Korean nurse excitedly asking me to wait outside am confronted with a terrifying image of beds filled with moaning people and screaming kids, many with hanging IVs feeding their outstretched arms. Ultimately, I spend $50, am injected with something, stir up some emotional baggage and leave with shaky legs.

In retrospect, despite the entire process being somewhat non-supportive to foreigners, and taking me almost 3 hours, the hospital was a clean, well run facility and I do believe they gave me the right shot from a sharp, sterile needle.

I would also like to say thanks to Brian for giving me a much needed hug afterwards.