My Summer in Seoul

Chapter Two

Surrounded

Grace

It was raining. Actually it was more of a torrential downpour that immediately made me homesick. I could almost smell the Seattle air.

It had to be a good omen, right? I had left rain only to land in rain; everything was going to be one hundred percent fine!

I waited impatiently for my turn and breathed a sigh of relief when I was able to step out into the aisle.

Nerves crashed over me as I grabbed my black Nike backpack and threw it on over my white hoody, thankful I'd packed something warm in my carry on so that I didn't freeze in the rain, the last thing I needed was to get sick before I even started the internship.

My leggings were sticking to my legs, and it didn't help that my feet felt swollen in my gray Allbirds shoes. But none of that could be helped.

Did anyone actually look good after eleven hours on a plane?

Plane sweat was a real thing, and I had a thin layer of it all over my body.

I made a face and quickly adjusted my clearly dyed light blond hair in the messy bun then stepped into the aisle and walked toward the door.

This was it.

My adventure was officially starting.

I ignored the way my heart pounded as I trekked from the plane to the gate. I don't know what I was expecting—maybe for culture shock so strong that I'd freeze up—but it didn't come, the paralyzing fear.

In fact, everything just looked...

Normal.

Like an airport would.

Lots of people, lots of cell phones out, and announcements over the PA that had me feeling oddly like I hadn't landed in a different country but in a place just like home.

That feeling lasted for a total of five seconds.

Until I made my way toward baggage claim.

This wasn't a normal airport.

Not at all.

It was insane.

Breathtaking.

High tech, forward moving, busy.

Clean with a stark white design that screamed expensive and modern.

I gaped as I walked, looking every inch the tourist; all I needed was to pull out my phone and start snapping pictures. I held in a snort as I thought of Mom's fanny pack—yeah, that would be a dead giveaway, wouldn't it?

I turned in a slow, tight circle as I finally made it to baggage claim. Everything was so bright and big, like the actual airport was a sculpture of pure genius architecture.

With a giant grin on my face, I found myself at baggage claim studying the various sign bearers for Siu. Dad said he would be at the airport waiting for me in baggage claim—he followed that with a ridiculously long speech about prostitution rings in foreign countries and a reminder that Ted Bundy was good-looking too. I patted him on the head and yet again reminded him that I had survived at UW and knew not to take drinks from strangers, always have a buddy at every party, and make sure the Uber driver isn't a serial killer.

I kept looking at the signs; they were all in both Korean and English, which was a small blessing, so at least I knew I was in the right place.

My mental process felt extremely slow as I searched for my name on the signs some of the drivers were holding. Would it be spelled in English? Korean? And at what point did I need to just text him and ask where he was? I had his cell number for emergencies. I chewed my lower lip and pulled out my cell just as the sound of my name rang out.