Now that I am in my late twenties or possibly early thirties, I feel like I have come to know myself quite well. Of course, like just about all humans, my tastes and ideas about the world still change and evolve over time. But overall I think that I “get” my “whole vibe,” as we young millennials like to say. Last week, for example, while I was holed up in quarantine, I feel like my knowledge about myself and my surroundings was really put to the test, and I believe that I passed with flying colours.
I had been shipped to a standard Korean apartment furnished with nothing more than a mattress and some bread. But I did not fret. I am comfortable in my own company, and I believe I have the fortitude to get by with very little. So for the first few hours in my barren quarters I enjoyed pretending I was imprisoned like in the Count of Monte Cristo, rationing my food supplies and longing for a chair to sit in. But by the second day I became bored. I was out of supplies, stuffed with bread, and lamenting my poor rationing skills. My only reprieve from the boredom was the tiny spot in the far right corner of my wide window. If I held my phone there, I learned, I could tap into the city’s free wifi and connect to the internet. I couldn’t do this for long, unfortunately, because it meant I had to open up the window’s inner panel, which let the cold in. As an older young person, I know myself well enough to know that I don’t enjoy being cold. Nevertheless I spent a lot of time in those first few days crouched against the cold window, studying the map of my neighbourhood. At that point I had three different maps installed – Google Maps, Kakao Maps, and Naver Maps – and I would jump between them trying to get a better idea of what was going on around me. Having lived in Korea before, I knew precisely what to look for. I learned where the nearest grocery store was, as well as the location of the local Daiso. I found Olive Youngs and Mom’s Touches and even a No Brand. I tried to figure out where the nearest gyms were, as well as the location of my school. Before long, I had my surrounding area committed to memory. I was confident in myself and ready to face the world.
At the moment, the covid situation in Korea is not good. Many people are in quarantine, and medical services just cannot keep up with it all. In the past, I understand, people in quarantine would have food parcels delivered to them. But now, with not enough staff to conduct deliveries, those of us in quarantine were being allowed out to buy our own supplies. So on that Tuesday, I was given the go-ahead to leave my apartment to buy supplies for myself. I first had to log my intentions on my quarantine app, saying how long I would be out. According to the map, which at this point had been stored in my mind palace, it would be about a fifteen-minute walk to Home Plus. I’d generously give myself an hour to shop, and then another fifteen minutes to get back to the apartment. That put the whole trip at 90 minutes. More than what I needed. I logged my details and got ready to leave the apartment.
For the first time in days I donned multiple layers of clothing. In my first day in quarantine I had witnessed snow falling outside, so I needed protection from the elements. I gathered my backpack and wallet, and snuck out of my apartment. Even though this was a government-sanctioned trip, I still felt like I was out of bounds.
It was late evening when I got outside. Even though the city was new to me, I was back in a country that I knew well. I felt confident, and without hesitation I turned left and began walking up the road towards Home Plus. I knew I was leaving my trusty wifi zone, so I wouldn’t be able to check my map. But this didn’t concern me because I had it all memorized.
There was a lot to absorb. There seemed to be an endless array of coffee shops and pharmacies and curious eateries. I tried taking note of the stores in my area, and possible running paths, and how frequent the taxis were. I was also freezing. A soft snow had begun falling again, adding weight to my eyelashes and soaking my mask. I didn’t hate this. Falling snow is such a novel experience for me that I still get a lot of joy from it. I knew the Home Plus was about four blocks away, but I lost count of the number of intersections I had crossed because of the cold and because I was looking around too much. Occasionally I would stop to see if I could pick up any wifi on my phone in order to locate myself on the map, but the cold meant I could only bring my phone out for about a minute at a time. Eventually, after crossing a second large intersection and coming to a large construction site, I came to a jarring realization about myself – I cannot read maps. I didn’t feel anger at this epiphany; only resigned acceptance, like the feeling you get after realizing you ordered the wrong meal after the waiter has walked away. My inability to figure out how to navigate using a map was something that had always been on the very fringes of my consciousness, but now it was here in front of me, fully defined.
“Yes,” I thought, “This is me. This is who I am. I know myself.”
I reflected later that no matter which direction I had chosen at the beginning, it would have been the wrong one. This is a curse that is a part of me, and I had come to terms with it. After all, I know myself. And maybe I wasn’t a great tracker, but there were many other things that I was good at. I was back in Korea, after all, and this was a place that I could exist in with confidence. I wasn’t going to let such an inconvenience stop me from fulfilling my mission.
I checked my watched. I had been walking in the wrong direction for over twenty minutes. This meant that it would take me another twenty minutes to retrace my steps to my apartment – a total of forty minutes out of the ninety in which I had to get supplies. I didn’t want to do any further maths because I really had to pee, and also deep down I knew I didn’t have enough time to get my shopping done. I began jogging back the way I had come, hoping to make up for the time I had lost. Eventually I drew level with my apartment again, and kept going. Only two blocks later, I looked to my right and saw the bright red Home Plus sign illuminated up the road. It was ridiculously close to where I lived, yet I had somehow wasted almost an entire hour getting to it.
Buy the time I got inside the shopping mall, I had just over half an hour before I had to get back into my apartment. I decided then that I was just going to have to be late. Besides, I didn’t think anyone would really be keeping track of my activities. As far as I understood it, the quarantine app didn’t have any GPS capabilities. Nevertheless, I still shopped quickly. I had compiled a shopping list the day before, so I knew what to focus on. I grabbed fruit and bread and vegetables. I bought pasta and bottled water and a frying pan. I bought sugar, and salt and some eggs. I was confident. I knew this kind of store. Even though I couldn’t understand all the labels, I knew exactly which items to reach for. I knew not to get toilet paper here, because they were only sold in packs of 32. I would pick up a smaller pack from a convenience store on the way home. With each item I pulled off of a shelf, I was careful to look about for the presence of a sign saying “1+1.” As you can imagine, this is an indication that the product is running a buy-one-get-one-free special. While this can be a blessing, it is often times a curse. When the cashier rings up one product from such a special, they will say to you “One plus one.” When this happens, it means that you will have to make a mad dash to the other end of the large store to retrieve your free “+1” item. You cannot say that you want just the one product. For the sake of balancing their books, you always need to retrieve the “plus one.” This was the last thing I wanted, because I didn’t have a car, and my hands would be full enough as it was on the walk home. I had only my backpack, and I knew I’d be able to buy reusable shopping bags at the cash register, and that would be enough. I was in my element. I was confident. I knew myself.
By the time I left Home Plus, night had fully fallen, and my ninety minutes was up. But I didn’t fret. I was comfortable in my own skin, and in this environment. I knew no one would care, and I wasn’t looking over my shoulder. I was too busy enjoying the night, and the freedom, and the little flecks of snow that drifted out of the night like ash. Nearer to my building, I stopped into a convenience store to buy toilet paper. I knew this type of convenience store well. I knew the tinkle of bells that sounded when I walked through the door, and I knew every product that was stored on it’s shelves. The toilet rolls were being sold in packs of sixteen, and would be difficult to carry along with my other shopping, but the cashier did not bat an eye, because he knew that I was the lord of my domain, and that I would somehow manage. He scanned my large tissue cube and regarded the screen of his cash register. Then he looked at me sadly, taking in the large load I was already carrying.
I know myself, and I have come to accept that I will always make the same mistakes, so it did not shake me when the cashier delivered his inevitable news:
“One plus one,” he said.
The Hangul Games 