Ending Up

Thursday morning, we awoke to cooperative weather and our last chance at sightseeing. Our plane was leaving that evening; we had the morning to see what we could see.

Mia Sorella delivered us in Gangnam, arguably the most affluent area of Seoul, with the task of finding some street food and taking a few more pictures. She once again headed for work -- and we hit the streets.

It was immediately apparent that Seoul was different here. It had been clear all week -- the city looks markedly different depending on where you are, whether it's crawling with college students or foreigners, or it's a more residential spot. In this case, we were suddenly surrounded by expensive suits and more of Seoul's trademark cleanliness ... this time with no sign of those who kept it clean.

Down a side street, we found our first market and part of lunch. I had been eyeing these fish-shaped fried somethings all week -- more out of morbid curiosity than anything -- and now was my chance. For roughly a dollar, I got three.

Turns out they're simply filled with red bean paste and fried. I liked them; Mr. Rogers was still not taken with the paste.

Further down, we got pictures of spices for sale and long stretches of tables. We were the only foreigners in sight; after our experiences in Itaewon, this felt like Seoul again.

Back on the main drag, I found myself with a new challenge: there were coffee shops everywhere. Not a Starbucks on every corner (although there were several of those), but there was no shortage of caffeine.

The Seven Monkeys started it all.

An hour and half later, I had shots of fifteen different stores, from Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts to the Seven Monkeys and this Beansbins.

Along with some cool buildings...

...Gumby's cousin...

... and a crab place.

See?

After a bit, feeling like the weary travelers we were, we headed back to the apartment. A run past the local grocery store and a ddeokbokki stand later, we finished packing and gave Mia Sorella a call to say goodbye.

It was strange, leaving. The tide was higher than when we arrived; this time, there was water under the bridge across the bay. The sun set while we waited in the airport; our trek would be almost entirely in the dark.

I didn't sleep on the plane. I wanted to -- it just didn't happen. While it may have had something to do with the man I ended up seated by (who drank heavily and was really chatty for the first couple hours, unfortunately), it could have been worse: Mr. Rogers got stuck between two kids. By the time we landed in San Francisco, we were both running on very little.

It was dark when we landed in Denver. According to our flight times, we had traversed the globe in about ten minutes. Good for us, since that also meant that normal sleeping hours were not far off. A drive to Fort Collins, a stop for a burger, and then our 40-hour day ended at the home of a friend.

While there was still a fairly hefty road trip ahead (six-ish hours for Mr. Rogers, 12-ish for me), the trip was mostly behind us. We were back on home soil, so to speak, with only a semi-familiar drive to make.

And as good as it was to be back, reality didn't seem like nearly as much fun.