me in the piazza

I'm a writer, publishing both as SJ Rozan and, with Carlos Dews, as Sam Cabot. (I'm Sam, he's Cabot.) Here you can find links to my almost-daily blog posts, including the Saturday haiku I've been doing for years. BUT the blog itself has moved to my website. If you go on over there you can subscribe and you'll never miss a post. (Miss a post! A scary thought!) Also, I'll be teaching a writing workshop in Italy this summer -- come join us!
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Inauspicious beginning

Got sick the morning I left. I mean, the kind of sick that if I told you what kind of sick it would be TMI. But made it to the airport, zipped through security after a false start: I chose the shortest line but they kicked me off it because it was the regular line and I was going biz class, so I had to go to the privileged person's line, which was longer.

Anyway, on to the biz class lounge, where I recovered enough to get on the plane. I stretched out in biz class (not flat beds, but close enough for the likes of me), had a cup of tea, napped, read my Mongolia study materials, and was actually ready to nibble by the time they started feeding us. I had the Japanese choices, because after all I was going to Asia, though I was in Japan like a whole hour and a half. Had some anxiety about the flight to Seoul because at Newark they wouldn't give me a ticket, told me I'd get it at the Tokyo airport. I only had 45 mins. from getting off the first plane to boarding the second, so I was worried that if something went wrong I wouldn't have time to get it resolved. As it was, nothing went wrong: the two airlines were even in the same terminal, so I was golden.

Flight to Seoul, barely 2 hours, was fine, only I was sitting next to the world's most talkative soldier, returning to his base from a leave back home in Texas. Yakety yak, I'm tellin' ya. At Seoul airport, not only was someone waiting for me, but it was Mr. Han himself, with whom I'd had the embarassing misunderstanding about my reservation at his guesthouse. He felt so bad about it he came all the way to the airport to pick me up! Which of course made me feel worse, but I didn't tell him that because then he'd feel worse, and then I'd feel worse... Someone had to draw the line.

One of my pals was here when I got here, so we went for a walk in the neighborhood, followed and interesting path through people's gardens, and promptly got lost. Finally, with the help of some locals, got found, came back, and another pal (my roommate) had arrived. We hung around, went to bed, slept like rocks.

Which I'm about to do again. I'll tell you about today's noodle soup breakfast, the palace, and the shaman, tomorrow.

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