Tramps like us, baby we were born to run

I’m hanging out in my hotel room in Gwangju. Korea is called “Land of the morning calm.” Listening to the birds chirping, I think that’s a fitting title. My roommate Asia is telling me how she can’t live without A Muppets’ Christmas Carol. I think I’m going to get along with her, because I feel the same way about A Charlie Brown Christmas. I was cold last night, so she let me borrow her care bears blanket. My boyfriend calls me care bear, so her blanket made me a little sad, but at least I was warm.

I feel good about packing lightly. Everyone else seems to have packed 2-5 huge suitcases. On the plane, I listened to the first few chapters of Into the Wild on my iPod and one of Christopher McCandless' downfalls was packing too lightly. Good thing I’m in the Land of Morning Calm and not in the Alaskan bush.

Thursday morning, when my boyfriend and I were getting ready to go to the airport, I was singing, I’m on fire, by Bruce Springsteen. In the car, I told myself, “If the next song on the radio is a Bruce Springsteen song, we’ll stay together.” The DJ came on after The Dave Mathews Band and said, “Let’s hear some Springsteen.” He played, The Streets of Philadelphia. I haven’t been able to get over that amazing coincidence. I guess in a year’s time, I’ll see if my prediction was correct.

My roommate’s watching Sex and the City, and we’re about to go down to breakfast. Our room has a balcony with a beautiful view of downtown Gwangju on one side and trees on the other. I was trying to encourage my roommate to come out on the balcony, but she reminded me she’s from Hawaii, and does not want to stand around in the morning cold.

Everything has gone smoothly so far, except I almost went crazy last night trying to open the lock on my suitcase. I ended up having to break the damn thing off, which took a lot of force, and made me feel like Superman.