impossible

There are a lot of people that you will meet in life that will tell you things are impossible. You might wonder why I chose these words to catapult my journey, though I am not going to explain- for the ones that are driven to explore; driven to push boundaries; driven to live and learn more about themselves than they ever thought they could- are the ones who will understand.

“The simplicity of a fish jumping out of water or the pull of ships horn has enough light to guide this vessel through any weather.”

I left Seoul just as the rain crashed the party without invitation like your drunken father at your 12^th birthday; or when you have the house to your gf and yourself and your mom unexpectedly comes home- though this time I was prepared. I threw on my raincoat and tightened the rain cover straps over my bag that was already tied down to my bike, and I left the Chinese  restaurant after 30 minutes of workers ping-ponging helpful directions to a destination I wasn’t even searching- note to self *never ask for directions in a room of more than 1 person.

I battled though Friday traffic in one of the world’s most vehicle infested cities and didn’t emerge until I was over 100km deep, cursing the creator of the combustion engine and twats that installed the unsynchronized lights. I know where I am but pouring rain and traffic force me to change route instead of the number 1 highway I intended on riding. I ended up fighting through unknown roads which would have been welcomed had it not been the beginning of my journey and the rain. I simply just wanted to cover ground. After stopping at a handful of GS25’s and 7-11’s and confused conversation amongst random convenience stores and hamburger shop workers I finally get myself on track heading south along the west coast .

 Now mind you I’m on a motorcycle and laughed off the rain and traffic, but I have just entered plague country- a black mist litters the sky as millions of forefinger sized chamjarees (dragonflies) dip and dive across the expressway. Birds patiently line the side of the road and take turns gorging on the buffet of lifeless bugs that have been hit along the commute.

Since I was riding at the same speed as the blinding insects I felt as if I could reach out and grab a handful. If I had a frog riding passenger it could have slashed its tongue in every which direction and reeled in a winged treat.

With my mouth shut and shades covering my eyes I could only avoid so many before they started pounding my bike, face and chest- with a force double that of being still I am in wonder how they didn’t crack my glasses. As they thumped my chest and barren legs it left short stinging sensations- sometimes they would land upon my lap and I would have to throw them off my their lifeless wings.

On two occasions it got wedges between my helmet and ear and the buzzing and wriggling of its broken wing sent me into frenzy as I forcefully pulled over my bike and threw off my helmet all in one motion. This routine lasted through three districts and over 60 km- I don’t know where the fuck they were headed but it must have been one hell of a party.

I pulled my bike over once I saw the familiar giant fluorescent E that attracts customers like swarming bugs.

Leaving work at 230 I didn’t reach Boryeong until 730 where I stopped at the Emart to pick up dinner for the night. The coasts of Korea are home to an undesirable amount of fish restaurants which is why I ended up at a supermarket for dinner.

There is something about supermarkets that give me energy- it might be the increased flow of oxygen or perhaps the women in miniskirts dancing in the frozen food isles; but it all leads to me shouting at deli workers who are singing the nights discounts and flirting with the bakery women. Boryeong Emart wasn’t any different. A group of middle aged women asked me questions about my trip and modelled for a few photos.

After checking out I heard yelps from the interior walkway- it was dog-lockers! Yes… dog-lockers!