For our last dinner, Julia and I went to Outdark. Korean fried chicken is the best fried chicken, and Outdark serves up a heavily sauced bird with fried rice cakes, wedges, and fries. As a way to close my Korea chapter, we talked about the things we appreciated about each other. We drank to our positive qualities, so we got through two bottles of soju. She hoped I’d get into St. Mary’s MFA program. I did, too. And, if I didn’t, life was still good: I was young, I had paid of my student debts, I was going to Vietnam to live with two close friends, I had my website, and I had time to write.

Then we went to HQ, the most popular ex-pat bar in Busan. The spot had a big rail and a good view of the Gwangan Bridge. It was surprisingly empty considering the ball drop was in three and a half hours. One of Julia’s old co-workers had reserved a table. 10 people sat around it, so the conversation was shallow and disconnected. I had the same chat throughout the night:

Ex-Pat: Heard you’re getting out of here soon!”

Me: Yup. I’m actually leaving in less than 48 hours!”

Ex-Pat: That’s crazy! How long have you been here?”

Me: “Three years. One year in Seoul. Two in Busan.”

Ex-Pat: “Wow! How do you feel?”

Me: “Quite normal actually. I’m someone who gets the emotional hit a couple days after. I’ll probably cry on the plane.”

Ex-Pat: “Where are you going next?”

Me: “Backpacking for two months. Then moving to Vietnam.”

Ex-Pat: Where you backpacking?

Me: No idea. Haven’t decided. Probably Phillipines, but, other than that, I don’t know.

Ex-Pat: Awesome. That’s the way to do it!

Me: Yeah.

Ex-Pat: Well, good luck! If I’m ever in Vietnam, I’ll hit you up!

Me: Sure!

At 11, the bar still had no buzz. I looked around. Usually, HQ was clotted with familiar faces, red and sweaty from booze, crowding around the bar or forming chat circles. However, tonight, I barely recognized anybody. I guessed there were lots of groups from satellite cities who rented a table and room for the night. I had some friends at Gorilla Brewery, a 5-minute walk away, and, somehow, convinced most of the table to walk over there on the promise that it would be more “lit” and “hype”.

Gorilla was a big, granite hall with many wood benches. On two of them, I spotted a couple friends. Paps, a big South African dude with an even bigger personality, ran up and gave me a big hug. The only reason he wasn’t a close friend was circumstance. We both loved music and dancing. He rolled up his own cigarettes and I always asked to roll one because, first, I missed rolling, and, second, our tobacco hued talks crackled with humor and insight. Yet, we never became close. He lived far from the city, and, when he came down, he was busy with rugby or at bars I didn’t like. Sadly, this happened with lots of fellow Korean ex-pats. This was the case with Andrew, Holly, Kyle, and Kyle (I have an absurd amount of Kyles in my life), who I hugged and said bye to that night. Great people. The timing just wasn’t right.

A couple minutes before midnight, a group of us got up and went to the space in front of the DJ (not a dance floor because no one was dancing). Midnight arrived, burying the end of a decade and welcoming the 2020s, and terrible techno music farted from the speakers. I spun around, wishing people “Happy New Year.” I tried to give a random girl a hug, she offered a handshake, and I gave it a high five. As the music drilled into my skull, I apologized to the group for exposing their ears to this sonic diarrhea. We moved back to HQ. I kept knocking back beers, waiting for the entirety of the “Korea experience” to wash over me. I wanted to give this city tears. But they never came. And, when I put my head on my pillow at 5 A.M., I felt nothing but the McDonald’s and booze churning in my belly.

I woke up the next morning at 8:30. I slugged around the house, making sure I was good to go. Julia packed her Norway jackets and Bali dresses and protein bars. We talked about how, when we were young and leaving for vacation, we would say bye to our house: “Bye bedroom! Bye living room! Bye kitchen!” As I dragged my packaged life out the door, I put my bags in front of the elevator then took a long look at the nicest apartment I’d ever lived in and said, “Bye home!”

I hailed a cab for Julia, hugged her, and waved at the backseat window. Then I hopped into my own cab and headed to Kyle’s, where I was spending my last night. I had no phone data and the Internet at my place had been canceled, so I showed up at his front door unannounced. He opened his front door. His pillow had shaped his blond-tipped afro into a series of sharp angles, like a mountain range. He wished me happy New Year in a morning croak. I went in and my manic energy blew away the sleepy musk in the room. The girl he was dating sat on the stairs in her pajamas, eyeing me with a mix of confusion and fascination. I spewed unfiltered stream of consciousness, telling Kyle about my plans, my worries, and my night. Then I left to meet Nina. On the subway ride, I remembered that I needed a Visa for Vietnam, the place I was going in 16 hours. I walked into the front door with this problem. Thankfully, there were few places in the world I felt more comfortable than on her couch, and, together, we searched up options, eventually submitting to dropping 60 American bucks for someone to supposedly meet me at the airport and help me. Not great. We had a nice slice of pizza and a wonderful talk. On the way back to Kyle’s, I felt the size of the globe, and the randomness that I was currently on a subway in Busan, South Korea. As I listened to “Simple As…”, I felt connected to my high school self and my eyes watered.

Kyle’s girl was still there when I got back. I showered. I did a last minute survey of my bags and suitcases. I crossed my legs on the hardwood with my laptop heating my inner thigh and found a flight to Singapore for 70 bucks. I guess my trip was starting in Singapore! While an action movie played in the background, Kyle and I decided to meet in Cebu on the 14^th. As soon as I put my head on the pillow of the bed, I fell into negative spiral. How could I have forgotten the Visa? What if I got stuck at the airport? What if I forgot something important? What if I shouldn’t have left Korea?

At one point, I heard Kyle whisper, “Hey, I’m going to talk to Alex for a bit.” He sat at on the floor next to my bed, and, in the dark, I tried to talk through all my worries. But it didn’t help. This was not something I could think or meditate or write or talk through. I just needed to wake up and get to Vietnam.