Usually, if I write a blog post before bed, I feel that I've emptied my head, that thoughts I've carried with me through the day have been transferred to the printed word. I go to bed, turn out the light, close my eyes, and fade into dreams.
I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, but over the Christmas holidays, last December, I decided that I would return to reading books before going to bed. I was three books behind in my Ian Rankin reading, and so I picked up Even Dogs in the Wild, and burned through it in two weeks.
That one down, I looked for the next, Rather Be the Devil, but couldn't find it. I searched through the myriad books that DW and I have piled on the many bookshelves around the house. Rankin's books fill a couple of shelves in our living room—we've collected all of them. Even his latest, In a House of Lies, autographed from his last visit to Ottawa, was on the shelf. But his second-last book was nowhere to be found.
I can't read the latest without reading Rather Be the Devil. That would mess up the order of things.
Defeated in my search, I reached for the one book that I received for Christmas: Just Kids, by Patti Smith. It was interesting (I knew very little about Smith and even less about Robert Mapplethorpe) but as I closed the book, less than two weeks later, I realized that the book wasn't really my cup of tea. I love New York City and was attracted to the art and music scene, but I found Smith's pace a bit slow.
I searched again for the errant Rankin novel, again without success.
And so I picked up a hardcover copy of a book that I've tried to read from cover to cover, but have never seemed to get through: my own.
As soon as the final, bound copies were out, I couldn't bring myself to reading it. It was still too close to me.
I tried to read it, once, while I was working on the sequel, Gyeosunim, but only got about halfway through. But now that I am returning to Korea, now that I am reworking the draft, I thought I should commit to reading it, to refresh my memory, to remember the characters, and to familiarize myself with the South Korea of 1997 and 1998.
And so, before bed, I've been opening that book and reading for about an hour. Before I turn out the light, close my eyes, and fade into dreams.
Only, I don't dream. I think about Korea. I remember the experiences from when I arrived in Chŏnju and got used to my new job, my new surroundings, and the new culture.
I also think about my upcoming trip, in May, and this is where the Groundhog Day experience kicks in. Instead of a dream, my brain tries to imagine my arrival. I leave Ottawa on a Friday morning and take a flight that takes just over 24 hours, making stops in Toronto, Tokyo, Osaka, and finally, Seoul.
Because there will be a 13-hour time difference, I'll be touching down in Seoul at about 10:30, Saturday evening. I have a plan to help fight jet lag, so I'm hoping to be fairly alert.
It's been a long time since I've been in Seoul, nearly 20 years, but it's been even longer since I have been at Kimpo International Airport by myself. The last time was January 2, 1999. My teaching contract had ended the day before, but because DW's contract would last until the end of January, I needed to leave the Korea and re-enter the country under a tourist visa.
On a cold Saturday morning, DW and I took a bus to Seoul. But when we arrived at the Express Bus Terminal, on the south side of the Han River, DW continued, by subway, to our friend's house. I took another line in the opposite direction, to the airport.
I boarded the first flight to the nearest Japanese city, Fukuoka. As soon as the plane touched down, I went through customs, had my passport stamped, then made a 180 turn, got on the very same airplane, and returned to Seoul.
Less than three hours after I had last seen DW, we were reunited at our friend's house and I was good in Korea for another six months.
We needed just one.
So now, lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I found myself thinking of my return to Seoul, in less than four months, and my conscious mind was trying to work out the logistics of what I needed to do, once again, alone.
Once through customs, I needed to purchase some Korean currency, the won. I needed to find the subway platform (I had only taken it once before, when DW and I were meeting another teacher who was arriving to start work at our institute). I needed to figure out where to get off the train, to catch a connecting line that would take me to city hall, the closest station to my hotel.
Already, through Google street view, I have virtually walked from the subway stop to my hotel, which is so new that when I walk to its address, only an empty lot occupies the spot, the construction having barely begun.
If all goes well, I should be able to check in before midnight, Seoul time. My body's clock will think it's only 10 am.
I see myself, settling into my room, which I hope is several floors up. An extra bonus would be to face south, looking toward Namsan Tower. Once satisfied with my room, I'll grab my camera and tripod, and make my way around the corner, where Namdaemun Gate will hopefully be illuminated (it is in my imagination, as I try to fall asleep).
I list off the places that I want to see while I'm in Seoul. I've booked only two nights in this hotel, but I can try to extend my stay if necessary.
But then, as my mind thinks about Korea while trying to go to sleep, I get into a loop, where memories of past and possible future collide. I can't sleep.
Hours go by. Two o'clock. Three o'clock. Four o'clock.
I get up. I go to the washroom. I check my phone. I resist looking at the Internet and places to see in Seoul and Chŏnju. If I did, I'd never get to bed.
The following evening, as I head to bed, the process repeats itself. And again, the next night.
I haven't had a solid sleep in four days. Last night, so fatigued, I got out of bed to use the washroom. It wasn't until I was about to make my way back to bed that I realized I had walked to the bathroom without crutches or my cast.
Barefoot.
If my foot felt any pain, it didn't register with me. I hopped on one foot back to bed.
I think my novel is putting memories in my head, feeding my imaginings of what is to come with my trip. Yesterday (Monday), I had no more than two hours of rest and awoke to my alarm with a migraine. I spent the day in bed.
Fortunately, I slept solidly for much of the day. Unfortunately, I missed a day at work.
I'm going to skip reading my book before bed, will read it several hours before and will then write a blog post.
Writing about Korea, I hope I won't put more thoughts in my head.
I need to find my Ian Rankin novel.
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