Korea: Back to Tsushima

We had to catch the return ferry at about 9:30. I joyfully breakfasted with Pizza Hut, though I didn't think I could handle washing it down with Mountain Dew at that time of the morning. Noguchi even took a slice--I may have converted somebody.

The group assembled in the lobby and piled onto the van. The driver, a nice guy who suddenly began speaking in Japanese we didn't know he knew, accidentally put somebody's suitcase on top of some of the donuts. Thankfully, the boxes were damaged more than the donuts themselves.

At the ferry terminal, Kim gave us each a cute little trinket and a card with her name and e-mail address. We thanked her profusely, she asked us to come back and see her, and we said goodbye. I spent most of my ride back scrawling the notes for what was to become this series of blog posts.

We arrived at Hitakatsu, the northern port of Tsushima. The customs line took about half an hour. I was carrying my backpack, a duffel bag, and my pizza. When I got to the customs dude, he asked me what I was holding. I explained what it was, opened the box, and offered him and his assistant a slice. This got a chuckle and a polite refusal.

Past customs and immigration, we assembled for a formal group farewell. I can't say for certain, but I'm pretty sure we sang what is usually our toast song.

A few people had rented a car for the trip down, but five of us opted to take the bus. As we searched for the bus timetable, I finished off the rest of my pizza, giving one of the last slices to Kazumi. We found out that we had about two hours to kill before the next bus departure, and so we had a relaxed lunch near the ferry terminal. I learned that Nagato and Mrs. Kokubu remember winters being much colder when they were children. They specifically recall waking up on winter mornings to find their laundry, left out to line-dry, frozen solid. None of them can remember that kind of cold weather occurring for years.

The trek to the bus station was mildly annoying, what with my backpack and duffel bag stuffed with omiyage. For Inocchi, who had bought a brand new suitcase in Busan ("because it's so cheap!"), it wasn't as amusing. We got on the bus and spent most of the two-and-a-half-hour trip sleeping.

I bade the group farewell at my stop, unloaded all my stuff in my apartment, and walked up to school proudly carrying my Krispy Kreme. It being a Sunday, only a handful of teachers were there, but I had planned on that. (I may love my teachers, but I wasn't about to buy and lug back five dozen just to make sure everybody got one.) Those teachers who were there happily took one each, and found it very interesting that written on the box were instructions for reheating it precisely 8 seconds.

That done, I went back home and spent the rest of the day in awe of how great the trip was. After hearing those groups perform, I wanted more than ever to be part of a group of that caliber. I don't harbor any delusions about my singing ability; as far as I'm concerned, I'm a well-practiced singer with a good ear, and who can carry a tune. While I don't think I have anywhere near the talent to audition into groups like we saw, it reminded me of how much I miss being part of a choir that takes itself more seriously than D does.